THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT Vinyl + Bonus Track "The Manuscript"

16曲 + ボーナストラック"The Manuscript"収録
24ページのブック付き見開きジャケット。未公開写真と3曲の手書き歌詞印刷。(本LP商品のみの楽曲歌詞)
ファントムクリア・カラーヴァイナル2LP
未公開写真が印刷されたスリーヴケース付き

(C)2024 Taylor Swift
Taylor Swift(R)
Used By Permission. All Rights Reserved.

TOWER RECORDS限定 ファントムクリア・カラーヴァイナル

発売・販売元 提供資料 （2024/03/19）

For the most part, Taylor Swift’s various eras have been distinctive and well-defined. There were her country beginnings, a crossover to both sharp pop and global superstardom, the era of cozy indie folk she briefly detoured into with the 2020 albums Folklore and Evermore, and a deeper embrace of throwback synth pop on 2022’s Midnights, to name just a few. The era presented in Swift’s 11th studio album, The Tortured Poets Department, is harder to pin down. Produced with long-time collaborators Jack Antonoff and the Nationals Aaron Dessner, the album pulls from Swift’s previous phases rather than introducing any new overarching identity or sound, with songs loosely connected by scenes from a bitter, messy breakup. While heavy-handed poetics are ostensibly part of the core concept, seething breakup songs are nothing new for Swift, and the lack of a solid stylistic or narrative through-line makes the album feel like an incoherent vision board of every idea she had during the songwriting process. There’s more Midnights-esque neon pop on tracks like “Down Bad” and “Florida!!!” (the latter a duet with Florence + the Machine), aching quasi-folk balladry on “loml,” and inclusions like “Guilty as Sin?” or “Clara Bow,” which sound like they could be outtakes from 1989, Lover, or any post-2012 point in Swift’s discography. Antonoff’s production and Swift’s affected vocal phrasing repeatedly recall Lana Del Rey on moody tracks like “Fresh Out the Slammer” (which incorporates an interesting beat switch near the end) and “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys,” but Swift largely falls back on old songwriting tricks rather than fully inhabiting this style or making it her own. The Tortured Poets Department is tedious. Never mind the surprise-release double-album version The Anthology, which adds 15 extra songs and another hour to the run-time; the standard issue is already made up of 16 tracks that meander as they struggle to make their points. While something like Swift’s extended, ten-minute-long “Taylor’s Version” of Red standout “All Too Well” could maintain an emotional intensity that warranted its epic length, tunes like the flailing and confusing “But Daddy I Love Him” and the slogging “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me” simply overstay their welcome. For a songwriter responsible for some of the biggest choruses and best-selling melodies of her generation, there’s a surprising lack of immediacy or even cheap, sure-thing pop hooks here. Songs like “Fortnight” (which is weighed down by a mushy Post Malone feature) and the tepid title track aim for the kind of memorable earworms Swift has created better than most, but they fall short. All of these various missteps culminate in an album that feels like a missed opportunity. While the feelings here are melodramatic and overexpressed, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, so is some of Swift’s best work, but with far more interesting results. A better-organized, more thoughtfully edited version of the album, one that turned the best songs over a few more times until some hit-worthy elements emerged, could have taken Swift into a whole new era. ~ Fred Thomas

Rovi