Taylor Swift is everywhere. She fills stadiums bigger than some cities, commands entire news cycles with a lifestyle change, and sells out vinyl variants faster than small nations move currency. Her music dominates the charts, her image dominates the internet, and her name has become shorthand for modern fame itself.

Swift released her twelfth studio album on Oct. 3, “The Life of a Showgirl,” and as a supporter of hers, I have never been more disappointed. I hate it. It is more akin to the demise of the 1920s aesthetic, a funeral for what she once represented.

Many expected an era rich in jazz-inflected storytelling or cinematic melancholy, a mature return to the romantic imagination that once made Swift’s music magnetic. But no, the melodies are mechanical, almost a copy-and-paste from her previous work; the lyrics are self-indulgent, and the storytelling, once her sharpest weapon, now reads like self-parody.

The album seems more of a love letter to her MAGA-adjacent fiancé, Travis Kelce, than to her fans. She speaks of her incredibly troubling life as a billionaire who does not have to worry about any financial concerns, a huge juxtaposition to her fans, who likely struggle with putting food on their table every week.

For this album’s promotion, she, or someone in her vast marketing team, decided to utilize AI instead of using that billionaire wealth to hire someone to do the artwork and video production for her. Regardless of AI’s negative social and environmental implications, it is taking jobs away from artists in an already complex world, making it difficult for artists to survive. 

There’s an irony here: Swift has always prided herself on emotional authenticity, but AI thrives on mimicry. It can simulate style, tone, and rhythm, but not human authenticity and sincerity.

As someone who had already been criticized for taking attention away from other female artists by unnecessarily re-releasing her songs so that she stays on top of the charts, you would think she would be wary of insulting other female artists in this album.

But no, she publicly calls Charli XCX a cokehead in the song “Actually Romantic.” A great way to rebuild bridges there and make people think you’re a true feminist! She’s spent years crafting a public persona as a feminist ally and advocate for creative rights; for someone who’s been publicly wronged and slut-shamed, it’s jarring to see her replicate that cruelty toward another woman in the industry.

Part of Taylor Swift’s early appeal was her uncanny ability to translate ordinary heartbreak into a universal experience. She wrote with the vocabulary of lived experience, not the language of branding. “Fifteen,” “Dear John,” and “All Too Well” weren’t songs, but private wounds, and diary entries set to melody. Fans listened, related, and confided, 

That connection has frayed. The Swift of “The Life of a Showgirl” no longer writes from the margins. She writes from inside the machine, a billionaire who found true love, trying to sound like she still bleeds. Her lyrics now orbit the logistics of her own fame: fame about fame, heartbreak about the difficulty of maintaining an image. There’s no longer a person at the center, only a reflection.

This distance isn’t unique to Swift. Many megastars eventually reach a point where their wealth and influence render them unrelatable. But what makes Swift’s descent so pronounced is that her entire mythology is built on the illusion of intimacy. When she loses that, she loses everything that made her special. Her barefoot, guitar-playing intimacy is gone, and we’re left with a shell of what once was. 

And the super-fans who can’t acknowledge this is a bad album have been bothering me beyond belief. If you genuinely like it, fine, but the comments I’ve been seeing have claimed Swift as a god who can do no wrong, and idealizing anyone in that manner is unhealthy. Additionally, if we don’t call out artists when their work is subpar, especially an artist at her level of fame, it will never improve. 

Taylor, we don’t need constant releases to make us happy. We need good quality music, and breaking records means nothing if you and your fans are not proud of what you produce.