Taylor Swift Wades in Woeful Waves in “The Tortured Poets Department”— A Sonic Analysis (Album Review)
The double album, including The Anthology, are the vulnerable sounds of reverberant echoed thunders left from Swift’s ruinous lightning storm.
When you think of the colors ‘Phantom Clear’, ‘Ghostly White’, ‘Ink Black’, ‘Smoke’, and ‘Beige’, what kind of scene do you picture? A pasty woman dressed in white, shaking from the freezing rain and huddled outside someone’s doorstep? How about an old-timey bar that smells of cigarettes and whiskey? Or a lonely wanderer who is left looking down at their feet after the last train dashes away?
The Tortured Poets Department takes these monotonous shades of abandonment, grief, and lust to slyly produce the some of the most potent colors of Swift’s whole discography.
Standard Vs. Anthology
The 2am announcement and drop of the second installment stated as a double album — The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology threw notions of this project off its axis.
While it’s easy to arbitrarily equate this to Swift’s previous original studio album release with the deluxe-equivalent Midnights (3am Edition) with 7 additional tracks — both installments of TTPD are very distinctly their own album. The standard album contains a groovier tempo and sound for a devil-may-care narrator wearing maroon-tinted glasses; we meet her directly at post-break up derangement that over the course of these tracks, dilutes from her veins back to sobering sanity, closing the rotting end of a chapter. Meanwhile, The Anthology begins in a solemn empty house so quiet and concave, where ghosts of a bereft voice, piano keys, and guitar strings scavenge through black dust from the absolute bottom to turn into chronicled tales that ever so tenderly breathe the narrator back to life. What melds these two albums together is, of course, Swift’s narrative voice setting the trembling grounds of this dreadful transitional life chapter.
(For simplicity’s sake, I will talk about the songs both albums combined, but they assuredly hold up as their own body of work. Rather than two sides of the same coin, they are two variants of the same coin — both uniquely stained with their own tones of rust.)
Sonic Production
While Swift’s prime appeal is her songwriting, her tendency to adapt each album to its own soundscape or — most famously — even entirely new genres is a key part of her musical intrigue.
2020’s folklore was not only a breakthrough revelation for listeners, but especially, and more importantly, for Swift’s creativity. Jack Antonoff being her trusted musical partner-in-crime since 2013 — their combination known for its classic pop hooks and bombastic, atmospheric synth playground, meeting the acoustic indie excellence of The National’s Aaron Dessner produced a type of magic that clicked so fluidly; it’s no wonder the trio haven’t been separated since.
TTPD has them in action again, with the main standard album and the second installment noticeably split in a way that highlights the stylistic differences between her two collaborators: pop producer Antonoff takes the majority of the tracks on the main album while the indie-leaning Dessner floods through The Anthology tracks.
Antonoff vs. Dessner?
The way the sonic landscape plays out has led to lots of comparisons to Midnights and folklore/evermore in terms of the standard Midnights album being Antonoff-heavy and the indie-inspired sister albums dubbed as Dessner’s undertakings. After a first listen of the album, it’s not difficult to see where people are coming from. Although in terms of the counterfeit Midnights accusations — it does not hold much merit past the first four tracks (and maybe the sonic callback track “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” as well to fully play the devil’s advocate).
Antonoff and The Works
In terms of Antonoff’s output in his collaborations with Swift, longtime listeners can detect his signature catalog of 80s-inspired arpeggiated synth pads, hard hitting reverb drums, and electronic glimmers. The opening quartet of “Fortnight” (feat. Post Malone), “The Tortured Poets Department,” “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys,” and “Down Bad” do receive the Antonoff-special — but for the most part here, the nostalgic sound works in the favor of being ‘frozen in time.’
For the first two tracks “Fortnight” and “The Tortured Poets Department,” I find the production to be especially complementary to the written song.
The minimalist steady, unwavering thump of the arpeggiated pad of the opening lead single “Fortnight” is sublimely aligned with the emotional numb pain of the narrator — the looping beat almost puts you in a slight daze, like a pulsating migraine you have no choice but to submit to.
I personally find that the melody sung with that monotone cadence adds a lot of quiet intrigue into this track, as it really creeps up on you with its subtle catchiness you suddenly find pacing around in your head. Nothing about this track screams like a typical lead single that has a sense of big energy or even big philosophical things to say — but for me, that seemingly desensitized state with so many dark feelings hidden underneath the surface, ever so slightly seeping out through darkened lips just hooks me in.
The lightly upbeat title track “The Tortured Poets Department” uses the 80s nostalgia to its highest advantage by using the vibrant synth pads to gloss over the whole scene in a romanticized rose tint. The narrator while in this passionate, impish fling with a troubled, deviant partner is pretty self-aware of how toxic the situation is, but in this song she chooses to maniacally lean into it. In a tale of two phony ‘tortured poets’, the scene played out through the lyrics of a pair of immature rebellious outsiders lazily strewn in bed, smoking together, and talking half-true nonsense is practically straight from an 80s teen coming-of-age movie with a song like itself playing over it.
I found “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” and “Down Bad” to ring as the most overfamiliar production of the whole album. In the former track, the buzzy pad and smacking drum pattern fit right in line with Swift’s 1989 and “Anti-Hero.” While maybe not the most ingenious production, the songwriting paired with the catchy melody, ‘oh, oh’ ad-libs, and bashed drums still makes for a satisfactory song.
However, I find that “Down Bad” suffers more, as the somewhat plain instrumental with its trembling background synth, spouts of robotic vocal decorations, dull rhythm section, and attempt at interest with the signal-like synths in the background to compliment the ‘alien abduction’ abandonment metaphor feels like a trite pulled collection of elements that at this point, feel a bit worn-down. The continuous talk-sung melody and perhaps the weakest lyrics of the album don’t do much to help it’s case either.
“I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” is a unique one in the sense that it is undeniably Midnights-printed, but considering the fact that it’s a clear as day reference to Swift’s worldwide tour — The Eras Tour, it’s wonderfully welcomed as the depressed wolf in “Bejeweled” clothing. I find that Antonoff’s strongest, underrated weapon as a producer is the way he can build such a solid world completely through sonic means. When listening to all the muffled commotion, the ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ count that mimics in-ear audio during live performances, camera flashes, and the sparkly music itself, you are instantly transported to that renowned stage with Taylor Swift herself — only this time, inside her head. From the evocative chills born that very first listen, you really can’t help but give your hats off to his work on this track that is so cleverly executed, of course along with Swift’s writing that feels like a voice-overed fourth wall break.
With that being said, it would be a real shame to hear the sultry guitar lines of “Fresh Out The Slammer,” “Guilty as Sin?,” or “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” with its Wild West angle, or the invigorating sucker punch production on “Florida!!!” (feat. Florence + The Machine) and put a strike through it to call it the same old synth get-together.
“Fresh Out The Slammer” and “Guilty as Sin?” both utilize an intoxicating soundscape to reflect the fervid lustful pining. The darkly blissful tone of the droned ultra-fine guitar lines and guiding percussion are equally seductive and forlorn. That easy intonation yet addictive melody of the two songs just makes it more engaging. I do want to highlight in particular, the way she floatily elongates her voice up in the chorus of “Fresh Out The Slammer” with the contrast of the mid and low tones in the verses is heavenly. My only gripe of that track would be how from the last chorus, it bluntly cuts to paddling drums at a slower pace with an run-on melody extending through the bridge and simmering out to the end with a plain synth pad; no matter how many times I listen to it, it just awkwardly kills the momentum.
Off the back of that infatuation, “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” is faultlessly sexy as Swift uses her tantalizing lower register to, unsuccessfully, seduce this troublesome man to bend at her will, to become a greater man than he is. The Old West tone of the guitar is the seamless backdrop for the vivid storytelling.
“Florida!!!” (feat. Florence + The Machine) remains unmatched in the album in its intensity. It’s no EDM or hard rock banger — but the chorus with the seven successive bashes over the head with the quick scream-like vox and the rippled out tremolo guitar to soothe, plus the beautifully overwhelming overlap of Swift and Welch’s vocals starting from the bridge on is otherwordly phenomenal.
Meanwhile, we also hear Antonoff playing off his recognizable bombastic productions and applying it to otherwise minimalist instrumentals to grand dynamic effect — namely “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” and “The Black Dog,” while “The Alchemy” and “imgonnagetyouback” takes a chill backseat approach with their still atmospheric soundscapes.
The eerie but formidable “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” gets its power from Swift’s seething grit in her voice with every word, impending drums, and most strikingly — the reverberated threatening scream of the title. It comes across so vicious against the empty backdrop with the menacing background ‘ooh’s and cryptic trickling keys encompassed by the harrowing cinematic pads. The bridge build up, fake-out drop, then build up again for the outro ties it all together so excellently and addictingly. “The Black Dog” is a wistful take on that approach to production, with somber wavering piano chords and dawdling guitar line that with the soft percussion gathers up in persistence as the song moves along. Despite that steady build up, the thundering blows that accompany the cried out key line — “Old habits die screaming” — still cannot be overtaken.
“The Alchemy” and “imgonnagetyouback” are mid-tempo tracks that stay in that mild wavy synth space. As the second to last track of the main album, the theme of reaching sweet championship in love is mirrored with this bare lighthearted encompassing ambience; it does so, but… that’s all it does. I feel similarly benign about the airy alluring The Anthology track “imgonnagetyouback” that at least has good drums and a slightly catchy post-chorus to it.
Dessner and The Works
Regarding Dessner’s contributing production, his style is undeniable the moment you hear his print of prominent crestfallen pittering piano lines and skittering picked acoustic guitar patterns.
The piano ballads “loml,” “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” “Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus,” and “How Did It End?” take the simplicity of sowerful pattering piano and emotional mists of strings to unearth the deepest dormant wounds of grief.
“loml” has a solid weight to it; the heaviness of her heart is matched by the grounding bass piano chords, as if the hands playing the piano are equally as weighty as the keys. The gentle staccato piano line is the ideal setting for the poignant emotive vocal delivery with the ghostly reverb, of course along with the excellently crafted lyrics, to be the focal point of the track.
While “Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus” also carries a sense of sorrow, this time it’s derived from a place of pining over what never got the chance to live. The uncertainty of a connection that floats in between the margins of their lives is reflected in the flighty nature of the composition. The air of wistful pondering is felt by the portamento piano line that trickles up and down, with the guitar strings lightly laced along to create a softly moving instrumental.
“The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” is a scathing track that starts out self-remorseful under a tip-toeing piano line that’s walking on eggshells, but the reflection quickly turns into bewildered anger aimed at the wrongdoer ex, significantly building up with a steady pace with the help of a flickering synth line and continuous soft kick drums. The highlight of the song — also a highlight of the whole album — is the bridge of red hot wrath from the slammed piano, pounded drums, dramatized strings, and the most breathtaking vocals of undistilled fury for a brutal beatdown.
Out of all the melancholic ballads, “How Did It End?” has the most mournful finality to it. Now after having processed through the ending itself, the narrator has to leave their tear stained pillows behind to appear at the wake. The gorgeous but weeping piano sets a backdrop of a rainy burial day, where tears and raindrops over a grave become indistinguishable. The vocal melody and piano line dance so beautifully together, and the most memorable haunting ad-lib of the album used as such a vital hook is the wrinkled cherry on top.
The pensive staccato piano of “Cassandra” and “Peter” lays the ground for Swift’s more fictionalized reality style of storytelling through allusions to classic stories; the songwriting and instrumental combo here are the most folklore/evermore reminiscent moments of the whole project. While “Cassandra” is dignified in its standing of faintly almost medieval-evocative piano and strings, “Peter” takes its waltz piano to keep us lost at sea, relentlessly coddled back and forth by the waves.
The guitar picked trio of “The Albatross,” “I Hate It Here,” and “The Prophecy” all intriguingly use it to allude to other olden or magical realms. “The Bolter” is another acoustic guitar track, but the bubbliest of the entire work with its lighthearted strumming and delightful melody.
“Clara Bow,” “Robin,” and “The Manuscript” as the final closing tracks somehow strips it back to the most bare of them all. The tame but chilling standard album closer “Clara Bow” lets the age-old tale of womens’ experience in the entertainment industry speak for itself over a central straightforward picked electric bass strings and some rays of classical strings for effect. The teetering piano keys of “Robin” and “The Manuscript” have ever so slight remnants of high strings and compressed bass drums with no-frill melodies to match.
“The who’s who of “Who’s that?”
As someone who is also not entirely immune to assumptions — I found “I Look in People’s Windows” produced by Antonoff (and Patrik Berger) and the pair of “So High School” and “So Long, London” produced by Dessner to be a handful of tracks on this album that completely tricked me until I looked at the credits. The main stippled guitar of “I Look in People’s Windows,” the shoegaze-inspired “So High School,” and ambient synthy “So Long, London” is right up the others’ alley.
“I Look in People’s Windows” is only an interlude-length track, but it shines in its simplistic picked acoustics and melodies. While I selfishly wish it was longer for the sake of how much I enjoy it, the short length does work in tandem with the narrator feeling like their time with this person was cut unsatisfyingly short.
“So High School” is a hazy 2000s teen rom-com soft rock love song, a sentimental ode to a love that makes you feel like a pair of giddy teenagers. Her singing cadence with lots of lovey dovey sweetness injected into every melody really brings out the sweetness of the guitar’s tone. The fact that each melody of every section is equally as catchy only adds to the infectious affection.
The coveted track 5 — known as the spot where Swift puts the most vulnerable/personal track of the album — “So Long, London” is full of quietly anxious tension. The echoey opening acapella of the syllables ‘so-long-lon-don’ with imaging in the left and right stereo channels feel like bell buoys ringing along in a wide blackened sea in the dead of night, drifting further away from the lighthouse coast. The accelerated hasty staccato rhythmic synth and solid compressed kick drum thumps equal plain anxiety. The whirly signal-like synth line that occasionally slips in feels like a heart rate monitor gone rogue. While the vocals reflect that tender state of just reaching acceptance that the relationship is helpless, the layered vocals underneath that are so aggressively desperate with the run-on melody, as if trying to breathe in the last breaths of air of this relationship as she can, is so devastating. The way the instrumental never really builds up to a big climatic production and the song closes out with her back in that gentler tone really drives the point of no reviving the corpse, no returning to this coast ever again as the waters finally whisk her away for good.
“But Daddy I Love Him” and “thanK you aIMee” are the two tracks that each feature production from both Antonoff and Dessner. To be honest, “thanK you aIMee” with its lightly spirited guitar is a bland skip for me. On the other hand, “But Daddy I Love Him” is quite the sonic oddball of the entire project — the country-esque guitar picked line is the main thread sewing together the arpeggiated background synth and dry drums. It nails the feeling of the narrator deciding to break free from judgement; you can practically feel yourself cutting through the wind, striding freely through the streets of a European small town, with the drums as your feet slapping on concrete. In the context of the storytelling of the album, it’s definitely fitting and is standalone an amusing song — but the sudden soundscape that feels like it could easily be a Fearless (Taylor’s Version) vault track, especially in between the tracks of 80s synths and sensual guitar lines; it does not sonically gel well with the rest of the album.
Now the question is… which style is actually the most supplemental to her songwriting?
THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is not a vivid pop album OR a distinguished repertoire of ballads — but what is undeniable here is the impending woe that oscillates in waves in her chest; some of it is simply masked by shiny synths or sultry guitars and other times are exposed like raw broken capillaries by a resonant piano. No matter the genre or composition, there is agony through every tone, breath, and space in between — your only duty is to perceive it.
Album rating: 4/5
