Music Review - Taylor Swift, Midnights/Drake, Her Loss

Hall and Nathalia Legora

Having a girlfriend (Nathalia, my co-author here) who’s a confirmed ‘Swiftie’, I’m privy to storied insight on Taylor Swift’s complicated love life, typically involving Hollywood heartthrobs of questionable intent.

Likewise, on the rare occasion that I get to commandeer the car Bluetooth, Nathalia is treated to my own musical musings – learning for example how Noah 40 Shebib’s nocturnal production on Drake’s early work provided a thematically-ambiguous counterpoint to his bravado: leading the listener to question whether the rapper’s high life is merely wallpapering his deeper loss of self.

Nerdy though our fanboy/girl-ing may be, it’s also vital to the longevity of Audrey ‘Drake’ Graham and Swift’s careers – which rely on carefully curated mythologies on fan favourite ‘deep cuts’ that add back story to the instant pop appeal of their hit singles.

In 2023, however, both artists face a career conundrum: Taylor – now settled happily with long-term boyfriend Joe Alwyn – can no longer authentically mine her recent history for juicy gossip. Drake’s ‘unlucky in love’ persona, meanwhile, is stretching credulity, and his reliance on gaining clout through decidedly-petty ‘beefs’ is growing tiresome.

Both artists, however, have pulled off commercially successful musical curveballs, achieving total dominance of the charts with Midnights and Her Loss. But do these releases build on, or merely string out their legacies?

Taylor’s effort, a collaboration with acclaimed hit writer Jack Antanoff, is pitched midway between the adult contemporary Folklore/Evermore albums and the glossier Reputation era. Its vintage synth aesthetic evokes M83 and The Weeknd’s recent albums, but still feels uniquely ‘Swiftian’.

Maroon, Bejeweled and Anti Hero scratch the anthemic highs of Taylor’s earlier work. The former satisfyingly calls back the colour-based wordplay seen throughout her Red album, evoking ‘rubies’, ‘wine’, ‘cheeks’ and ‘lips’ while playing out a doomed love affair. But which unnamed lothario is she drinking ‘cheap-ass, screw-top rose’ with, hmm? Nathalia and her legion of Swifties are no doubt on Reddit to solve the mystery as I type.

While, for me, this self-mythologising treads water a little, Taylor impresses on tracks including Labyrinth where crescendoing synths pair with paranoid lyrics about crashing planes and broken elevators – a metaphor for her fame-weary, pensive persona. On Snow on The Beach , meanwhile Lana Del Rey’s vocals are used sparingly but tastefully atop plucked strings, and it’s an album highlight.

But, while Taylor employs smart production choices that complement her lyrical prowess, there’s something missing: her unique gift for pure pop. Despite our car Bluetooth squabbles, Nathalia and I agree: Taylor’s recent albums deserved their indie respectability, but her peakpop era was artistically superior.

2022, however, sees pop in a state of crisis, corrupted by meme-baiting musical gestures, of which Midnights is guilty. While Anti-Hero’s “it’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me” refrain is cute and catchy, it’s too cynically engineered for the TikTok generation to touch timeless pop masterpieces like Blank Space or Shake It Off. Drake, meanwhile, is also vying to return to his core skillsets. His last effort – the dancefloorinspired Honestly, Nevermind – failed to take off critically or commercially, but the Canadian megastar has moved on, and sounds hungry to impress again, dropping cold flows and smart wordplay throughout Her Loss, which sees him teaming up with 21 Savage, a younger, more relevant rapper in a symbiotic arrangement.

On the best tracks (Rich Flex , Middle of the Ocean, and On BS) we get Drake in peak kingpin mode, obsessed to borderline sociopathic levels with women, money and his empire. But while this alter ego that makes for addictive rap music to accompany gym workouts and car journeys (on my own usually) it’s clear that Drake, in 2022, can’t build a persona beyond the surface level. Just as Taylor’s fans miss the whirlwind days of her dating adventures that gave rise to pop perfection, Drake fans miss the vulnerable upstart who left regrettable voicemails during a late-night existential crisis on Marvin’s Room. Midnights and Her Loss both cater to meme culture, but, while for Taylor it’s a ploy, used only on occasion, 2022’s Drake is now a pure Instagram-simulacra who left his underdog persona behind long before he got the keys to his $100m mansion. Relatability isn’t everything however, and on a perverse level, Drake is painting an authentic vista of where he’s at ‘IRL’, much like Taylor is, albeit in a very different way. But while both artists’ albums make the cut for my car stereo in 2022, their earlier work will endure long after my next MOT. “That’s a real fucking legacy, to leave,” as Taylor might’ve put it on Maroon.