Taylor Swift’s new album ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ has some of her best songs in years — and some of her cringiest

• Taylor Swift released her 12th studio album, “The Life of a Showgirl,” on Friday.
• All 12 tracks were cowritten and co-produced by Swift with pop powerhouses Max Martin and Shellback.
• Much like the trio’s work on “Reputation,” the new music is catchy and bold but often leans cringey.

Taylor Swift’s new album, “The Life of a Showgirl,” arrived Friday with all the flamboyant, catchy bombast she promised — often deployed to the album’s detriment.

“Showgirl” hits the airwaves mere weeks after Swift’s engagement to NFL star Travis Kelce whom she began dating in 2023, and one year after Swift’s commercially successful yet critically polarizing 2024 album, “The Tortured Poets Department.”

This time around, Swift opted not to work with her recent go-to producers, Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner, reuniting instead with pop powerhouses Max Martin and Karl “Shellback” Schuster, who helped create some of her biggest pre-2020 hits, including “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” “Shake It Off,” “Blank Space,” and “Delicate.”

All 12 songs on “Showgirl” are cowritten and co-produced by Swift, Martin, and Shellback. During her appearance on Kelce’s podcast, “New Heights,” Swift said it felt like an equal team-up for the first time.

“It felt like all three of us in the room were carrying the same weight as creators,” she said. “We’ve been waiting years to come back together and make this project.”

Swift also said her main goals for the album were twofold: “Melodies that were so infectious that you’re almost angry at it, and lyrics that are just as vivid, but crisp and focused and completely intentional.”

“Showgirl” was written and produced in Sweden last year, during Swift’s downtime on the Eras Tour. In contrast to “Poets,” which is dominated by breakup songs, manic spirals, and existential crises, “Showgirl” is an upbeat pop album that Swift said reflects the happier shift in her life behind the curtain.

“It just comes from the most infectiously joyful, wild, dramatic place I was in in my life,” she explained. “That effervescence has come through on this record.”

Business Insider’s senior pop culture writer and resident Swift expert, Callie Ahlgrim, reviewed each track upon first listen. (Skip to the end to see the only songs worth listening to and the album’s final score.)

“The Fate of Ophelia” is the first song worthy of being Swift’s lead single in years.

Fans love to tease Swift for being a horrible judge of lead singles, especially for her pop albums. Despite each song’s success, “Shake It Off,” “Look What You Made Me Do,” “Anti-Hero,” and “Fortnight” are among the weakest tracks on their respective albums. (We don’t even talk about “Me!” anymore.)

“The Fate of Ophelia” is indisputably the best of the bunch — a rare song that’s worthy of the radio push, music video, and everything else that comes with a lead single treatment.

Much like Swift’s first crossover hit, “Love Story,” Swift audaciously rewrites a Shakespearean tragedy, absorbing its characters into her own lore. Ophelia famously meets her watery death in “Hamlet” after she loses the ability to communicate; in the final moments of her life, she’s misunderstood and pitied by everyone around her. Swift herself feared she might suffer that very fate, singing in the first verse, “If you’d never called for me / I might’ve drowned in melancholy.”

This is not only a reference to Ophelia’s final scene, but also to Swift’s previous relationship. “You don’t really read into my melancholia,” she sings in the 2022 single “Lavender Haze.” Years earlier, in the 2017 track “Gorgeous,” she gazed into her lover’s blue eyes and prophesied that she might “sink and drown and die.”

But in “The Fate of Ophelia,” the heroine is able to change the prophecy. The title of Swift’s version belies her romantic triumph.

“Elizabeth Taylor” is another bop in the upper echelon of Swift’s discography.

In “Elizabeth Taylor,” Swift blurs the line between her own perspective and that of the iconic starlet — a woman known for her many husbands and trysts as much as her movies and awards, whose name is synonymous with tragedy as much as glamour. It’s not hard to understand why Swift might relate.

Indeed, Swift previously referenced Elizabeth Taylor on her 2017 single “…Ready For It?” Back then, she compared her own relationship to Taylor’s torrid, obsessive love affair with Richard Burton.

Now, Swift evokes the actor’s seductress reputation and her struggle to earn long-term respect from industry bigwigs: “They say I’m bad news, I just say, ‘Thanks,'” “You’re only as hot as your last hit, baby.” It’s like “The Last Great American Dynasty” meets “Blank Space,” set against lush, string-laden production. No notes.

“Opalite” keeps up the energy with optimistic lyrics and bright production.

“Opalite” boasts an impressively succinct synopsis for Swift’s past year and the shift from “Poets” to “Showgirl,” from greyscale to iridescence: “Sleepless in the onyx night / But now the sky is opalite.”

Kelce was born in October, which means his birthstone is opal — and that’s just one of the classic Swiftian flourishes that make “Opalite” such a delight. Like its title, the song practically shimmers.

“Father Figure” interpolates an iconic George Michael song with fascinating results.

At first blush, “Father Figure” sounds like Swift’s serenade to a one-time protégée, a chance to flaunt her own influence in the music industry.

But upon further inspection, it feels more likely that “Father Figure” is making fun of Scott Borchetta, the CEO of Big Machine Records, Swift’s former label.

Swift opens the song with a clear clue: “When I found you, you were young,” she sings. Swift signed her first record contract with Big Machine when she was a teenager. She has since said that Borchetta took on a protective, parent-like role in her life. “I truly, legitimately thought he looked at me as the daughter he never had,” Swift told Rolling Stone in 2019.

In the chorus, Swift continues with this metaphor, painting the narrator as a shameless, patriarchal capitalist: “I’ll be your father figure / I drink that brown liquor / I can make deals with the devil because my dick’s bigger / This love is pure profit / Just step into my office.”

The “devil” in question is likely Scooter Braun, who acquired Big Machine in 2019. The sale included the legal rights to Swift’s first six albums, a change of hands that Swift described as her “worst case scenario.”

She also described Borchetta’s team-up with Braun as “a redefinition of betrayal for me, just because it felt like it was family,” and criticized the pair’s announcement imagery.

“These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work,” she told Rolling Stone. “And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of scotch to themselves.”

“Father Figure” is full of juicy character work that illuminates Swift’s lingering rage — and even better, it’s a catchy and worthy predecessor to George Michael’s own subversive hit.

“Eldest Daughter” is the most revealing and specific song on the album.

“Eldest Daughter” fails to pack the same emotional wallop as other track fives in Swift’s oeuvre, like “So Long, London,” “Tolerate It,” “My Tears Ricochet,” “Dear John,” and “All Too Well.”

However, much like the fifth track on “Midnights,” “You’re On Your Own, Kid,” this song offers a charming peek into Swift’s childlike psyche that makes up for the lyrical simplicity.

In the second verse, Swift recalls laughing so hard that she fell off a friend’s trampoline and broke her arm. That, paired with a crush gone wrong, forced her to adopt “cautious discretion.”

Swift uses similar language in the seventh track on “Folklore,” “Seven,” but this time, she makes an explicit connection between learned civility and the lies she’s told herself to make excuses for her romantic failures: “When I said I don’t believe in marriage, that was a lie.”

Thus, in “Eldest Daughter,” Swift sheds her metaphors, costumes, and pretensions to make a simple vow: “I’m never gonna leave you now.” It’s pure, it’s innocent, and that’s the point.

“Ruin the Friendship” revisits techniques and themes from Swift’s early work.

“Ruin the Friendship” is a true throwback, rehashing a bygone crush from Swift’s teenage days.

The lyrics make the most of the nostalgia, referencing songs in Swift’s early discography. “Should’ve kissed you anyway,” Swift sings in the chorus, echoing her country hit “Our Song” (“The first date, ‘Man, I didn’t kiss her and I should have'”). She also name-drops her longtime best friend in the bridge, just as she does in “Fifteen,” a fan-favorite single from “Fearless” (“Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind / And we both cried”).

The narrative ends with a classic Swiftian twist: Her onetime crush has since died. The final chorus depicts Swift standing at his grave, full of fond memories and regret.

The overall effect is warm and wistful, but ultimately forgettable and, it must be said, random in the context of this tracklist.

“Actually Romantic” is unmistakably a Charli XCX diss track.

No, your ears are not playing tricks on you. Yes, this song is almost certainly about Charli XCX, its title an obvious reference to her song “Everything Is Romantic.”

Charli’s celebrated 2024 album “Brat” also included a song called “Sympathy Is a Knife,” which is widely speculated to be inspired by her complicated relationship with Swift (though Charli declined to confirm that theory).

However, it’s important to note that “Sympathy Is a Knife” is not really a diss track. It’s a song about Charli’s own insecurities and her inferiority complex, which is triggered in the presence of a hyper-successful peer: “I couldn’t even be her if I tried / I’m opposite, I’m on the other side,” Charli sings in the chorus. “I feel all these feelings I can’t control.”

Whether Swift is that peer makes little difference. The song’s content is self-consciously melodramatic, almost embarrassing. Charli doesn’t say anything disparaging about her muse — only about herself.

It doesn’t sound like Swift took it the same way. “Actually Romantic” is a practice in punching down and making quips at Charli’s expense. (In the slim chance the song is not about Charli, there’s no way Swift didn’t realize how it would be interpreted.)

“Wrote me a song saying it makes you sick to see my face / Some people might be offended,” Swift sings. “But it’s actually sweet / All the time you’ve spent on me.”

I’ll be honest: I thought Swift was more dignified than this. She even praised Charli, her previous tourmate, in the pages of New York Magazine at the height of “Brat” summer hype. There’s no reason, so many months later, she should be feeding the mean-girl rumors.

The only saving grace is that “Actually Romantic” works well as a meta commentary about Swift’s haters. There are hordes of people out there and online who are tracking Swift’s every move, foaming at the mouth to debate the virtues of her songwriting, her relationship, or her reputation at any opportunity. That behavior looks an awful lot like devotion — or, as Swift might put it, “It feels like you’re flirting with me.”

“Wi$h Li$t” is where the album really takes a turn for the worse.

“Showgirl” loses much of its footing after track five, becoming unfocused and self-indulgent.

Still, at least “Ruin the Friendship” is pleasantly sentimental, and “Actually Romantic” has interesting subtext. “Wi$h Li$t,” meanwhile, runs surprisingly low on redeeming qualities. It’s essentially a listicle of stuff people might hypothetically want. So?

Sure, there’s an attempt at juxtaposition: other people chase Balenciaga sunglasses and a “fat ass with a baby face” (more Kim Kardashian shade?), whereas Swift only wants a future with her muse. But it’s just too heavy-handed to be effective.

Sonically, “Wi$h Li$t” sounds like a combination of “Bejeweled,” “Gorgeous,” and “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” — three of the most grating songs in Swift’s catalog. This is a skip if there ever was one.

“Wood” is the album’s worst song.

I take it back: This is a skip if there ever was one.

“Wood” is what might happen if you asked a predictive text machine to swallow memes about Swift’s writing style and spit out lyrics about sex with her football player fiancé, then inexplicably set the song to Jackson 5-esque production. (Swift has written excellent songs about sex, by the way, including “Dress” and “Guilty as Sin?” — so I’m not saying she can’t do it. I’m saying she didn’t do it this time.)

“Cancelled!” is little more than “Reputation” redux.

Swift loves writing songs about gendered double standards, the endless snares women must sidestep to be likable, especially as it pertains to her own personal infamy: “I Did Something Bad,” “The Man,” “Mad Woman,” and “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” are just a selection of examples.

“Cancelled!” expands the bubble of Swift’s righteous fury to encompass her pals. “Good thing I like my friends canceled,” the refrain goes. Elsewhere, she sarcastically intones, “Did you girlboss too close to the sun? Did they catch you having too much fun?”

Beyond the cringey use of outdated internet slang, there is thematic potential here. What happens when a group of women embraces their flaws and bands together? How do women like Swift and her close confidants — like Blake Lively, for example — persist in Hollywood despite sexism, alleged sexual harassment, and online smear campaigns?

Alas, Swift does not explore that potential. She relies instead on quippy turns of phrase and lyrical eye-rolls to do the heavy lifting, but leaves the meat and marrow of this topic untouched.

Martin and Shellback shrewdly pair Swift’s cancelled-woman anthem with pounding, warlike drums and dramatic flourishes — but try as they might, “Cancelled!” can’t be rescued by polished packaging. How ironic.

“Honey” is a welcome late-album highlight.

As evidenced by “Wi$h Li$t” and “Wood,” Swift struggles to depict romance in a fresh or inventive way on “Showgirl.” And yet, I genuinely relate to “Honey.” Swift perfectly captures the frustration induced by a man who uses “sweetheart” or “honey” as tools for condescension or cruelty — and the girlish thrill when a man uses those same pet names and really, truly means them.

Appropriately, “Honey” recalls the sweetest, sparkliest moments on “Lover,” an album that traverses the spectrum of love, from anxiety to awe, at an equal rate.

“The Life of a Showgirl” explores the joys and risks of fame.

As a non-famous person, I tend to shun songs that are written entirely about the author’s personal experience with fame. Who is this for? Surely not me!

That being said, the title track of “The Life of a Showgirl” makes excellent use of Swift’s sarcastic, biting humor — and smartly enlists Sabrina Carpenter, famed for embracing a diva-meets-slapstick persona, to help drive it home.

“All the headshots on the walls of the dance hall are of the bitches who wish I’d hurry up and die,” Swift sings in the bridge. “But I’m immortal now, baby dolls, couldn’t if I tried.”

Bars like those are effective because, while rooted in truth, they’re self-consciously hyperbolic. When Swift is able to lean into the pagentry and absurdity of her own position — without wallowing too long in the woes and pitfalls — it’s magic.

Final Grade: 6.3/10

I have often said the perfect length for a pop album is between 11 and 13 songs, lasting anywhere from 30 to 50 minutes.

My thesis is supported by plenty of recent evidence: Ariana Grande’s “Thank U, Next,” Beyoncé’s “B’Day,” Dua Lipa’s “Future Nostalgia,” Olivia Rodrigo’s “Sour,” and Swift’s own “1989,” to name a few.

The challenge inherent in this method is that the shorter an album is, the more immaculate and incontestable each song needs to be.

Swift certainly believes she achieved this with “The Life of a Showgirl.”

“We knew that we had to bring the best ideas we’ve ever had,” she said of herself and her collaborators, Martin and Shellback, during her “New Heights” appearance. “I also know the pressure I’m putting on this record by saying that, but I don’t care, ’cause I love it that much.”

I certainly admire and applaud Swift for going full throttle and committing to her vision. “Showgirl” is the most brazenly pop-forward, melodically savvy, and structurally polished album that Swift has released in about a decade.

On the other hand, that decade has yielded some of Swift’s best and most beloved lyrical work. Even when telling her most intricate stories, she has never stopped being accessible. We know what she’s capable of. Songs like “The Fate of Ophelia,” “Elizabeth Taylor,” “Opalite,” and “Father Figure” demonstrate Swift’s ability to blend personal narrative with allegory, allusion, and vivid imagery, all without sacrificing a radio-friendly hook. If the rest of the tracklist met that high-water mark, “Showgirl” would be a pop masterpiece for the ages.

Play: “The Fate of Ophelia,” “Elizabeth Taylor,” “Opalite,” “Father Figure,” “Eldest Daughter,” “Honey,” “The Life of a Showgirl (featuring Sabrina Carpenter)”

Filler: “Ruin the Friendship”

Skip: “Actually Romantic,” “Wi$h Li$t,” “Wood,” “Cancelled!”

*Final album score based on songs per category (1 point for “Worth listening to,” .5 for “Background music,” 0 for “Press skip”).

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