Taylor Swift’s ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ Is All Show And Little Substance – Review

Taylor Swift has established a career that many of her peers in the industry would dream of. 

Over the course of less than two decades, the pop superstar has released eleven studio albums that have influenced the global music scene in some way or form. With each of these records, Swift has showcased her artistry, unleashed her most candid, if confessional thoughts, and taken listeners on shared emotional journeys that can resonate deeply with millions over time.

So when the 35-year-old musician first announced The Life of a Showgirl, I, like millions of other Swifties in the world, found myself tuned in and eagerly awaiting to see what would come out of her twelfth full-length effort. I may not have been too keen on The Tortured Poets Department, though Midnights, Evermore, and Folklore served as an impressive run of releases that had me attuned to whatever pop wizardry was to come of this project. 

Yet despite this album being Swift’s highly anticipated reunion with legendary pop producers like Max Martin and Shellback, carrying glamorous visuals all throughout its 10+ album covers, and having a high-end, almost cinematic concept, the music doesn’t live up to the imagery and buildup. Because if anything, The Life of a Showgirl is dull and a far cry from the pop masterpieces that she’s become loved for.

Swift herself was excited upon deeming this record as “all about infectious pop melodies without losing the quality storytelling of folklore“, but the final output surely feels like a stark departure from that. None of the twelve tracks on this record feels like it has anything major to say, even when paying homage to Hamlet’s Ophelia or the legendary actress Elizabeth Taylor on the album’s two tracks — as they do little to add any sort of value to whatever tortured or doomed love story Swift is trying to tell, rather being a mere reference point that winks at the audience as evidence of her pop culture knowledge.

Many of the love songs on this album feel significantly less passionate than her previous anthems, showcasing just how mundane the storytelling throughout is. Arguably, the only excitable parts wherein Swift seems to be most passionate are on the record’s surprising amount of diss records, wherein she appears to be targeting some of her peers (and former proteges) with the pointed lyricism of “Father Figure” and “Actually Romantic.”

Such efforts would surely be a lot more interesting if Swift’s jabs didn’t come off as forced and lacking authenticity, considering how it makes the songwriting feel contrived and overly sensational. It doesn’t carry the same edge as earlier hits like “Mean” and “Look At What You Made Me Do,” and instead borders on juvenile, occasionally slipping into unintended self-parody (see “CANCELLED!”). Many of the record’s lowest points could even make you question if there was any sort of substance meant to be conveyed in each of Swift’s musings, which now feel more like ramblings.

On the sonic front, The Life of a Showgirl fares a lot better than its lyrical counterpart — but none of these songs nearly fall under the “infectious pop melodies” she had promised earlier. If Max Martin and Shellback’s involvement wasn’t reiterated again and again with every piece of the record’s promotional material, you wouldn’t even think that they had anything to do with the resulting sound in any of the record’s twelve tracks. 

Gone is the immaculate, radio-friendly production, as well as the signature, memorable hooks that made Red, 1989, and Reputation such timeless bodies of work, as they’re traded off with surprisingly stripped back, almost groovy soundscapes that are a mismatch with Swift’s intended showgirl aesthetic. It’s uncharacteristic of what Max Martin and Shellback have become known for, yet that isn’t to say that all of it is too bad, for tracks like “Opalite,” “Wood,” and “CANCELLED!” still retain glimpses of that glitz and glamour. 

Still, one would wonder where Swift’s impressive pen and artistic vision had gone (or disappeared off to) following what The Life of a Showgirl finds itself as. The record’s title track is supposed to close the album with a supposed bang, but it falters and loses its way until Sabrina Carpenter’s guest feature ends up saving the day — begging you to question if it mirrors what exactly Swift is going through with her creative persona.

It feels as if she’s clinging to the same elements and formulas that made several of her records such impressive and cohesive bodies of work, but the ambition and willingness to challenge her artistic capabilities have only weakened in the face of constant success. Only bits of it feel authentic, provocative, or even intellectually stimulating, as what audiences are left to deal with at face value is a rare misstep from all the greatness that surrounds her discography.

While The Tortured Poets Department was long-winded, at least it felt like it had something substantial to say, as it captured the pop icon at a vulnerable and overwhelmingly cathartic state of her life. The Life of a Showgirl sure is tighter and glossier on the surface, even if it’s all for show. For here, it’s evident that Swift feels uninspired, plays it too safe, and absolutely misses the mark. 

Here’s to hoping Swift is able to one-up herself on the next record, for she is certainly capable of doing that.

Listen to Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl below: