This article originally appeared on Mia Freedman's Babble, a newsletter delivering content on pop culture, modern life and being a Gen Xer in a Gen Z world. Sign up here.
Very occasionally, you have an experience so unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, that you’re not quite sure how to process it let alone how to talk about it. The pandemic was that. Still processing? Don’t want to talk about it? Same.
Taylor Swift though, well, I’m damn going to try.
This is not a review. Nor is it an exercise in persuasion or even evangelism. I’m sure you’ve already formed a view on Taylor, her music and her total dominance of global culture in this moment and nothing I say is likely to change that. You do you, Boo.
What I want to tell you about is the very specific, unique experience of attending a Taylor Swift concert. Not just any Taylor concert because I’ve been to two of those before, in 2015 and 2018. I had a marvellous time, but they were both in an earlier era of Taylor, when loving her music made you part of a sub-culture. The predictable thing to say about that is that loving Taylor back then means you’re somehow superior to those who discovered her more recently but Taylor herself insists that whether you’ve listened to her music for 15 years or 15 minutes, you’re welcome to sit with her and she’s grateful for your company.
Remember that sentiment. It holds the key to understanding a lot.
So, to the concert. Let’s not talk about how hard it was to get tickets or how much they cost or what cities she isn’t performing in because I understand all of those wounds have left scars that are ginger to touch.
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