Within the Taylor Swift fandom, there has always been this hankering for a true rock album from the superstar. And — before I even give that argument credibility — I’m just going to shut it all down: Taylor Swift has always had a true rock album — it just needed some updates and upgrades to truly show it off.
Her rock moment always seemed to be “Speak Now,” her 2010 classic. Now it’s really — without a doubt — “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version).”
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And my god. I have been waiting for this crystal clear, unabashed sound since 2010.
Why, though? Why? Why do we — Swifties — all feel such a need for this girl to sing rock songs, belting each note, carrying and conveying the weight of all her feelings, all set to uproarious drums and soaring guitars? Why have we been waiting for her to give her own rock songs the life they always deserved?
Maybe it’s because rock is — and I think really always has been — for the girls. It’s the messiest, liveliest, most dramatic, most intense genre on the planet. And, since girls are always accused of being over-the-top and melodramatic, anyway — isn’t it ours? And ours to reclaim? And ours to create?
Because this kid — Taylor Swift, 33 years young and still growin' up now — was born to make rock music. Soft rock, goth rock. Emo rock, arena rock. Heartland rock, punk rock. Country rock, indie rock. Her writing — her anger, her sadness, her devastation, her love, her passion — was meant for this genre.
And she just…shines. This is when she truly glows.
“I Can See You” — a tune from Taylor’s vault, meaning she didn’t put it on the album the first time around — has a guitar hook reminiscent of The Clash’s “London Calling,” clearly demonstrating Taylor’s rock knowledge (and her edge).
“Sparks Fly,” “The Story of Us,” “Better Than Revenge” and “Long Live” — with their modern productions — remain precise instrumentally, but with more of a stouthearted, ardent, livelier feel, truly allowing the drums and guitars to shine, as they always should have. And “Haunted” — the goth-rock fan favorite — feels galvanic and more urgent than ever, with the gush of strings and Taylor’s sturdier voice taking an emo song for the ages to new heights.
But hold on.
HOLD. On.
“Electric Touch,” anyone?
Electric. Touch.
An amalgamation of all feelings. A feature from the emo kids of Fall Out Boy. A rollicking — but polished — anthem to scream in the car, to make you run as fast as you possibly can, to make you feel and acknowledge devastating pain, but to also make you feel and acknowledge the profound power of hope — the profound possibility of things working out.
“Just breathe/ Just relax/ It’ll be okay,” she starts. “Just an hour till your car’s in the driveway/ Just the first time ever hanging out with you/ Tonight.”
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Full of that push-and-pull type of turmoil — that inner battle — that’s just so ideal for rock: “I’ve got my money on things going badly/ Got a history of stories ending sadly/ Still hoping that the fire won’t burn me/ Just one time.” Fire and electricity, motifs frequently used in rock, used to both tear people down and light them back up.
“Electric Touch” — it’s the complexity of girlhood, this one — in four minutes, 26 seconds.
“Got a feeling your electric touch/ Could fill this ghost town up with life” — that line almost feels like a reference to “Dear John,” the exquisite fifth track, except she’s hoping that she’s not the only one shining like fireworks over this sad empty town anymore, praying that someone else can help light it all up again.
That’s the thing about Taylor, and almost every girl: we do go down when things get bad. But we always look for ways to pull ourselves back up.
“Speak Now” is the album I’ve loved — and will always love — more than any other. But this — Taylor’s Version — this is “Speak Now” in a mature form I knew it could take, but never thought it would. This version is the album I daydreamed about, the sound I dreamt of my childhood hero fully tapping into, always wondering if I’d have to let that dream die and fade and move on and wait for a new dream to come along.
I...I just never thought I’d get to hear “Speak Now” at its full rock potential. But now that I have, there’s no going back, folks. Because — Jesus. If girldom and young womanhood isn’t one giant rock album, I don’t know what it is. Rock is a sound she takes on so effortlessly because screaming about your feelings is — simply put — effortless.
“And JUST one time/ Maybe the MOMENT’S righttttt/ It’s 8:05, AND I SEE TWO/ HEAAAAAADDDDDLIGGHHHHHTTTTTTTSSSSSSSS.” (Yeah, that’s how you really write lyrics.)
And now I’m dancing around my room, feeling every feeling I’ve ever felt, and it’s not 2010 again, but it’s 2023, and it’s still — like it always has been — okay to dance around my room to Taylor Swift, the ultimate pop star. It’s 2023, and in 2023, I still get angry and sad and mad and anxious and nervous and enraged and excited and euphoric, and I still sing on my knees in front of my full-length mirror in my eclectic, vibrant bedroom with an imaginary microphone in my hand with the biggest, biggest, BIGGEST smile on my face.
“Electric Touch” is more than electric — it’s a pop-rock pièce de résistance, and, yes, it is for the girls. Because rock — even though it has often been dominated by men — was MADE for the girls.
This song IS sprinting down a hallway in slow-mo, à la Will Schuester running down the school hallways to find Emma Pillsbury in “Glee”— for an annoying, problematic couple, they sure did get one of the best montages of the show — during the moment he realizes he not only loves her but wants to be with her. It’s melodramatic — or is it perfectly accurate, actually? And maybe we use that word too much, particularly when talking about girls and women? — it’s exhilarating, it’s breathless, it’s all-encompassing, it’s holding desire and despair on a scale, just waiting for one side to drop.
And in a song — in a world — like “Electric Touch”? You’re actually deeply rooted in reality, not swimming with your head in the clouds; the drums and guitars and vocals are playing perfectly to the pain of realism.
Because being alive IS dramatic — so being dramatic is realistic. And if I could walk around with a full rock band behind me, “Electric Touch” would play at the culminating moment — the moment you risk everything, the moment you let go, the moment you let your natural human instincts allow you to feel hope and fear and risk all at once.
It's no longer 2010. Taylor Swift is no longer 20. But I never really wanted it to be 2010 again, I don’t think — I just wanted to know that it has always been okay to be dramatic about my life, to feel the things I feel and to feel it and hear it at this bold, brash, extreme level. This is what “Speak Now” was always supposed to sound like. 2010’s version now sounds like a stifled young artist trying to scream — and trying her best — but not being able to fully let loose. Because girls are always told to tamp it down, to let it die, to let it go. But...
“ALL I KNOWWW...
IS THIS COULD EITHER
BREAK.
MY.
HEART.
OR BRING IT BACK TO LIFE.”
Oh, Taylor. You brought it back to life.
