Taylor Swift’s ‘Midnights’ sparkles with self-reflection and synth

Taylor Swift has always been one step ahead of the rest of us.

With her tenth studio album “Midnights,” Swift rifles through the pages of her personal life like a scrapbook, giggling at inside jokes and revelling in the creative choices that propelled her to stardom over a decade ago.

But inside that scrapbook lies real pain, too. It seems Swift might not love her mega-celebrity status or its cast over her relationships. The eating disorder to which she alluded in her 2020 documentary “Miss Americana” might have been more significant than was ever made public. She might still be feeling the sting of 2016’s #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty.

In 13 tracks, “Midnights” explores the no-man’s-land between the glitter of a budding romance and the grime of a life shaped by speculation. Sonically, Swift’s revisited production elements which on previous records felt inauthentic to her songwriting — here, they’re right at home. The hip-hop reverb of “Reputation” has matured into a softer lo-fi; “Lover”’s soft pop has crystallized into something sexier, with controlled vocal fry to match; the poetic storytelling which made “Folklore” feel like such a departure for Swift has continued and even strengthened.

And then come the bonus tracks — because Swift is always plotting. Dubbed the “3AM” songs, they’re an extra seven tunes which, according to Swift, were written during the “Midnights” sessions but scrapped from the 13-track concept album. Though “Midnights” was officially released at 12 a.m. on Oct. 21, the “3AM” B-side was, you guessed it, released to the hounds just three hours later. Swift teased the move as a “chaotic surprise” on social media, but the album’s unmarketed back half thrillingly complements its openers. Here, “Folklore” collaborator Aaron Dessner rejoins buds Swift and producer Jack Antonoff, and suddenly we’re back in a more alternative sonic wonderland, trawling through memories of late-stage girlhood with bite, poise and iridescent synth.

In short, “Midnights” might be the best album of Swift’s discography.

It’s going to be divisive. Swift and her team marketed the bejeezus out of this record — as well they should. But the aesthetic wafted in front of fans’ noses (and credit cards) seemed to promise an oh-so-trendy retro album, dripping in ‘70s colours and props. In the absence of a lead single, Swifties, preordered vinyls in hand, could daydream about what sound was waiting for them at midnight on Oct. 21 — and it was reasonable to imagine that, given the marketing, they were in for an ABBA/Fleetwood Mac-style romp through 13 stories of midnights past.

What we have here is very, very good — it’s as pleasant a surprise as false advertising can be — but if you were waiting for a throwback nostalgia record, this isn’t it.

Except, well, maybe it is — it’s a nostalgia for everything that makes Swift the deity she’s become, a slide show of Swift at her most irreverent throughout the years. It’s unapologetic lyrics about cats; it’s sparkly dresses and razor-sharp eyeliner wings; it’s pointed commentary on influencer culture (“Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I’m a monster on the hill,” croons Swift on “Anti-Hero”). Vocally, Swift sounds great, and her musical hooks are ready to explode on TikTok — “Anti-Hero” may not have been a lead single, but it could have been, a pop anthem that feels like the cool, clove-cigarette-smoking older sister of “1989”’s “Blank Space.”

What prevails on “Midnights” is Swift’s maturity, the removedness with which she gazes upon younger versions of herself. “You’re On Your Own Kid,” the newest member of Swift’s infamous roster of scorched-earth Track Fives, peels back the layers on a deeply insecure former self — “I hosted parties and starved my body,” Swift tells us with regret. “Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” she pleads to a much older ex-lover on “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve.”

That maturity, too, is bolstered by campy, who-gives-a-damn-as-long-as-I’m-having-fun storytelling. “I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money,” Swift says with a wink on “Anti-Hero.” “Karma is a cat purring in my lap ‘cause it loves me, flexing like a goddamn acrobat,” she gloats on “Karma.” These lyrics are Swift at her most indulgent, fleeting glimpses of Swift at a dinner party or mimosa-soaked brunch. Goofiness doesn’t bog down the album: it humanizes it.

“Folklore” and its sister “Evermore” were a pivot for Swift, two introspective strands of a self shoehorned into isolation. The re-recordings of “Fearless” and “Red” which followed were echoes of youth, re-hashings of adolescent neuroses and triumphs and crushes and nerves.

Here, introspection and remorse join forces with intoxicating pop sensibilities. “Midnights” is Swift at her coolest and most confident, and she’s without a doubt grown up since the country-pop battle cries which framed her early work. But Swift is done hiding from the inaccessibility of her fame, the singularity of her demons, the publicity of her most vulnerable years. With “Midnights” comes an endearing fondness for the carousel of former selves which got Swift to where she is today, even for those selves which self-sabotaged or made imprecise creative choices.

“Everything you lose is a step you take … you have no reason to be afraid,” Swift sings to a younger Taylor on “You’re On Your Own, Kid.”

And she’s right. “Midnights” proves that the music was worth the hard parts.

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