At some point over the last few days, you’ve entertained the idea of purchasing Taylor Swift’s 1989 album. Hell, maybe you even did—or merely purchased just one "iTune" off it to be thrifty and ironic at the same time (given recent events). It’s a gesture that many would have shamefully done prior to Taylor penning her "To Apple, Love Taylor" open letter over the weekend, explaining why she wouldn’t be adding her fifth studio album 1989 to Apple Music. In her letter, Taylor challenged Apple for creating a business model that would prevent artists from making any money off their music during Apple’s free three-month trial period. It’s one of those things that listeners tend to overlook in the interest of the word "free." If they’re not Googling "1989.zip" to find some sketchy Zippyshare download link, then they can listen with a clear conscience. Plus, streaming has already eliminated the tangibility of music, so no MP3s no problem. And a reputable monopoly like Apple is saying it’s perfectly fine, so…case closed.
Tay-Tay kicked down that fourth wall like a scene from her "Bad Blood" remix video to show the world that wasn’t the case. She explained that even writers and producers wouldn’t be paid, called Apple "historically progressive and generous," and then made the boldest statement: "This is not about me." Newsflash: Taylor Swift is very rich; she alludes to it in her letter ("Thankfully I am on my fifth album and can support myself, my band, crew, and entire management team by playing live shows"). Her argument here was in defense of the have-not singer/songwriters who won’t be paid for three months, a crucial time frame for anyone looking to recoup anything from their debt-inducing music. Taylor described the artists and their teams like they’re working in coalmines, braving black lungs in the name of making their opuses. "Tirelessly" was used somewhere. She sealed her womanifesto with "We don’t ask you for free iPhones. Please don’t ask us to provide you with our music for no compensation." The line has since become an Internet quotable.
In less than 24 hours Apple retracted their previous statements about the three-month plan. Apple’s Senior Vice President of Internet Software and Services Eddy Cue spoke about Taylor to Apple’s CEO Tim Cook. Cue had the honor of sharing with his 79.5K Twitter followers the news: "#AppleMusic will pay artists for streaming, even during customer’s free trial period," adding, "We hear you @taylorswift13 and indie artists. Love, Apple." Taylor addressed her congregation accordingly: "They listened to us." Us. Taylor Swift is now "us." Think pieces have already been resurrected in her honor, cyber-confetti everywhere, and Entrepreneurreferred to her as the "most powerful person in tech." How the hell did this happen?
Put yourself back into Anti-Taylor mode for just a second. Couldn’t you just picture her on her iPhone 6S reading the news about Apple Music’s free business model? Her O-face, followed by the cupping hands motion, you know the face. It’s that same face she makes when she wins every award at every award show ceremony in every country and acts like she can’t comprehend it. She "literally can’t even." That whole scenario probably still happened, you know. Does it matter now?
Taylor Swift is an interesting case study in the evolution of a pop star. She started out in country music at 16—endearing to rednecks, annoying to everyone else. By her third studio album, 2010’s Speak Now, she started inching closer toward standard Pop music. She was almost there before, as her colossal "Love Story" (off 2008’s Fearless) was one of those country songs by artists who really want to say "Please get me the hell out of country music already." Call it Carrie Underwood Pop. "Love Story" proved Swift had star power, but was also one hell of a songwriter. It also proved she was capable of being bullied—as Taylor Swift won Best Female Video for the A-side track "You Belong With Me" at the 2009 MTV VMAs, birthing Kanye West’s now-famous "I’mma let you finish" speech.
By 2012’s Red, there was no turning back. Taylor Swift was a bonafide pop star, with her growing army of Swifties in tow. 2013 was a pivotal year. Swift was superstar-status, and so the hating began. She and One Direction’s Harry Styles broke up that year, igniting the "Taylor only dates boys to break up with them for song fodder" thing. Any time she awkwardly audience-danced at concerts or performed live at award shows, she was called out. The mere mention of her name elicited eyerolls, especially during her monologue in the middle of the "We are never ever ever ever getting back together" song. Still, she had legions of fans she’d cultivated who were staying true.
Last year’s 1989 was Taylor’s self-proclaimed submersion into full-blown pop. It cracked the million mark in sales (1.287 million to be exact) in its first week, breaking all sorts of records (old hat for someone who broke Elvis’ record for simultaneously charting singles and albums at the ripe age of 16), and ripening as a target for our indignation.
Since the beginning of 2015, the hatred toward Taylor Swift seems to be moving counterclockwise. She started hanging out with Jay Z and Kanye West, leading to her first G-move in streaming service land, when she pulled her music off Spotify because of their low artist profits and migrated to Jay Z’s Tidal. Then the frenemies thing happened with Katy Perry, inspiring her "Bad Blood" remix video with (surprise!) Kendrick Lamar and every cool girl of 2015. Her Regina George-style stance against Perry was slammed by some but hailed by others, so this open letter had the propensity to be a huge success or phenomenal fail. It proved to be the former.
Instead of viewing her letter as yet another battle cry from a pop singer for the 1%, demanding more millions (like her Spotify move was perceived), this was seen as an earnest request to let the starving artists live. For whatever reason, Taylor was previously viewed as disingenuous, but the reality is, Taylor Swift has never not championed for the underdog.
Last Christmas she sat on her floor and wrapped gifts for her fans and mailed them out one by one. She wrote Valentine’s Day cards, serenaded kids with cancer, visited fans in the hospital, took them to lunch, handed out pizza to fans waiting for her shows, donated books to libraries, money to cancer organizations, music organizations, relief funds, you name it. She’s an ambassador for UNICEF, and even responds to fans on social media. So in what part of Taylor Swift’s near-decade long career of music and philanthropy would an open letter defending indie artists be any surprise at all? We clearly weren’t paying attention. And who is "we" you ask? Well, you know who you are.