Taylor deftly shifts styles, adapting well to the insistent pulse of Martin, easing into a shimmering melancholy reminiscent of Mazzy Star (“Sad Beautiful Tragic”) and coolly riding a chilly new wave pulse (“The Lucky One”). Red isn’t sequenced like a proper album, it’s a buffet, offering every kind of sound or identity a Swift fan could possibly want. Naturally, in order to accomplish this transition from country ing nue to pop star, Swift takes her country bona fides for granted, ignoring Nashville conventions as she rushes to collaborate with Britney Spears hitmaker Max Martin and Snow Patrol’s Gary Lightbody.
Uneven as it is - and it is, running just a shade too long as it sprints along in its quest to be everything to everyone - Red accomplishes this goal with ease, establishing Taylor Swift as perhaps the only genuine cross-platform superstar of her time. She uses both when it suits her, as any real pop star would - and if her 2012 album Red intends to do anything, it’s to prove Taylor is a genuine superstar, the kind who transcends genre, the kind who can be referred to by a single name. Which isn’t to say she’s without affectation or that she avoids artifice. Alone among her peers, Taylor Swift appears genuine.
