The suffix to Taylor Swift’s re-recording of her 2008 breakthrough album Fearless shouldn’t be dismissed as a footnote or an arbitrary artistic decision. With the master recordings of her first six albums sold along with her label, Big Machine, to manager Scooter Braun, Swift came up with a succinct solution to end this dispute. By re-recording her first six albums, and completely negating their original recordings, Fearless (Taylor’s Version) is less of an album than it is an act of crafty reclamation. And with her lockdown releases of folklore and evermore resulting in a newfound fandom and appreciation for Swift’s craft, it couldn’t have come at a better time. 

Fearless (Taylor’s Version) has a richer and warmer tone than the original recordings, with Swift’s vocals being obviously more mature, but the sugary thrill of blossoming adolescence is not dampened. The title track’s instrumentation with its warbling organ and bright mandolin riffs stays true to her country roots. With the mix providing this audible clarity, it brings a new lyrical clarity to her musings written on the cusp of womanhood.

By revisiting ‘Fifteen’, a tender ballad about experiencing heartbreak for the first time, Swift’s words pack in a more passionate punch with age. Hearing Swift tell her teenage self, and by extension, our own teenage selves, that “When all you wanted / Was to be wanted / Wish you could go back / And tell yourself what you know now”— it’s closer to an sonic inner child healing exercise than a pop song. Brimming with forgiveness, these truths were more difficult to reconcile with as an adolescent, but now thirteen years later, both Swift and her audience know better. As an artist who has been heralded for both her relatability and confessional music, whatever element of revenge or spite that comes with her tactful re-recording doesn’t gleam through in the process. 

This patience for comfort and growth is harboured in its following tracks. The giddy elation of ‘Love Story’’s melodrama or the endearing genius of ‘You Belong With Me’ now share this knowing that only comes with long-awaited reminiscing and hard earned retrospect. Swift’s exclamation that “This love is difficult / But it’s real” is euphoric but almost ironic in its delivery, the same could be applied to the sing-song jeer of “She wears high-heels / I wear sneakers” — but there’s nothing mean-spirited about it. 

Swift knows that she can’t replicate the emotional intensity that only an eighteen-year-old girl can experience, but what she can do is provide herself and her listeners a space to reflect without judgement. With ‘Breathe’’s closing refrain of “I’m sorry” oscillating between herself and guest vocalist Colbie Cabillat, it couldn’t frame this perspective any more overtly. By providing the forgiveness that was never extended to her by the press or in her personal relationships, Swift invites us to ruminate with her, making an impersonal endeavour her most personal yet.

Swift takes us into the vaults by uncovering six never-before released songs written at the same time as Fearless. We are provided with an intriguing look into the world of Swift’s golden era. While tracks like the dreamy Jack Antonoff-approved ‘Mr. Perfectly Fine’ are delivered with a knowing bite, the reimagining of ‘Change’, the closing track on 2008’s Fearless, proves even more relevant than before. 

In ‘Change’, Swift originally sang about overcoming battles nobody thought she would surpass: getting signed to Big Machine at age sixteen from a small Nashville label. On Taylor’s Version it reveals a dark inverse. What should be a shiny upstart is only a cog in an already-fraught industry. The sole similarity this time around is that Swift has the power to usurp it.