In one scene, filmed just ahead of her 29th birthday, she experienced a minor panic attack while eating a burrito in the studio: “I kind of don’t really have the luxury of figuring stuff out,” she said, “because my life is planned two years ahead of time.” Any day now, she predicted, her proposed tour dates would start rolling in and her future would, once again, harden into a string of obligations. Early this year, she attempted to unload a career’s worth of self-analysis and confessions in a documentary titled Miss Americana. She described her 2019 album Lover like a deep breath, and she has spent the 16 months since its release in a kind of elongated exhale. Now 31, Swift is enjoying a phase characterized by great unburdenings. As she became one of the most famous artists on the planet, the sound of her music followed the trajectory of fame itself: boundless and airborne through the early 2010s-then omnipresent and colossal, on the verge of suffocating by 2017’s Reputation. Swift started telling romantic, bittersweet stories like this as a teenage songwriter in the mid-2000s, and her first instinct was to pair her words with glossy, plainspoken country-pop. Crafting the woodsy surprise album folklore in isolation, she felt the spark of something exciting and new, and knowing all things must pass, wanted to make it linger just a little longer. The tale of how evermore came to be is the stuff of first loves, holiday rom-coms, Taylor Swift songs.
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