If you're not deeply versed in Swiftian Lore, you probably think this was her first album, and understandably so. It's the album that Love Story and You Belong With Me are on, the album she first one the aoty grammy for, the album that gave rise to That VMA Incident- in other words, although it's her sophmore album, it's the one that broke out of the country music charts and into the Pop Sphere. Even if you've never listened to the album, you know it, at least to some degree. (Sound familiar?)
Yes, I've been trying to avoid making these analyses about the meta status of these works in pop culture, and instead about the contents and themes of the works themselves, but it's hard to talk about Ocarina without acknowledging its colossal footprint on games as a medium. While Fearless wasn't quite as pioneering as, say, inventing lock-on targeting, it did have a massive impact on the music industry, not only from a commercial perspective (revitalizing the country music market from its death throes), but from an important artistic perspective: she was a teenage girl who wrote her own songs, and in the last few years we've been seeing how significant an impact that had in the number of young female songwriters who cite Swift and this album as what made them realize they, too, could pick up a guitar and write their own stories.
(Also, this album includes the lyric "I don't know how it gets better than this", which is exactly what everyone said when Ocarina first came out xD )
Okay, onto the real analysis!
Fearless is an album about growing up, and reconciling the idealized vision of adulthood (or late adolescence) you've dreamed of all your life - the pastiche made up of images from teen movies and tv and magazines - with the uncomfortable and often disappointing reality you find upon your arrival. it's about making a beeline for adulthood and then looking back and wishing you could tell your younger self to stop and breathe (literally - there's a lyric on the album that goes "count to ten, take it in / this is life before you know who you're gonna be"). OOT is also, obviously and devastatingly, about growing up, and specifically about wanting to grow up and then getting there and realizing it's nothing like you thought it would be, and it cost you something you can never get back.
Fearless starts out with the title track, an ode to the excitement at the beginning of a first relationship, the siren call of young love; the whole world is wide open before you, and even the most mundane of things ("there's something 'bout the way / the street looks when it's just rained / there's a glow off the pavement) can seem magical. you want to bask in the moment and to hightail it to happily ever after all at once. taylor describes this feeling as "fearless", and one of the examples she gives of this fearlessness is "with you i'd dance / in a storm, in my best dress / fearless". it's kind of a perfect encapsulation of the exact brand of fearlessness that comes with youth: you can be that fearless in large part because you don't yet know what there is to fear out there. there are much scarier things in adult life and relationships than ruining your clothes in a storm, and there are much scarier things in hyrule than the stalchildren in hyrule field at night; and by the end of their respective album and game, both taylor and link will have learned that, however much they might wish they could go back to a time they'd not yet had to learn those lessons.
one of the oft-discussed kind of metanarrative features of OOT is that kids spend the opening section desperate to reach Adult Link. You'll hear people (mostly younger people, and people who haven't played since they were much younger) talk about the jump to Adult Link as "where the game really starts", or something along those lines. It's kind of trite to even point out how well this maps onto being a kid who can't wait to grow up, who sees adulthood as "when life really starts", and how central the difference between a child and adult's perspective on childhood is to the game and its themes. everyone somersaults and sidesteps across hyrule field as they try to book it to hyrule castle, and yeah, part of that is because hyrule field is so damn big and empty, but it makes for a nice little microcosm of what OOT is saying about growing up, as you hightail towards a destination you might not like once you get there.
even amidst the lows of growing up, there are always highs, too; both fearless and OOT let you bask in moments of triumph. there's a reason "love story" and "you belong with me" are still hailed among the best of pop music (fittingly enough, the former sees Taylor "sneak out to the garden to see you", just like Link sneaks into the castle garden to meet with Zelda; yes, I've been giggling about that since it occured to me.) but you can't freeze time in one, perfect moment, and even the cutesiest love songs start to develop a bit of a sad undertone: "hey stephen, why are people always leaving? / i think you and i should stay the same." while link's big "coming of age" moment obviously happens when he blinks and finds himself seven years older, his actual coming of age story starts at the very beginning of the game, as the darkness of the larger world encroaches on the idyllic kokori forest, poisoning and killing the deku tree; and in his child link travels, he encounters more of this darkness, be it darunia's depression or princess ruta’s deceased mother. notably, the darkest dungeon (pun not intended) of the whole game can only be accessed by child link. it's also likely the last extended bit of time you'll spend as child link in this game; some things you can't come back from knowing.
fearless charts a number of losses that come with growing up. on “white horse”, taylor laments the loss of the fantasies that come with childhood naïveté (“now i know / that i’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale”). this bears some similarity to the transition between acts one and two of OOT, as link and zelda’s grand plan to save the kingdom crashes down around them and they discover they’ve been outwitted since the very start; they fail, something stories and prophecies never prepared them for, and the consequences are more horrifying than they could have imagined (hyrule castle town post-time jump, anyone?) another fearless track, “breathe”, mourns the end of a friendship - not because you moved away or changed schools and lost touch, as with countless childhood friendships, but because the people you’ve grown into are just too different. it’s one of the less common elements of coming of age narratives, but one of the most heartbreaking parts of growing up: “never a clean break, no one here to save me / you’re the only thing i know like the back of my hand”. while link doesn’t lose a friend quite in the same way, there’s a similar kind of heartache in his friendship with saria, both in the realization that she hasn’t grown up and never will, and the discovery that they both have destinies that lead them apart, and must say goodbye.
“tell me why” and “you’re not sorry” both document the loss of blind trust, from a place of anger and of sadness respectively; then “the way i loved you” and “forever & always” each grapple with memories, how they can hold you back and how they can betray you. the former sees taylor unable to emotionally invest in a new relationship because of the intensity of a former one, which she misses in spite of herself: “my heart's not breaking /
'cause I'm not feeling anything at all.” in the latter, taylor is dismayed and angry to find that promises she and her partner made to each other meant less to him than they did to her. what’s particularly interesting about the latter song with regards to OOT is how it frames an emotional imbalance in a relationship in terms of memory: “back up, baby, back up / did you forget everything?” one of the most horrifying implications of everything link goes through in OOT is that, at the end, no one remembers but him, and none of the people he forged friendships with have any recollection of it at all; even navi leaves him. so much of OOT maps onto real parts of growing up, albeit in a fantastical and exaggerated fashion, and this has always evoked to me the experience of learning that someone you cherish your memories of doesn’t feel the same way, or remember nearly as much of your time together in childhood.
as we can see, the second half of the album is pretty much all sad or angry, until the very last two songs, but even those have caveats. "the best day" is a heartwarming tribute to her mother, but with a bittersweet twinge, as her recollections go from her mother taking her to a pumpkin patch to her mother consoling her as she cries about school bullies, and while her mother manages to cheer her up, taylor still notes that she “don't know how long it's gonna take to feel okay”; growing up means your problems aren’t as easily fixable, and your hurts last much longer. the final song, change, takes the inevitability of change, responsible for so much of the heartbreak throughout the album, and frames it as a source of hope, that if things can change, they will change again. it’s an anthem against giving up, but the song is premised on being stuck in a present that makes you want to give up (“you know it's all the same, another time and place / repeating history and you're getting sick of it”). in the final verse of the song, taylor goes from future tense (“these things will change”) to past tense (“it was the night things changed”). the music quiets down, and then the instruments kick back in more triumphant than ever (cue OOT end credits.) and yet the triumph here doesn’t hold a candle to the highs of “love story” and “you belong with me”. it’s the end of the album, and yet there’s less resolution here than there is on earlier tracks. real life doesn’t really have happily ever afters, not because happiness doesn’t exist but because life carries on where a movie would roll credits; all we can look forward to is the inexorable approach of change.
if you’re up on your taylor swift lore, you know folklore and evermore are considered “sister albums” - both written and recorded during the pandemic, released five months apart, with a shared “cinematic universe” of sorts, and both characterized by taylor as getting lost in the woods (artistically) and staying there for a while. all of that is true, but if folklore is a lush forest in summer or high fall, evermore is a forest in late winter - the trees are bare, the world is quieter, and all around are signs of death and decay; yet even still, peeking out from the snow are hints of life returning, of nature in all its persistence gearing up to bloom again.
like MM, BOTW is a game about dealing with the apocalypse, but while in MM that apocalypse is imminent, in BOTW it’s a few generations past, still in living memory for some (like the zora) but for the most part the formative shadow under which the people of the world were raised and which society is just starting to emerge from. (this is a real sidebar, but i’ve always thought MM and BOTW were the zelda games most visibly influenced by ff7; in MM, with the moon hanging over the world, akin to meteor in disc 3; in BOTW, i see the final shot of midgar’s ruins overtaken by nature in every corner of hyrule.) but botw isn’t evermore just because it’s a sister to mm/folklore. evermore is an album of aching grief, not just for things lost but for potentials never realized, for “could-have-beens” that never were, for longing after that which was once in your reach but no longer is; “we could just ride around / and the road not taken looks real good now.” i think the champions’ fates are among the most haunting of any zelda characters; they were all brilliant and talented, in their primes, leaders in their communities, brave and true with full lives ahead of them, and they all died horribly, trapped and alone. whether or not mipha’s feelings for link were requited or not, she’ll never know, and link will never have the chance to respond one way or another; “i guess i’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show”.
evermore is also an album about figuring out who you are (or are going to be) after a loss: “and in the disbelief / i can’t face reinvention/ i haven’t met the new me yet.” in botw, this theme is prevalent on both an individual and a societal level; link spends the game both learning who he was before and who he is now, through finding old memories and through making new ones, and likewise hyrule is rebuilding itself, trying to figure out what it’s going to become, but that future kingdom hasn’t quite taken shape yet (nor have it’s tears- sorry for the pun, i’ll stop now). “there is happiness / past the blood and bruise / past the curses and cries / beyond the terror in the nightfall.” yet people are relentless in their persistence, their determination to keep going, to create life out of a wasteland of death; and through the tarreytown quests the game makes you a party to this, makes you and link engage with the way humanity refuses to be stamped out. “oh, i can’t / stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows / and now i’m covered in you.”
here’s the part where i say, full disclosure: i played BOTW in the weeks before and months after my grandmother’s death, and for me that game is inextricably tied to my grief. on evermore, taylor has a song grieving her grandmother (see “marjorie”, pack tissues). i don’t believe that’s why i think evermore is BOTW, and i think i’ve proven that here, but it’s be naive of me to think there’s no connection going on in my subconscious because of that.
another difference between MM/folklore and BOTW/evermore is in the pacing; even though both albums are roughly the same length, folklore feels very tightly paced, extremely sonically coherent, with one clear central vision. evermore is a bit more meandering, more experimental, more willing to sit in silence and sadness and watch the frozen landscape for a while. it still plays with different characters and fictional storylines (and like in MM, link/the player spends a lot of BOTW in the role of observer), but they’re not as interwoven as those on folklore; likewise, in BOTW the characters are spread far and wide across hyrule instead of largely gathered in clocktown, their lives are far less intertwined, and while the NPCs do all have scheduled trajectories of sorts they’re far less strict or significant than those of MM. (also of note; while in folklore, the “teenage love triangle” of songs - cardigan, august, and betty, each from the point of view of a different character from the same love triangle - has resolution, a degree of closure, and some real catharsis on “betty”, the evermore equivalent, ‘tis the damn season and dorothea, have no resolution or closure or catharsis of any kind. unfulfilled, just like the champions’ lives and potential.)
all of these themes and ideas are also summed up within one BOTW character: zelda. unfulfilled potential is the name of the game with her, as she’s constantly told she’s a failure for her inability to unlock her powers, while also being shut off from all her research, her potential as a scholar and any potential discoveries her passion could have led her to, and any lives that knowledge might have saved. (in age of calamity, we learn that zelda’s research into technology could and would have been able to save at least some lives, but the canon of that game is questionable, and regardless BOTW zelda doesn’t know any of that because it never happened; she’s just left with the possibility that maybe she could have uncovered something, but no certainty.) zelda’s grief goes without saying, as we see her breaking down in flashbacks, and her longing - for her powers, to be a scholar, to not be a princess, to be free of the burden of prophecy - is everywhere. (not to mention, the game opens with link hearing zelda’s voice but unable to reach her; whether you interpret their relationship as romantic or not, the whole game is framed with a longing for something you can’t reach). and the persistence of hyrule in surviving and rebuilding despite the calamity is reflected in zelda’s persistence in holding ganon at bay for a whole century; and, in the “true ending” scene you get for unlocking all the memories, we see her already making plans for hyrule, for where to go next and how to move forward.
there’s a lot more i could say, but i’ll end with the final track of evermore, fittingly named “evermore”, which i think sums up the themes of this game so well: “and i couldn’t be sure / but i had a feeling so peculiar / this pain wouldn’t be for / evermore.”
addendum: ah, crap, i meant to write something about the champion’s abilities as representation for still feeling the presence of loved ones after they’ve passed, and “if i didn’t know better / i’d think you were still around / i know better / but i still feel you all around”… ah well, it’s long enough as it is
[background: this was written in response to an @intothecast bonus episode about Majora's Mask, which i highly recommend!]
the isolation, the moodiness, it’s a covid lockdown album and that atmosphere translates weirdly well to majora. more than that, though, it’s the focus on observation and the narrator in the role of the observer- this is the album where swift shifted to writing about fictional characters, historical figures, and the like, and casts herself as an observer mapping these interweaving lives, kind of like how the player/link is put in the role of observer in clocktown, watching how it’s residents lives intersect and move around each other. taylor doesn’t just write about these characters from a third person POV, however, but embodies them to write from their perspectives, just as link embodies characters through the masks, experiencing their different realities as something of a vessel.
folklore is also an album with an underlying sense of grief and loss, and some of its tracks remind me a lot of the conversations brendan and stephen were having during the episode. the song seven - where taylor recalls how as a child, she believed her friend’s house was haunted because it was the only way her child-mind could understand the reality of an abusive household - reminded me of the discussions of the “aliens” possibly being romani’s way of understanding bandit attacks, or whether the little girl with the gibdo father was an allegory for losing a parent to their own grief.
finally, the conversations about link’s own psyche and trauma after ocarina have echoes in some of the lyrics on the album - “i can go anywhere i want, just not home”, for instance, or “you dream of some epiphany / just a single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you’ve seen”.
