As someone who’s a Swiftie in the same way I’m a lapsed Catholic, I have a hard time wrapping my head around Taylor Swift’s twelfth and most recent album, The Life of a Showgirl.
On one hand, Showgirl is the same brand of cringe we’ve all come to expect from the now 35-year-old pop superstar, and yet something about it seems distinctly out of character. Even her most diehard fans don’t like it, which is almost impressive considering their notorious dedication. The record was jarring enough to me that it actually made me revisit her previous work, The Tortured Poets Department, with a new perspective—and a sudden grace.
Unfortunately, since Showgirl’s release on October 3rd, 2025, it seems the consensus from fans and haters alike is not good. Really, really not good. And sure, the internet will never pass up an opportunity to make fun of Taylor Swift, but this is more than just picking on an easy target. The Life of a Showgirl is the weakest work in her discography by far, with very little to redeem its glaring flaws.
To start, it’s a shockingly juvenile album, especially for someone who has been at the top of her game for years now. In terms of production, Showgirl has the depth and design of an UGG slipper—boring is the only way to describe it. Straying from her staunch partnerships with producers Jack Antonoff (of Bleachers) and Aaron Dessner (of The National), Swift teamed up instead with Max Martin and Shellback on this record, and unfortunately their presence was sorely missed. Martin and Shellback are not amateurs and even at its worst, Showgirl is listenable, but I was surprised at how flat the songs managed to fall considering their previous work.
However, the biggest problem is not the production but the lyrics. Lyrically, The Life of a Showgirl is a mess. The fifth track “Eldest Daughter” might be the worst offender, sounding like a first draft of a thirteen-year-old’s angst-ridden poetry:
“Everybody’s so punk on the internet
Everyone’s unbothered til they’re not
Every joke’s just trolling and memes”
“I’ve been dying just from trying to seem cool”
“But I’m not a bad bitch
And this isn’t savage”
Yikes.
The sad thing is, “Eldest Daughter” has one of the most tolerable melodies on the whole record, but the bad lyrics make it unlistenable. And let me make one thing clear: a Taylor Swift album without corny lyrics is like a Hallmark movie without Christmas—it’s a fact of life, and in the past it’s been even essential to her charm. In this album, however, it instead comes off as vapid and out of touch.
But, it’s not all bad. “Ruin the Friendship” has a nostalgic sound and is enjoyable, and even though “Actually Romantic” is a somewhat off-color diss on Charli XCX, I personally found its cattiness fun. It just seemed that every time Swift hit on something, like a good turn of phrase or a nice hook, it was almost immediately ruined by a line so bad I had to ask, “what was she thinking?” (After suffering through a song about Kansas City tight-end Travis Kelce’s equipment in “Wood,” I had pretty much reached my breaking point. There’s only so much phallic imagery you can take.)
Perhaps the reason Swift isn’t getting away with being corny this time, is the clunky awkwardness of her phrasing and melodies that aren’t interesting enough to justify them. Showgirl’s melodies aren’t catchy enough to warrant repeated listens, though “CANCELLED!” might be an exception; it’s the only catchy song with interesting production on the whole record, but once again, with lyrics so tone-deaf and cheesy you’ll cringe the whole way through. It’s unfortunate.
Sadly, the mix of lame melodies and even lamer lyrics make The Life of a Showgirl a particularly painful listen. It’s lacking in substance and only 40 minutes long, one of her shortest albums to date, meaning it comes and goes quickly without leaving any lasting impression.
What is perhaps most striking to me, though, is just how different Showgirl is to her previous release, The Tortured Poets Department (2024). Tortured Poets, a double album, was not exactly warmly received either; it was heavily criticized for its 31 track length, and for its self-indulgent, Tumblr-poem lyrics that tried slightly too hard to impress.
This criticism is fair enough, and my first impression of Tortured Poets also wasn’t great, but after some time and a fresh listen, I was shocked at the quality of some of its songs, quality that is severely lacking on any tracks in The Life of Showgirl. There were shining moments for her lyricism, especially on songs like “Peter” and “loml.” Even “But Daddy I Love Him,” which is a pretty cheesy song, is arguably a return to form for her songwriting: it’s clever and it tells a story in her signature three arc structure.
If Tortured Poets was trying too hard, Showgirl isn’t trying at all. It seems to me that Showgirl might have been a massive overcorrection after the critical response to her previous record. It’s half the length, and it doesn’t make any attempts at poeticism at all. Instead, it tries to capitalize on trends, on millennial and Gen Z slang. Instead of the “tortured” sad-girl aesthetic of Tortured Poets, she’s trying for a fun, sexy, energetic pop girl image, but it falls flat. The 1920s flapper, showgirl vibe may be ever-present in the promotional material, but nowhere does it reflect in the music itself. It instead has the flavor of white-billionaire toast.
Swift has never been able to rely on vocal talent alone. Her greatest strength has always been her lyricism, her endless affinity for songwriting. Combined with an unstoppable work ethic, that has been the key to her charm and success. Unfortunately, Showgirl has a glaring lack of any of those qualities. Not only is it lazy, but it’s charmless. She simply has nothing interesting to say about her life on this record, which is shocking considering she has been on top of the world for two years. What should have been a victory lap after her smash hit Eras Tour instead feels like curtains for the popstar.
While it has its fair share of cringe-worthy lyrics, I’m comfortable saying that Tortured Poets was an honest attempt at an album, and one with actual artistic intention, and aside from the obnoxious amount of Target-exclusive special editions, I wouldn’t in good conscience call it a cash grab. It was written because Taylor Swift had something to say, as someone on a billion dollar tour with a broken heart.
The same cannot be said for The Life of a Showgirl, which is a poorly concealed money grab with very little integrity.
After almost a year and with fresh ears, The Tortured Poets Department has actually aged well. I can say, with confidence, The Life of a Showgirl will not. The question now, is whether Swift will “shake it off” and bounce back from this, or if Midnights (2022) really did signal the twilight of her career in terms of song quality.
THE FINAL VERDICT: Still Taylor Swift. But barely. 4.6/10
Genre: pop
Length: 12 tracks, 41 minutes
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