We left off Part 2 at the end of the anger playlist tracks, so we’ll be picking up in Part 3 with the bargaining playlist tracks. Before we do, in case you have not read Part 1, that’s where you’ll find 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. 

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. Similarly, I’ll use “he” for references to romantic partners. Please read Part 1 if you’re interested in my reasoning. 

Bargaining (“Am I Allowed to Cry?”)

Bargaining is characterized by questions, trade-offs, and promises. The if onlys and the what ifs; the negotiations we have with ourselves, others, the universe, or perhaps a higher power. In this phase, we struggle to face the vulnerability and pain of what actually is, so we intellectualize and consider what we’d be willing to give up or exchange in order to prevent or fix what’s going to happen or already did–to make it go away or not occur at all, to alleviate the guilt and regret, to save ourselves from the pain. In some cases, whether we’re aware of it or not, bargaining serves a similar purpose as denial in terms of avoiding the reality of one’s circumstances. The primary difference is that denial is a state of numbness and disbelief, whereas bargaining is wishing for miracles and seeking some kind of solution to alleviate the guilt and pain, and to resume a sense of control and hope. There’s a lot of rumination, playing the possibilities out over and over again, reflecting on what could be different in the future if changes are made now, or what might have been different if only you’d had the clarity of hindsight when you were in a position to change things. In “A Message From Taylor” that opens the playlist, Taylor describes the tracks from the perspective of bargaining:

“The songs that I’ve written when I was in the bargaining stage. Times when, you know, you’re trying to make deals with yourself or someone that you care about. You’re trying to make things better, you’re oftentimes feeling really desperate because oftentimes, we have a sort of gut intuition that tells us things are not gonna go the way we hope, which makes us more desperate, which makes us bargain more.”

Like Taylor’s anger playlist, the song that includes the bargaining playlist title lyrics, “Guilty As Sin?,” is presented on this playlist. It’s also quite fitting that the name of the song and the name of the playlist itself, “Am I Allowed to Cry?,” are both themselves questions, further highlighting their representation of the bargaining stage. She’s not sure if she’s guilty as sin, and she’s apparently not sure if she’s allowed to cry. She’s grappling with herself, attempting to determine whether her thoughts and emotional expressions are suitable, moral, fair–or, as she shared in her documentary, Miss Americana, whether they reflect the “good girl” she thinks she needs to be in order to be loved and accepted. The Apple Music playlist description further illuminates the songwriting challenge posed by illustrating bargaining. It introduces the stage as “where we often negotiate - asking questions of the universe and ourselves in an attempt to feel better. Kind of a complicated feeling to capture in song…” Complicated as it may be, Taylor was up for the challenge. Let’s look at the TTPD bargaining tracks, in a bit more depth again because there are only four tracks to explore.  

“The Albatross”

Like “Cassandra,” interpretation of “The Albatross” is aided by first doing a quick background on the title and its meaning. The symbolic nature of the albatross has its roots, at least as far as I know, in Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (1798). In the poem, the albatross (a large oceanic bird) is initially viewed as a sign of good fortune until the mariner shoots him down. His crewmates eventually determine that the murder of the albatross cursed their ship and decide to punish him by forcing him to wear the albatross around his neck. Basically, the albatross represents good fortune until you harm it, at which point, it becomes an inescapable burden symbolic of guilt and regret. The connection between an artist and an albatross is further cemented in another poem, “The Albatross” (1859) by Charles Baudelaire that compares the mistreatment of the albatross to the mistreatment of poets and, by extension, other artists. It’s also likely not a coincidence that Fleetwood Mac have a guitar-based instrumental song named “Albatross” and that Stevie Nicks wrote a poem for TTPD’s album prologue. 

The song begins with “Wise men once said ‘wild winds are death to the candle.’” Right off the bat, the listener can justifiably extrapolate that these “wise men” believe that “wild” women (particularly, artistic ones) can blow out a man’s fire. That is to say that men should be cautious about the destructive nature of an unruly woman. Then, soon after, stated directly: “she’s the albatross, she is here to destroy you.” People have “tried to warn you about me” because “‘one bad seed kills the garden.’” She brings bad fortune – “you’re in terrible danger.” While the narrator is not physically injured, she is metaphorically attacked by critics, both professional and otherwise. This aligns with Taylor’s history as someone who has been maligned in gossip as the “temptress” who dates, discards, and then airs the dirty laundry of too many men. Like the albatross, they see her as a bad omen rather than recognizing that she’s simply expressing her truth in reaction to being shot down. 

The one-sided description of the narrator who brings harm and destruction shifts towards the end when she shares how she “spread her wings like a parachute…swept in at the rescue.” The person she’s with recognizes that she’s been mischaracterized, so now “the devil that you know looks now more like an angel.” She brings good fortune, but despite all she has to offer, there’s only so much she can do to protect her partner. Life with her is not easy, and she can’t stop the fact that “Wise men once read fake news and they believed it.” Blame is pointed at the albatross, but it’s the killing of the innocent creature that cursed those sailors. 

This song reckons with the question of what the narrator can offer to offset the drawbacks of being with her. Thematically, it’s reminiscent of two other tracks listed on the bargaining playlist: Lover’s “The Archer” (“‘cause all of my enemies started out friends…Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?”) and folklore’s “peace” (“the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me, but I’m a fire, and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm.”). The anxiety of grappling with how much you want it to work and how much you’re willing to give, while recognizing the strength of the many forces fighting against it. A desperate attempt to convince him that despite what he hears and sees about her, she’s “been there too” and “none of it matters,” and similarly, to convince herself that the relationship is still viable. She’s bargaining with herself and her partner. What will it take to feel secure with me? Can I do it? Will it be enough?

“The Prophecy”

“The Prophecy” is situated on the album tracklist immediately before “Cassandra,” giving the listener an introduction to the concept of prophecies before diving into the curse of the gift of prophecy that no one believes when you warn them. While both tracks consider the role of prophecy, they have different underlying themes. “The Prophecy” is focused on the narrator's relationship with her own story, essentially reckoning with fate as she bargains for the life she dreams of having one day, but is simultaneously terrified she never will. Her desperate quest for relational security–to finally find her happily ever after with the person she’s meant to share her life with; someone who she knows wants her, through and through. 

The song begins with alerting the listener that she’s recently realized that although she thought she had “caught lightning in a bottle…it’s gone again.” Another relationship full of high hopes that comes crashing down. Next, she shares that “I got cursed like Eve got bitten,” which plays on the Adam and Eve biblical story of original sin. The interesting part of this lyric is that Eve was not cursed nor was she bitten; instead, she’s the one who took the bite of the apple. The next line, “Oh, was it punishment?” further suggests that the narrator is bargaining with her perceived responsibility for her destiny of failed relationships, perhaps due to her history of prioritization of professional success (as we know from Midnights’ “Midnight Rain,” she chose the “pain” of “making my own name, chasing that fame” over a “comfortable” life). So, she stays busy to keep her mind off of it, to “pad around when I get home” rather than sink into loneliness or regret. 

On the one hand, she acknowledges her resilience in “a lesser woman would’ve lost hope,” but a moment later, criticizes herself by saying “a greater woman wouldn’t beg,” leading into her desperate plea “on my knees” for “someone who wants my company.” She knows she can’t “change the prophecy” but nonetheless wishes she could trade her financial success for a partner who loves her and wants to be with her. Like Sleeping Beauty, she feels stuck waiting for true love to rescue her, feeling like “fools in a fable” as her reality “was sinking in.” Perhaps, again, she is the curse whose “poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand” ultimately infiltrates every romantic relationship. 

She begs, “Who do I have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?” In doing so, she describes the exhausting desperation: “I sound like an infant, feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen.” She has very little left to give; crying like a newborn as “I howl like a wolf at the moon.” She recognizes that she looks “unstable gathered with a coven ‘round a sorceress’s table” but she simply cannot muster the faith she needs because “even statues crumble if they’re made to wait.” Returning to the theme of cursing herself by way of prioritizing her career, she says: “I’m so afraid I sealed my fate. No sign of soulmates. I’m just a paperweight in shades of greige, spending my last coin so someone will tell me it’ll be ok.” She’s just holding down the papers, lifeless, desperately looking for reassurance that it’ll “once be me.” In terms of bargaining, she’s questioning what went wrong, what sacrifices she could have or could still make in return, who she could talk to, what deals could be made in order to “redo the prophecy”–to finally have the love she’s seeking.

“Guilty As Sin?”

“Guilty As Sin?” illustrates the state of bargaining with where the line of innocent versus sin is and/or should be drawn. Is it true that “‘There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk”? That is, does having bad thoughts make someone a bad person? Psychologically, there’s a lot of value in looking at thoughts and behaviors differently. We don’t get to choose our thoughts, but we do get to decide how to respond to them. And, is it really only a thought when “my bed sheets are ablaze. I’ve screamed his name, buildin’ up like waves crashin’ over my grave”? There’s certainly an element of behavior even though they’ve never been physically intimate together. The narrator expresses that her “boredom’s bone-deep.” “This cage was once just fine,” but now she’s fantasizing about someone else. Is the cage the perceived prison of her current relationship or the shackles of abiding by society’s norms and expectations, or both? 

She shares about her dreams of “crackin’ locks” and “throwin’ my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks” to escape her mental cage, but ultimately, “recalling things we never did, messy top-lip kiss” and longing “for our trysts without ever touchin’ his skin” occupies her thoughts. She questions whether those “visions” make her “bad or mad or wise?” Is there something really there worth pursuing, or is she just emotionally cheating and playing with fire? What does this mean about her? About her current relationship? About the potential for a new one? In the next verse, she expresses her need to keep “these longings locked in lowercase, inside a vault” (reputation vault perhaps?), but also wonders, if all of this is simply “make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?” For now, the intimate nature of this relationship only exists in her mind, but at the same time, it feels real, which suggests some degree of reciprocity from the other person. She muses, “without ever touchin’ his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?” 

In the bridge, she goes on to question what would happen if she rolled “the stone away,” possibly another twist of a biblical story used as a metaphoric reference to her current relationship and/or sense of imprisonment. On some level, she feels she might as well do what she wants because society is “gonna crucify me anyway.” And what do these strangers know? Should she be putting stock into the views of people who only want “long-suffering propriety…from me”? Is she “allowed to cry” when she reflects on “how you’ve haunted me so stunningly” leading to her wanting to choose “you and me religiously”? Briefly, this also appears to serve as a callback to folklore’s “cardigan”–“I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs.” If “the way you hold me is actually what’s holy,” perhaps it’s worth pursuing in order to escape how much “I Hate It Here” by bringing these dreams to fruition despite the “hedge maze” of chaos it’ll stir. She’s willing to risk her reputation again if it means having the fantasy become real. That’s a trade-off she’s willing to make to have what she wants. But, again, is it enough, and will he follow suit?

“The Tortured Poets Department”

The titular song, “The Tortured Poets Department,” describes a romantic relationship with someone who perhaps takes himself too seriously and whose contradictory hot and cold relational behaviors create confusion, doubt, and anxiety. The song begins with the narrator telling the listener that he “left his typewriter at my apartment straight from the tortured poets department.” Of course, typewriters play a significant role in the thematic motif of the album, but at the same time, she pokes fun by thinking to herself “some things I never say like, ‘Who uses typewriters anyway?’” Why does she keep this thought private? It may be because it’s an unfair judgment when she’s creating an album that incorporates it, or because he’s “in self-sabotage mode throwing spikes down on the road.” Perhaps he’s not in the mental space to find her comment humorous, or perhaps, she doesn’t have the relational security she needs to say what she’s really thinking. To actually be herself. With that said, she proceeds in the chorus to push back when she “laughed in your face and said ‘You’re not Dylan Thoman, I’m not Patti Smith. This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots.” She reminds him to take himself and them less seriously. They are not iconic poets and their relationship is not legendary. The wording is reminiscent of one of Taylor’s oldest songs, “White Horse,” from Fearless (“I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale”). She wants this relationship to be grounded in reality. 

She recognizes his emotional turmoil–that he has a tendency to “awaken with dread, pounding nails in your head” despite having fallen asleep with her scratching his head “like a tattooed golden retriever.” There’s closeness and there’s a sense that he’s sweet and loyal. And she’s not thrown off course by his self-sabotaging behaviors. She’s “seen this episode and still loved the show” and she’s “read this one where you come undone.” Seeing these bad episodes and times you’ve come undone has not stopped her from having “chose this cyclone with you.” She’s prepared for the backlash and the hard times. She believes they can get through it, but does he? She wants him to consider who else “decodes you,” “gonna troll you,” “gonna know you,” and is “gonna hold you like me.” Her answer: “Nobody.” No one will know him on the level she does, and possibly, from her perspective, no one else would stay for the next episode. The question remains, is it enough? Can this person who “taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else” (from folklore’s “illicit affairs”) actually stick around if I decode him and hold him better than everyone else? 

Prior to the bridge, the listener may question if he’s even invested in the relationship. She, too, recognizes that there are red flags leading her to “sometimes…wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me.” Her anxiety is piqued until she reassures herself about his deep desire for her and seemingly sincere intention to be with her in what is arguably the most dramatic illustration of a dysfunctional relationship and insecure attachment on the entire album: “But you told Lucy you’d kill yourself if I ever leave, and I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen. Everyone we know understands why it’s meant to be. Cause we’re crazy.” And, for the first time, she asks: “So tell me, who else is gonna know me?” Now, she’s demonstrating that she also worries that no one will understand her as well as he has either. They’ve told their friends that they need each other, so it must be true. From her perspective, they’re destined to be together because they’re both unhealthy in similar ways, which allows them to see each other more fully.

Moments later, though, the narrator describes the manipulative behavior of someone who acts serious about her, but clearly not enough for her to stop asking about who will know him and hold him like her. Those questions reflect the bargaining nature of this track. Despite the fact that “at dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on, and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding,” she’s still not sure that he’s in and continues to attempt to convince him that she’s the best partner he can have. Who else will know him as deeply and intimately as she does? Who else will hold him like she does? Ultimately, he leaves the typewriter at her apartment, a reminder of what they had, what they shared, and what they lost. In light of the finality of the ending, the song is perfectly positioned as the last TTPD track on the bargaining playlist, ushering in the next stage: depression.  

We’ve reached the end of Part 3 of this blog. Click here for Part 4 where I’ll pick up with the next playlist: depression.