I’ve made no secret over the years about my dislike for NashVegas wunderkind and fake-country recording artist Taylor Swift. She even made it into my “Uncanny Valley” series on this blog (see here) as an example of what I called the very Form of the Fake. Now, I’ll admit I’ve been pretty harsh in my evaluations of Swift– I once called her a “substandard, photorealist bad copy of a person”– but, in my defense, those evaluations were leveled against her in her younger and more insufferable years. She’s still young, and still for the most part insufferable, but I’m now ready to cut her considerably more slack than I have in the past. Mostly that’s because she and her management team have eased up a bit on insisting that she is a “country artist” and have embraced the identity that is proper to her, “pop artist.” And yeah, okay, she has produced a lot of killer good pop songs in the past few years.
Mea culpa, sorta.
Anyway, to stay true to today’s prompt, I’m resuscitating my old hatred for TS in order to make my pick. I’m choosing “22,” which is really gag-inducing. Cutesy, cloying and narcissistic, this song is about as deep as a pun.
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