Taylor Swift’s ‘evermore’ – an Ode to Lockdown?

Taylor Swift stunned fans back in December with the release of her second pandemic-produced album, evermore. Adopting a more melancholic tone than the formerly produced folklore, it has generally been rated as the inferior album, with Redbrick’s Sammy Andrews noting that it lacks ‘the sonic and thematic cohesion that shined in folklore’. However, its wistful, sullen and at times disjointed style seems to fit more appropriately with the frustration currently being felt as we enter into our third national lockdown. And to conclude the album, the quiet and often-overlooked track ‘evermore’ is a gem of a record, that perfectly evokes the curious experience of social isolation.

Despite the eponymous title, ‘evermore’ was not designed to be the quintessential number on the album, and in fact it is ‘willow’ that was released first as a key single. ‘evermore’ is Swift’s second collaboration with Bon Iver, with the first being folklore’s ‘exile’, and it would be tempting to read this later track within the same vein. It is true that there are some similarities between the two numbers, as both include a dialogue between the two vocalists, and certain lines seem to speak to each other: as when ‘exile’ asks- ‘what am I defending now’, and ‘evermore’ echoes- ‘can’t remember /  what I used to fight for.’ Yet, to regard ‘evermore’ as just another lover’s tiff is to undermine the dramatic weight of the song, which transcends the realm of relationships, landing on something deeply existential.

Swift begins ‘evermore’ by establishing a time-frame, as she muses, ‘Grey November / I’ve been down since July.’ Hearing this line immediately brought the lockdown to mind, as July marks the moment when many of us lost our spring-fuelled motivation, and gained the sinking feeling that the pandemic was still going on, and not much had been achieved, despite months of isolation. The track later moves into ‘December’, introducing imagery such as ‘barefoot in the wildest winter / catching my death’, evoking the harsh season that we now face. As many of us use music as a means of escapism, it can be uncomfortable to witness the barren, bitter landscape reflected in this song, but I believe that this honesty has value. We need to experience the icy cold, with its emptiness and hopelessness, in order to appreciate the warm sunlight that will follow.

Another theme that pervades the song is the idea of memory, or lack of. Swift describes a ‘feeling so peculiar’, where time seems to stand still, and ‘I rewind the rape but all it does is pause.’ Many of us find ourselves trapped in a kind of liminal space at the moment, lost in the cracks between our past memories and our (cancelled) future plans. In fact, the New Statesman’s Sarah Manavis suggests that this ‘lockdown amnesia’ is a common phenomena during long periods of monotony. According to Robert Logue, professor of human cognitive neuroscience at the University of Edinburgh, our minds are trained to collect certain details about key moments in our lives, including our expectations generated from past events. If there is nothing unique about a particular event, the precise details are forgotten rapidly, and we end up with a ‘generic memory of a typical day during the pandemic.’ Perhaps, this is the feeling that Swift describes of the paused tape, where new memories seem to dissipate.

Curiously, Bon Iver’s vocal part seems to relish in this liminal space, repeatedly stating ‘can we just get a pause?’ This explores the other side of the coin, where the liminal lockdown space is appreciated and even welcomed. We find comfort in the lack of structure, so that the prospect of returning to society as normal again generates anxiety. Iver calls for a pause so that ‘we can be certain we’ll be tall again’, which calls upon a key motivation for social isolation. We stay at home now, so we can be ‘tall’ – that is, safe, and well – in the future.

Other aspects of Iver’s vocal part seem to refer to difficult aspects of 2020. He states that he ‘can’t not think of all the cost’, where the double negative portrays the difficulty of coming to terms with trauma, as we attempt to comprehend the lives lost and damage caused by this pandemic. If Swift’s voice is the wistful yet collected one, Iver’s is the chaotic and confused. It seems important to acknowledge the range of responses that we’ve had during this time, where it’s not always possible to remain rational and level-headed. The two voices are not so much in dialogue as they are in debate, and the A-B-A structure of the song challenges the conventional romantic duet. When Iver’s part first comes in, the track rapidly changes tempo, allowing for a passionate exchange. This unifies the vocal parts in the final part of the song, when they adopt the same tune, suggesting that some resolution can be found.

While we may be experiencing ‘lockdown amnesia’, experts suggest that we may actually remember key events from 2020 more vividly than in other years. Manavis argues that ‘what will be remembered are those invaluable, rare windows when we did get to do something – anything – with the people in our lives’. I notice these snapshots of memory in ‘evermore’ with the references to ‘cracks of light’ and the search of something ‘real enough / to get me through.’ In difficult times, we hold on to what is real, whether this is our family and friends, our work, or indeed music.

This resolution occurs within the bridge, after which the track moves towards its conclusion. Here, Swift alters a line so that it now runs, ‘this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.’ Compared to previous instances, this change is to so subtle that I failed to notice it on the first few listens. It offers a quiet optimism, a moment of hope, expertly placed at the very end of the album.

Any evidence to suggest that Swift specifically wrote this song about the lockdown remains speculative. Regardless, an important part of this experience is making sense of how we feel, and many will find this within art. For me, Swift’s ‘evermore’ is a testimony to how these last months have felt. I’ll never forget the pandemic, so in this sense it will last forever, but as Swift reminds us, the pain will not.