Taylor Swift performing “Shake It Off” at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford.
From where I sit, perched high in the 300-level seats of MetLife Stadium, it’s hard to make out the ant-sized figure dancing on the dollhouse stage below. The spotlights track her as she struts down a lengthy catwalk that opens out into an audience of adoring fans, but all I can see is an amorphous burst of intense light. Like some sort of glowing fairy, she appears too bright and fuzzy around the edges.
Massive screens around the arena broadcast the action, magnifying the tiny performers on stage to gigantic proportions. Wherever you’re sitting, a screen is visible — that’s the kind of age we live in. In focus is a Barbie-like woman wearing a glittering, teal bomber jacket over a black sequined crop top and skirt. A sweep of blond bangs falls coolly over her wayfarers. It’s Taylor Swift, of course, appropriately singing the first verse of “Welcome to New York” over the deafening roar of rabid Swifties at the East Rutherford concert stop on her 1989 World Tour.
Briefly, I wonder whether shelling out the $130 each (with tax and parking) for these nosebleed seats to watch her on a screen is worthwhile. I could just as easily watch a recording of this at home, later, in full control of the volume and in the comfort of my pajamas. But I quickly realize that the magnificence of a Swift concert comes not from the visuals, but from the way that, throughout her performance, Taylor Swift makes you, an anonymous member of the audience, feel seen.
Women easily outnumber men here, and at least one of the men’s bathrooms has been converted into a women’s one for the occasion. There are people of all ages in the sold-out venue, but most seem to be pre-teens with their parents and women in their early to late twenties — women like me who also share a birth year with the artist herself. Concert-goers vary in their dedication to the Swift cause, wearing everything from custom-made 1989 t-shirts, to concert merchandise and apparel with Taylor’s face on it, to outfits that simply mimic Taylor’s current signature style — crop tops, red lipstick, and wayfarer sunglasses. Some youngsters have even created ensembles to illustrate lyrics — wine-stained dresses and rose thorn garland — concepts that only made sense to me after the concert was over. Others have brought light-up 1989 signs, or posters bearing their favorite song lyrics. I’ve come empty-handed and apparently totally unprepared for the T. Swift love fest.
No matter how we’re dressed and what props we’re brought or bought, we’re all standing when Taylor Swift arrives. Our light-up bracelets, distributed to all near the stadium entrances, have called us to attention, not unlike flames beckoning to a moth, or Voldemort summoning his Death Eaters. The plastic bands flash a spectrum of colors at key points during each song, illuminating the entire stadium at once in an interactive light show that rivals the ones at Disney World. When the bands flash white, as they do during “Welcome to New York,” the crowd from floor to bleachers looks like 82,000 twinkling stars in the night sky. They flash red during “Bad Blood,” violet during an acoustic “You Belong with Me,” magenta during a keyboard-centric, sing-a-long “Love Story,” and pink and green during “Shake It Off” to match the lighting on stage. These bands on our wrists unify us as an audience and make us feel like an integral part of the performance, as though we’re all exclusive invitees at a girl-power dance party. And, as Taylor says, they allow her to see every single one of us. Though cheesy, it still makes us seem like more than just a ticket, or a song download, or an album purchase to her. We’re here, we matter, and together, it feels like we’re sharing something truly special.
For nearly two straight hours, after opening acts Shawn Mendes, HAIM, and Vance Joy, Taylor sings and shimmies her heart out to songs such as “That’s How You Get the Girl,” “Stay,” “Out of the Woods,” “I Wish You Would,” and “Style.” Between thematic song sets, she offers inspirational speeches, including these recommendations on boys and life: It’s better to be nice to girls instead of trying to tear each other down; don’t put up with mixed signals or boys who wait two days to text back; if you’re feeling down, shake it off and keep going. Her advice feels sincere and oddly relatable — universal, even. Of course, maybe that’s because she writes her songs herself, drawing from personal experience — a very human experience that seems not unlike our own. The life she sings about is full of heartbreaks, disappointments, setbacks, fights, and eventually, triumphs. If it’s an act, it’s a good one, but I don’t think it is one. She seems genuinely delighted to be performing for all of us tonight. She seems like the best kind of down-to-earth celebrity, just a normal person blessed with looks and talent, who is really just like you, only richer and famous.
In between her numerous outfit changes, mostly variations of sequined crop tops and jumpsuits, video interviews with her squad offer peeks into their glamorous lives as friends of Taylor Swift. But the videos don’t take up too much time, as she switches ensembles in a beat, fully living up to her last name. And though one minute she might be glistening with sweat, her hair slightly damp and matted, the next she emerges fully refreshed, glowing, and unfazed and she prances around the stage with the energy of a caffeinated toddler. In that way, she seems superhuman, like the mythical, untouchable superstar the stage lights have created.
Compared to her previous concerts, there’s more spectacle and dancing, less instrument playing in the 1989 World Tour, though she does break out her guitar and a piano a few times. She astounds and surprises with guest stars: musician friends — Nick Jonas — and Victoria’s Secret models. Her voice, as she belts out each note, is packed with even more power, edge, and adrenaline than it is on her album. She also remixes her old hits to fit her current style. She performs a dirge-y version of “I Knew You Were Trouble” as well as an angry, rock-inspired “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” It seems like most of that dreamy sound is gone, but the glitter and sparkles aren’t. That’s the beauty of Swift in concert and as an artist: she grows and matures, but she still remembers the person she used to be.
By the end, I’m dancing un-self-consciously next to strangers who are also sing-shouting all the words to “Shake It Off,” and it approaches a kind of religious experience. To be among thousands of other people who all shared this magical moment on a breezy summer night, one of the little lights in a Swiftian universe, isn’t something you can forget. We stumble happily out of the stadium still buzzing with song, not yet ready to enter the harsh real world and face the traffic snarls in the parking lot. But there’s one consolation: after the concert, the bracelet keeps lighting up if you tap it. It’s like a message from Taylor to take home: “This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go.”
