In Part 1 of this series, I provided an overview of the Kübler-Ross model of grief, its pros and cons, and the way in which it was utilized as a framework for Taylor Swift to create five heartbreak playlists for Apple Music, starting with denial, and the eight tracks listed on it, which are each explored through the lens of that first stage. If you haven’t already, I encourage you to read it before proceeding with Part 2. 

In case you don’t, a quick review of the fine print. From here forward, I will use “her” to refer to the narrator of each song rather than Taylor herself, unless otherwise mentioned (which I do more often for the tracks discussed in this part). Similarly, I’ll use “he” for references to romantic partners. Please read Part 1 if you’re interested in my reasoning. 

Anger (“You Don’t Get to Tell Me About Sad”)

Anger is a manifestation of internal pain that is generally characterized by antagonism directed at oneself and/or someone else. Insofar as heartbreak is concerned, it may involve a sense of resentment, injustice, or betrayal. When it’s other-directed, it can involve fantasies of retaliation (if not, actual revenge), but when directed at oneself, the depth of self-loathing, perceived inadequacy, and unfair self-blame, shame, and guilt can lead to engagement in behaviors that people eventually regret once their hopefully short-term view of themselves as not worth protecting recalibrates. 

Anger can also be extremely uncomfortable, especially for women who have been socialized towards sadness and other so-called “appropriate” emotional states. For others, particularly those who are comfortable with anger, it can serve as a bodyguard or suit of armor, protecting against the less comfortable emotions, like the vulnerability of sadness. Either way, anger is a normal emotion and a full life is typically going to include it, at least at times. What is important is how anger is expressed - when sublimated effectively, for example, through songwriting, poetry, or sports, it’s perfectly healthy (it doesn’t have to be pretty, either; punching a pillow and screaming into the void is fair game). In “A Message From Taylor” that opens the playlist, Taylor shares how this works for her first-hand:

“These songs all have one thing in common. I wrote them while feeling anger. Over the years, I’ve learned that anger can manifest itself in a lot of different ways. But the healthiest way that it manifests itself in my life is when I can write a song about it and then, oftentimes that helps me get past it.”

Unlike Taylor’s denial playlist, the song that includes the playlist title lyrics, “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”, is listed here. Listening to these tracks highlights another interesting aspect of anger, which is that it’s such a powerful expression of universal emotion that it is one of the easiest for people to identify without words. This certainly holds true for the TTPD tracks. If you listen to the songs as though the lyrics were in a foreign language, the emotion still powerfully comes through. 

Another interesting aspect of this playlist is that it includes all three of the First Draft Phone Memo tracks that Taylor released following TTPD: “Cassandra,” “The Black Dog,” and “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”, which accounts for three of the four TTPD songs listed on the anger playlist. One possible interpretation is that anger prompted Taylor to feel the need to express her thoughts and feelings in those moments rather than waiting for co-writing sessions with Jack or Aaron. Although she did collaborate on “Cassandra” with Aaron, the other two are entirely self-written, which supports this theory to some extent. Since there are only four tracks listed on this playlist, and because they tap into more complicated elements of Taylor’s history and aspects of heartbreak that extend beyond relationships, I’ll go into more depth for each of these songs. 

The Apple Music playlist description sums up what her fans already know: “it’s fair to say that some of her best and most beloved songs boast an edge. You’ll find that in abundance here.” With that said, let’s explore the four TTPD anger tracks. 

“Cassandra”

As stated above, a few TTPD tracks were released as First Draft Phone Memos. Before she sings “Cassandra,” Taylor introduces it by saying: “it’s called that ‘cause…in Greek mythology, Cassandra was brought on by Apollo to always warn people of impending doom, but she was cursed to never be listened to.” Without diving too deep in Greek mythology, it also seems fitting to note that Apollo cursed Cassandra because she refused his romantic advances. Furthermore, the name itself is translated to “she who entangles men.” The social and cultural overlap between Cassandra and Taylor are certainly notable. Centuries apart, but both are nonetheless subjected to rage and retaliation in response to a female’s rejection and courageous resistance against abiding by restrictive and patronizing female social norms (a theme she’s explored previously, including on folklore: “no one likes a mad woman, you made her like that”). In the First Draft version compared to the album, Taylor even says “I” instead of “she” – “they killed Cassandra first ‘cause I/she feared the worst and tried to tell the town.” In the First Draft, she’s even more directly alerting the listener to the autobiographical parallels between them. 

The track begins in her “new house placing daydreams” when she gets distracted by a flashback of traumatic recollection that this was the very place where she “got the call” and “where I was when I lost it all.” In general, this call references the point in time when the heartbreaking loss is first experienced or learned about. For Taylor, specifically, if you are unaware, you might consider looking up her phone call with Kanye West that was maliciously edited and inaccurately leaked by Kim Kardashian (prompting Taylor’s extended hiatus culminating in the release of reputation and its snake motif) and her history with Scott Borchetta/Big Machine Records who sold her six album masters behind her back to Scooter Braun, someone who had bullied her for years, and without first giving her the opportunity to buy them herself (prompting her decision to re-record all six albums she made at that label, of which reputation was the last and is yet to be released). She sings, “They say, ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you aware.’ What happens if it becomes who you are?” Both events served as such significant catalysts for heartbreak that she feels they transformed her - loss of her reputation, her life’s work and artistry, her sense of trust and safety in others, her hope for her future career.

“Cassandra” also highlights the sociocultural dynamics of the media and those who consume it: “When it’s ‘Burn the bitch,’ they’re shrieking. When the truth comes out, it’s quiet.” A cutting commentary on the fact that even in modern times, we’re still “burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one” (another quick shoutout to reputation). Media is drama fuel. The truth is often less sexy and compelling than the rumors formed from soundbites. She goes on to describe the lack of support and the hypocrisy from those involved. “They all said nothin’. Blood’s thick, but nothin’ like a payroll.” This blood connection could be literal (Kardashian family business extended via marriage to Kanye), or it could be a metaphorical reference to music labels/management (Borchetta/Big Machine Records relationship with her; Braun and his roster of celebrities before they each dumped him). These people “set my life in flames” and “filled my cell with snakes,” but “no one heard” because they weren’t listening and they didn’t care. When the truth came out, it was met with silence. Her warnings were dismissed and the eventual veracity of her claims were ignored. The anger from the initial injustices of betrayal and mischaracterization via false narratives are further amplified over time by those involved, but also by the media, her musical peers, and society. Such is the anger that stems from the heartbreak of being targeted, manipulated, ridiculed, misunderstood, and silenced. 

“The Black Dog”

“The Black Dog” is one of five songs on the album that is entirely self-written by Taylor (the others are “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys,” “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me,” “The Manuscript,” and “Peter,” the only of the 31 album tracks that is not listed on one of the heartbreak playlists). Interestingly, in the First Draft Voice Memo for this track, Taylor introduces the title as “Old Habits Die Screaming.” That line remains in lyrical form in this song (and as the title of the depression playlist, which is apropos considering that the term “black dog” is used metaphorically to signify depression), but was replaced as the title of this track with the location in which the song is set: the bar, The Black Dog. 

The song begins by orienting the listener to the events that have recently taken place. The narrator is “someone who, until recent events, you shared your secrets with and your location.” They were close and intimate. But he “forgot to turn it off” so she painfully, as someone who moves “through the world with the heartbroken,” watches his location, and laments what it means that he could have forgotten. He’s so present in her mind, she doesn’t understand “how you don’t miss me.” She’s upset that she “may never open up the way I did for you,” but more so than that, she’s angry that “you said I needed a brave man, then proceeded to play him, until I believed it too.” She feels played, betrayed, discarded, and confused. And if you didn’t know it from the lyrics alone, you would certainly feel it as she screams “old habits die screaming” multiple times throughout the song, until the last time, when she clearly doesn’t have the energy to scream anymore and the song ends in an exasperated whisper. 

While there’s anger from hurt, there’s likely also frustration from wanting someone who has treated her so poorly and who does not seem to even care about her enough to protect her from seeing him go to a bar with someone else. After “six weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke” (reminiscent of “just because you’re clean, don’t mean you don’t miss it” from 1989) despite having asked immediately beforehand in the song: “Do you hate me? Was it hazing? For a cruel fraternity I pledged.” And then, immediately afterward: “Were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?” (notably, present rather than past tense with “are you” in the First Draft). The anger that arises from the conflict of missing someone deeply despite their actions leading to comparisons with cruel fraternities and being the butt of their jokes. 

As the anger sets in through the song, the lyrics shift in two meaningful ways. Earlier in the song, the narrator is questioning “how you don’t miss me in The Black Dog,” but towards the end of the song, in the same cadence, says “And I hope it’s shitty in The Black Dog.” Also, earlier in the song, the narrator references The Starting Line coming on at the bar and “you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song that was intertwined in the magic fabric of our dreaming.” Later, the exact same lyrics, except “the tragic fabric of our dreaming” (also notably, “magic” is repeated the second time in the First Draft, so perhaps she was not ready at that point to acknowledge its tragic downfall). ““Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes” because she wants to rid herself of him completely–she loathes any memory of him, and to at least some extent, loathes herself too. Unlike in the denial tracks and even the First Draft, the narrator expresses her anger that the relationship is, in fact, over, and that it never should have been. Angry that she invited that hurt into her life, that she allowed herself to fall so hard for another wrong person, and that, once again, she’ll be mocked and blamed for it. 

“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”

Like “Cassandra,” “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” refers to anger unrelated to the loss associated with romantic heartbreak. Despite the criticism to the contrary, not every Taylor Swift song is about men (in actuality, many are not). Since the anger expressed in this track pertains to experiences that are more specific to Taylor (not to say that there aren’t universal elements, as well), I’ll approach this track similarly to “Cassandra” by touching on both the Taylor-specific elements and also the generalizable ones. Unlike “Cassandra” and “The Black Dog,” the First Draft Phone Memo introduction of this track only states the title, which remains the same as the album. Lyric-wise, there’s one notable shift from “you don’t get to tell me that I’m bad” to “you don’t get to me you feel bad” on the final album version. They can tell her she’s bad, but she’s not interested in hearing that they feel bad now. It’s too late. The harm has been done. For more context, the following is Taylor’s Amazon Music Track by Track introduction to this song:

“Being in the public eye since I was a young teenager, there’s a lot that that does to your perception of the world, your perception of yourself. The idea that the world has this sense of ownership and not just a right, but they feel they have a responsibility to judge you, to critique you, and to weigh in. And that can really toy with you. “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me” was a song I wrote alone, sitting at the piano in one of those moments where I felt bitter about just all the things we do to our artists as a society and as a culture…Those are some ways that I feel sometimes when I’m not able to right the ship and cope with my normal coping mechanisms, so this song was just a very, very true way that I feel sometimes. And it’s always good when you can be honest about those things.” 

The song begins with reminding the listener that “my bare hands paved their paths,” suggesting that Taylor’s hard work got her to where she is, but also that her efforts reverberated out to facilitate other people’s success too. She’s seemingly energized and fueled by the hate and the failed attempts at suppressing her earned rise to the top. Rather than relinquishing her fight by allowing them to take her down, “nothing makes me feel more alive, so I leap through the gallows and I levitate down your street.” They tried to hang her, but she not only escapes the gallows, she floats by you as though she has the magical powers of a witch, transforming one of the many ridiculous narratives regarding her success. She then asks, “Who’s afraid of little old me?” in a piercing tone that lends itself to the answer she shares in the next line: “you should be.” 

Next, she provides insight into the events that led her here, sharing that “the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed, at all costs, keep your good name.” Despite all the pain and mistreatment (again, likely at the hands of Scott Borchetta et al.), she’s a caged wild animal who cannot share her truth or defend herself. “I was tame, I was gentle ‘til the circus life made me mean. ‘Don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth.’” Her natural kindness was beaten out of her, but to prevent any retaliation, they removed her teeth. This metaphor has many layers: the pain of removing teeth in the first place; the fact that you don’t feel like yourself without them; that you’re forever changed and dehumanized; that like a circus animal, she’s been tamed, and in the process maimed; and that even if she escaped, she couldn’t defend herself. For Taylor, her lack of teeth reflect her need to protect her “good name,” but also, likely refer to a number of NDAs she signed that legally prevent her from being more transparent and honest. She wants to “snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me,” but she knows she can’t. It’s no wonder she felt bitter.

Later on in the song, she emphasizes the traumatic nature of her upbringing in the musical circus by saying “you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.” Just like in “mad woman” (folklore) described briefly in “Cassandra,” these people hurt her and then criticized and derided her for acting like a person who’s been hurt: “You caged me and then you called me crazy. I am what I am ‘cause you trained me.” Gaslighting at its finest. She asks, “Is it a wonder I broke? Let’s hear one more joke. Then we could all just laugh until I cry.” (a potential callback to the lyrics “the jokes weren’t funny, I took the money” from Midnights’ “You’re on Your Own, Kid”).

Now, in order to regain control of her art and life’s work, she’s re-recording her albums “so all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs.” She’s literally opening up the attic of her mind, going back to every event and theme that inspired each song on those six albums, dredging up every traumatic experience so that she can get back into the mindset she needs to encapsulate those stories through song again. In the meantime, she continues to face the rumors that minimize her efforts and talents – that she’s “always drunk on my own tears,” that she’ll “sue you if you step on my lawn,” that she’s “fearsome…wretched and…wrong,” that she puts “narcotics into all of my songs.” There must be a reason “why you’re still singing’ along” besides raw talent painstakingly cultivated into mastery. The anger of having the world misinterpret and invalidate your success, discredit you, cause harm and then mock the response, all while you sit idly by, knowing the truth, but being silenced from sharing it. 

“The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived”

The final anger track, “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” is a scathing summary of a relationship gone wrong that echoes the man described in “The Black Dog” who played the role of a brave man just long enough for her to believe it. Here, the anger arises from the heartbreak of losing someone you built a life with in your head. The hopes and dreams, the plans for the future, the time that feels wasted, the options that aren’t explored in the meantime, all to culminate in asking, “Was any of it true? Gazing at me starry-eyed” after being “ghosted” by him. The narrator is so surprised by how it ends that she feels she may never have known him in the first place and is left wondering if “rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.” Again, to demonstrate her movement from denial to anger, she doesn’t “even want you back” nor does she “miss what we had.” Now, she just wants answers. Why did this person show her off “in public” only to “treat her like an also-ran” once his “queen had come” (that is, once he had her)?

She goes on to share the many questions lingering in her mind: “Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed? Were you writin’ a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy? In fifty years, will all this be declassified? And you’ll confess why you did it.” She can’t fathom that there isn’t an underlying explanation for the harms he caused, for the lies he told, for the dreams he sold and then snatched away as soon as she bit. Perhaps it simply “wasn’t sexy once it wasn’t forbidden” – harkening back to the boy who breaks his favorite toys, who chases something fun and new and then loses interest once he has it. This is echoed a few lines later by “you said normal girls were boring, but you were gone by the morning.” He said what he needed to say, what he knew she wanted to hear, but he did not mean it, or at least, he couldn’t keep the promises he made. After all, “you kicked out the stage lights, but you’re still performing.” 

She was so in love that she “would’ve died for your sins, instead, I just died inside.” She would have accepted the challenges of being with him, but was left to die alone, without explanation or closure. At the end of the day, “you are what you did” rather than the person she thought she knew. She was led on, manipulated, and ultimately, devastated. There’s anger for what she went through and for the lack of clarity, and there’s added insult to injury in that she knows he’ll skate by largely unaffected–“you deserve prison, but you won’t get time” and “you’ll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars.” This will not hurt him like it has hurt her; he’ll move on and she’ll suffer the consequences of their choices. She ends the song on a similarly angry note: “I’ll forget you, but I’ll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived.” All was not fair in love and war. There’s deep anger for how she was strung along, how she was ultimately rejected and ghosted, and how she was unable to move on unscathed.

We’ve reached the end of Part 2 of this blog. Click here for Part 3 where I pick up with the next playlist: bargaining.