I’m sorry, Miss Swift, for your astronomical ebb in level of attractiveness. Certainly, it’s hard to believe you’re the same person who once sang, with the utmost confidence and vitriolic fervor, “We are never ever ever / Getting baaaack togetherrrrrr!” (Of course, it’s equally hard to believe you’d completely abandon country music, your initial meal ticket, but that’s a story for another time.)
Just out of curiosity, have you asked for that original guy back? Or do you find enough gratifying pleasure in being a “monster on the hill” looking for “sexy babies” that his presence is rendered immaterial?
Or, for that matter, are you on enough meds that your entire emotional landscape is blurred into one, indiscernible pile of nuclear miscellany, like throwing all the colors together in order to make a big pile of brown? That is, it’s a little hard to trace the affective arc of “Anti-Hero”; since you sing with the same desultory, vapid tone in handling first-person catharsis (the “monster on the hill” verse) as you do in illustrating a scene worthy of tragicomic resignation (“I have a dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money”).
“Anti-Hero” is like a song composed of soup ingredients: you taste test and then throw a new “emotion” in there when it seems to balance things out and make for a viable marathon of bet-hedging. Am I supposed to, for this reason, finally call “Anti-Hero” a masterpiece?
Either way, you’re certainly a tough act to follow. Nobody would deny that. It’s not every day I encounter somebody who’s able to completely avoid ever looking in a mirror, let alone one who would then, in the next line, refer to herself as an “anti-hero.” It’s also not every day somebody would relegate herself to “He**,” after being murdered by her daughter-in-law, or have the chivalry, patience and spirit to start laughing, from the aforementioned locale. One thing’s for sure: you’ve certainly set the bar very high in the department of bandying about these superlatives and dramatic episodes, to then vocally relate them over a musical infrastructure so moribund and non-existent that it makes the entire universe seem like an episode of American Idol. Well, at least we know this song will be effective in protecting your spitshined reputation from intrusive pests like honesty and emotional integrity. Or, as The Dismemberment Plan once said, “Fool yourself and you can fool anyone you like”.
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