Taylor Swift, The Tortured Poets Department

(Note: This is a review of the 16 tracks first released on the album. Swift later released another 15 tracks in a collection called The Anthology)

At this stage, a Taylor Swift album release is a capital-E Event. She’s the busiest woman in the world, with her record-breaking Eras Tour selling out stadiums around the globe – so it was a surprise when, in her Grammys acceptance speech in February, Swift announced that her 11th album would be released in April.

The anticipation has been strong, particularly given it is her first record since her split with Joe Alwyn, her actor partner of six-and-a-half years, this time last year. Was this going to be the big break-up album?

Swift’s personal life is now inextricable from her music, and often dominates discussion of it. For 2020’s folklore and evermore, she moved away from the diaristic style of writing, but it’s back for The Tortured Poets Department – and the focus will likely be on the revelations within, far more than the music itself.

So let’s talk about the music. Swift’s two go-to co-writers are producers Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner, each with their own distinctive sound. The Antonoff tracks here are by-the-numbers – his synth-pop is so immediately recognisable that it’s wearing on predictable.

Dessner, who’s also a member of indie rock band The National and came on board Team Swift for her pandemic albums, has a softer, often piano-led palette that brings out more emotional nuance. So Long, London is a highlight, beginning with a textured choral collage and blooming into Dessner’s take on synth-pop.

Artist features are becoming more common on Swift albums. Opening track Fortnight relegates Post Malone almost to the background – the same treatment Lana Del Rey was given on Midnights′ Snow on the Beach, which is funny because the track sounds like a pretty good approximation of Del Rey’s music. Florida!!! gives British artist Florence Welch space to shine; it’s cinematic and sweeping, and the two singers’ voices provide gorgeous foils to one another before blending for the chorus. Swift’s voice is in fine form at points across the record, such as on the soaring chorus of Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?.

Sonically, this album is cohesive but not groundbreaking – we’ve heard much of this from Swift before. It slots neatly somewhere between 1989 and Midnights, with more than a bit of similarity with another Antonoff-produced band, The 1975, the singer of which, Matty Healy, much of this record seems to be about after a short-lived but highly publicised fling last year.