I worked hard on my year-end albums list for WMOT, part of which was a brief debate with myself over whether to include Taylor Swift’s lovely folkore in our “Americana” roundup. I saw at least one publication that categorized it as such, and while it’s not crazy, I think that misunderstands the boundaries of Americana and the intent of the album. While the 16-song set isn’t folk music, it does satisfy the folk fan’s craving for intimacy and storytelling, while the instrumentation and mix is a treat for those of us who value creative sonic architecture. What I hear is as an ambient pop album with more roots on its beautiful woods-in-mist cover than in the grooves. But I do love folklore, and I turned to it often for its tranquil buzz and shapely stories.
It certainly reminds me of Kacey Musgraves’ Golden Hour of a couple years ago (which did squeak into my Americana list of 2018). They came from artists reaching for a new tone and esthetic. And they were collaborations perfect for the artist and her moment. On Golden Hour, the producers were Ian Fitchuk and Daniel Tashian, musicians with advanced harmonic ideas and collaborative empathy. Swift’s partners on folklore are Aaron and Bryce Dessner, the remarkable twin brothers who’ve loomed large in the worlds of indie rock and soundtrack production since blowing up as The National in the 2000s. Aaron is the key songwriting partner and producer here, with Bryce in a behind-the-scenes role as orchestrator. (Rolling Stone reported that he hired “a mix of musicians scattered around the globe (none of whom even knew what they were playing on when they recorded their parts).” I’m particularly a Bryce-head, because of his work as a composer. He’s hugely in demand in contemporary music, with abundant commissions and collaborations with the masters. I adore his interpretations of American folk songs on the album Filament with the eighth blackbird ensemble and his Music For Wood And Strings with So Percussion. You can hear Bryce’s skilled mingling of timbre and rhythm in folklore, and it’s just an ideal bed of sound for Swift’s voice, which has grown decidedly richer and more assured with the years.
Songs? There’s not one I feel like skipping, and they unfold with organic ease. Opener “the 1” greets us with a subtle rhythmic trick and the line “I’m doin’ good,” as if to reach out postcard-style amid the pandemic with a note of reassurance. Track two “Cardigan” is appropriately cozy. But the project really got my attention with “the last great american dynasty,” with its account of Rebekah West Harkness, a fiercely independent patron of the arts from the 60s whose beachfront mansion in Rhode Island Swift purchased in 2013. It’s a sophisticated way of expressing what it’s like being a unique and powerful woman in the public eye. I put “this is me trying” on my 2020 playlist because it just struck me as such a gorgeous relationship song set to subtle electronics. I also love “mirrorball” and “mad woman.” I read that "betty” got a bit of purchase at country radio, and it’s easily the rootsiest song here with recognizable acoustic guitar and harmonica. But it’s the exception that proves the rule. Swift leans largely on the hip-hop derived, sing-song lyrical cadences that define records as pop to 21st century ears, including pop country, which has spent 20 years mimicking modern R&B, usually badly. But when pop is great it’s great, and this will be an iconic release of 2020 from an artist growing ever-more fascinating.
After the July surprise drop of folklore I suppose we shouldn’t have been startled by last week’s unannounced release of its follow-up evermore. I haven’t jumped to take that record in fully yet, the strains of folklore being too fixed in my mind to absorb more, similarly situated sounds from the artist. But there is a fun wrinkle on that front in that I got a text out of the blue the other night from my sister urging me to listen to track 13 of evermore while I, at that moment, had track 4 in my headphones on my first pass. Her coincidental heads-up was about the song “marjorie,” a gorgeous tribute to Swift’s grandmother, who was apparently an opera singer and an inspiration in Taylor’s musical journey. My sister is named Marjorie, and she’s named after her grandmother, so how sweet is that?
Both Taylor Swift releases this year were star-moves, which is to say unannounced and designed to maximize the moment, and that’s awesome too. I love that this woman, this young woman (she’s just 31!), has the platform and authority to surprise us with a message like: “YO, I have lovely trees and great songs with dope tracks and you should listen to them now!” I was happy about how happy I was to eagerly RSVP to her invitation, because Swift has given us nothing but decency, talent and honesty over these years. and she’s growing, which is the most important thing. Stars, whether actual fireballs in space or the radiant super-performers who dominate our cultural firmament, emit absurd amounts of energy in all directions. For those reared on and fascinated by music’s intricacies and subtleties like myself, stars often feel too overwhelming to be the thing I want to write and opine about. Literally everyone else is taking care of that. Neither Taylor Swift, nor the world, is waiting on a review from me. But moments like this, when a megawatt recording artist turns down the dimmer and lets herself be seen and heard as smaller than life, are always rewarding and worth a nod of appreciation.