Why Taylor Swift Is the Defining Artist of This Generation (From a Non-Swiftie)
No other contemporary artist—not Drake or Beyoncé or Adele or Harry Styles—has reached this level.
Okay, first a preface. I’m not a Swiftie. Never gone to a concert. Never defended her to the death on social media. Never bought an album (though I have streamed her music, and her latest effort, Midnights, might be my favorite album she’s ever done).
Of course, you don’t have to be a fan to be aware of Taylor Swift. She’s been ubiquitous in pop culture for nearly two decades. She will go down in history as this generation’s Michael Jackson or Elvis Presley. A few years ago, that might have been up for debate. Not anymore.
No other contemporary artist—not Drake or Beyoncé or Adele or Harry Styles—has reached this level. Her albums, even the older ones, dominate the charts. She’s given football games their highest ratings since the Super Bowl by simply attending. Her dating life is followed more closely than the stock market. Her presence is everywhere—on sweatshirts, commercials, tote bags, even statues of Jesus.
Time Magazine just named her Person of the Year — probably the easiest decision in recent memory.
In the year 2023, as Sam Lansky writes in his cover story, “to discuss her movements felt like discussing politics or the weather—a language spoken so widely it needed no context. She became the main character of the world.”
It’s true. And perhaps even more noteworthy because many critics (myself included) believed the “monoculture”— the collective experience of pop culture phenomena—had mostly died by the 2000s. The internet fragmented audiences, divided attention, the logic went.
Taylor Swift has defied that logic.
Defiance, in fact, plays a big role in her career longevity.
Defying expectations (see her move from country to multiple other genres; or from high school relationship songs to much more mature content).
Defying criticisms (see the way she’s embraced the “cringe,” or the accusation of being “too calculating,” or, in her own words, not being “edgy, sexy, and cool” — “Vigilante Shit” though…)
Defying career blows. When you’re that famous, it’s inevitable. But she’s mostly found ways to not simply survive those blows but harness and exploit them for her own purposes. You might say she’s a mastermind.
“It’s all in how you deal with loss,” she says. “I respond to extreme pain with defiance.”
That’s metal as hell.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s a great storyteller.
How else could she convince hundreds of millions of people that the most famous person on the planet is still an underdog? And intimately relatable, vulnerable, and human?
What’s remarkable about her story is not only that she’s kept our attention as long as she has, but that she’s manufactured this stratospheric act so late in her career. That’s no easy feat. People get bored quickly. In the world of pop, the next new, shiny, young thing is always just around the corner.
This isn’t even a comeback. She never went away. She’s been one of the top five artists in the world for almost two decades straight. She just managed to get much bigger in Year 17.
The “Eras” concept was genius for many reasons, including that it allowed fans to think of her catalog and their relationship to each period as chapters in their own lives. She has now been the soundtrack to multiple generations.
I know a little bit about pop icons. I wrote books on Michael Jackson and Prince. This year might have been the closest thing we’ve seen to Thrillermania since 1984.
Over the past two decades, I’ve occasionally asked my students who they thought was the defining artist of their era. I could never get anything close to a consensus.
One year it was Kanye or Kendrick or Jay-Z. Another Lady Gaga or Katy Perry or Beyoncé.
I’m not talking about talent. That will always be subjective. It’s not even just about influence. Taylor Swift praised Lana Del Rey as “the most influential artist” for fellow songwriters. That might be true.
But in terms of sheer star power—the sold-out stadiums, the sing-along anthems everyone knows every word to, the almost religious allegiance and fervor, the Lebron-like body of work and accolades, it’s hard to imagine now answering the question—who is the biggest artist of this generation?—with anyone other than Taylor Swift.
I was actually thinking this the other day. Taylor is a monoculture phenomenon the likes of which we haven't seen in quite some time. I'm also not a Swiftie (I rebelled against the idea of her for quite some time before "Midnights" officially turned me around) but there's no denying her chokehold on pop culture.
Are you kidding? This article is a joke. TS doesn’t have the cross-generational, cross-racial, or complete international support that MJ did.
And there are plenty of people who cannot name, let alone sing along with, any TS song. I am one of those people. And she has been easy to ignore, even in the internet age.
But everyone knows Billie Jean, Beat It, and Thriller.
You sound like one of those people who said Barbra Streisand would be bigger and more influential than Aretha Franklin. And we both know how that turned out - despite the fact that BS outsold AR both in album sales and concert tours.
You guys will say anything. TS has one peak year, and y’all swear this bland minor talent is the second coming.