Call me up again, just to break me like a promise — Taylor Swift’s second time in Manila

I graduated from college a few years ago, armed with a degree in AB Interdisciplinary Studies (Communication Arts and Creative Writing tracks) and a minor in sociology. For the minor, I did my thesis on local men’s magazines, the abstract of which I don’t remember.

What I do remember is writing two research papers that got A’s in my SA 101 class, the class I credit to really getting me into sociology. I wrote those two papers on Taylor Swift, then just a country star threatening to crossover to the mainstream with her second album “Fearless.” Struck by a New York Times article on her savvy with her public, I wrote a paper analyzing her public persona using the symbolic-interactionism perspective. “People act toward things based on the meaning those things have for them; and these meanings are derived from social interaction and modified through interpretation,” a quick Wikipedia-aided refresher course in sociology will tell you.

The second paper was a close analysis of her lyrics, and how they relate to the lyrics of her peers, who mostly talked about kissing girls (for fun) and liking it. “Those other girls, yeah, they’re beautiful,” she sings on Hey Stephen, “but would they write a song for you?” She was a teen star who didn’t boast sexual prowess; she traded on skill and smarts.

I was 21 then, writing about a blonde country star primarily known for being the chick Joe Jonas dumped on the cellphone. So I guess you could call me an early-adaptor Swiftie.

I was never into You Belong With Me or Love Story. I always found her songs about princesses and fairytales trite and unimaginative. What got me was always the effectiveness of her songwriting, which usually came forth in her album cuts.

She’s a sharp writer, able to zero in on the minute details that make heartbreaks hurts and the best moments joyful. On the song All Too Well, for example, she communicates the intimacy of a great lost love with the line, “We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light.”

On the song Dear John, her now infamous demolition of John Mayer, she gets the last word with the killer stanza: “I took your matches / Before fire could catch me / So don’t look now / I’m shining like fireworks / Over your sad empty town.” Predictably, John Mayer’s career took a nosedive after that.

It’s all the more impressive when you realize that she writes or co-writes, produces or co-produces every single one of her songs. And she’s been doing so since 17.

In his review of her third album “Speak Now,” Jonathan Keefe of Slant magazine wrote, “In terms of her ability to write an indelible melody, Swift rivals power-pop acts like Fountains of Wayne and Guster… (with a) unique knack for matching the overall tone of a melody to the broader themes of a song… Perhaps even more impressive, though, is her mastery of song structure. It isn’t just about writing a clever lyric or melodic figure to serve as a hook, though Swift certainly does both. Instead, it’s a matter of placing those hooks at exactly the right moment in a song and ensuring that the arrangement and production add just the right amount of punch.”

She’s Joni Mitchell without the insight of tragedy, Carly Simon without the sex, Carole King with an appetite for the spotlight—she’s pop music’s secret powerhouse.

Last Friday, Taylor Swift staged her second concert in Manila as part of The Red Tour. I had the privilege of being part of a backstage tour courtesy of Keds, the shoe brand, which partnered up Taylor for the international tour.

The tour began in Club Red, a tent in the backstage area that was, of course, illuminated with red light. With a bottle of Arrowhead mineral water in hand (they bring their own water) The Postal Service’s Such Great Heights playing, we took in the amenities of the lounge, which included crew favorites like chicken fingers with garlic sauce, marble potato stuffed with blue cheese and topped with bacon, empanidatas. Evidently, it’s good to be Red.

An early surprise came when Andrea Swift—Taylor’s mom—came down and gave the tour herself. She was very generous with her hugs and gracious with compliments. When you talk to the open-hearted Mrs. Swift, it’s easy to see where Taylor gets the personality that endears her to her fans. She began the tour by talking about the days that she would’ve preferred Taylor to become a horseback rider. It’s been 16 months since they started The Red Tour and while you can see that they’ve gotten a bit homesick, their dedication is unparalleled. “This is how Taylor says thank you,” Andrea says. “Because she wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for all of you.”

And she’s obviously very proud of her daughter. She talks about how Taylor is involved with every aspect of the show. “What you see is what Taylor wants you to see,” she says.

At the end of the backstage tour, we end up exchanging a hug and I decide to tell her that I once wrote two sociology papers on her daughter. She looks at me, confused. “Oh, that’s very… sweet,” she says. “Thank you.”

An hour later, Taylor Swift emerges onstage as a spotlit silhouette, highlighting her tall and slender physique and newly cropped bob. It seemed to announce a woman—suddenly commanding, without the curls that used to be synonymous to her name, and a surprising sexuality. She opens the show with State of Grace, her latest album’s opener, a track that bites a bit of U2’s early ‘90s sound and marries it with lovestruck lyrics like “So you were never a saint / And I’ve loved in shades of wrong / We learn to live with the pain / Mosaic of broken hearts.” It’s an effective opening gambit and a clear statement about where she sees herself now.

And when she was good, she was perfect. A solo set in the middle of the concert, for example—with Taylor backing herself on acoustic guitar—was a highlight, old favorites like Fearless and You Belong With Me providing ample fodder for sing-alongs. And when she plugged in her electric guitar for songs like Red? It didn’t seem too strange to remember that she once shared stage with a rock icon like Stevie Nicks.

When she tried to act like the other pop stars, though, she wasn’t as effective. While songs like 22 and I Knew You Were Trouble are sure winners with the crowd, her stilted dancing didn’t seem natural. She was still fun, of course, and the fans ate it up. But they also made an extraordinary talent seem ordinary.

Taylor Swift isn’t just any other pop star, after all. If she plays her cards right, she could be one of the era’s defining songwriters. And the set pieces, costume changes, awkward choreography? They just obscure that.

She was best when she played camp counselor. “I hope you know how rare it is and how much I mean it when I say, I fit in with you,” she says, at one point. “One thing I’ve learned about life is that it’s very rare to find people you belong with. If you can’t fit in, just do what I’ve done— just be you until you find the people you fit in with.” The crowd cheers, the kids cry, and then she breaks into Mean, her scathing admonishment of bullying. It’s Jesus at the temple.

For me though, the highlight of the concert was All Too Well. On her last album, it was the centerpiece, a breakup ballad for the ages and a clear indication of her growth as a songwriter. Onstage, on the 16th month of her tour, it was flesh and blood. She wasn’t trying to prove anything — she was just a girl on a piano, trying to sort through the wreckage. She was, to borrow from Jesus, the word made flesh.

Years from now, when the tweens have grown up with and she’s finally released from the jail teen pop stardom can sometimes be, she’ll realize that she doesn’t need the smoke machine and back-up dancers, that maybe she had everything she needed all along. For now though, she’s the most fun you’ll have without breaking curfew.