We are pleased to inform you that Taylor Swift's 8 bonus tracks for 'Midnights' contain some of her best songwriting ever

Ahlgrim: It's no secret that Dessner and Swift make magic together; he was her primary collaborator throughout the "Folklore" and "Evermore" era. There's something about Dessner's contemplative, organic production that pulls something special out of Swift, often inspiring her most elegant lyricism.

"The Great War" is absolutely packed with coded language, floral symbolism, and rich metaphors. Swift evokes dueling sensations of love, loss, sacrifice, and triumph with a stunning array of images: "My knuckles were bruised like violets," "Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair," "My hand was the one you reached for."

Swift's melodies are equally evocative, coloring the song with both wistful nostalgia and headstrong resolve. (I'm especially partial to the way she sighs, "That was the night I nearly lost you / I really thought I'd lost you.")

"The Great War" is a battle cry in the name of screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, the kind of love that hurts so good.

Larocca: After settling into disappointment from the first 13 tracks, I pressed play on "The Great War" at 3 a.m. and felt an intense sense of relief. Dessner's back, baby!

"The Great War" is rich with imagery and lyrical call-backs; the bridge alone references at least six of Swift's other songs. "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed" is "Lavender Haze;" "Your finger on my hairpin triggers," recalls the hairpin reference in "Right Where You Left Me;" "Soldier down on that icy ground" brings back a visual from "The Lakes."

"Looked up at me with honor and truth" is reminiscent of "It's like I'm wasting your honor" from "Peace;" "Broken and blue, so I called off the troops," parallels lines in "All Too Well (10-minute Version);" and "That was the night I nearly lost you" harks back to messaging in "Cornelia Street."

I'm not giving Dessner credit for Swift's songwriting here — her talent is all hers — but I will say that, based on the songs he's produced, he seems to inspire better songwriting than Jack Antonoff, who was Swift's main collaborator on the standard-edition of "Midnights."

While Antonoff's peppy, polished synths can bring out Swift's kitschiest lyrics about cats and eyeliner, Dessner's company seems to encourage Swift to explore extended metaphors, coaxing out poeticism and hard truths.

Ahlgrim: With just two lines, "Bigger Than the Whole Sky" lands a harder gut-punch than entire verses, choruses, and songs found elsewhere on this album: "I've got a lot to pine about / I've got a lot to live without."

It's one of those deceptively simple couplets, similar to the chorus of Lorde's heartbreaking "Big Star" ("Baby, you're a big star / Wanna take your picture"). Although it's understated in its language and construction, it communicates exactly the right amount of sorrow, leaving just enough space for your own interpretation.

The fact that "Bigger Than the Whole Sky" can be understood as so many different forms of grief — suffering a miscarriage, for example, or enduring the death of a loved one — is a terrible symptom of the human condition. But finding empathy and connection in songs like this is what makes the pain manageable.

Larocca: As Callie pointed out in our main review of the album, "Many critics will call these lyrics 'cryptic' when they're really just non-specific." I'd argue the lyrics on "Bigger Than the Whole Sky" are both cryptic and non-specific, but they work for this very reason. While it's unclear what Swift is singing about, the lyrics are devastating enough to relate to a wide range of grief.

And even though the lyrics seem vague, they easily link to other songs within Swift's discography, aiding the listener to apply it to whatever pain is relevant. If you zero in on "So I'll say words I don't believe" you might be reminded of "This won't go back to normal, if it ever was / It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because / 'Cause I have to" from "Soon You'll Get Better," suggesting the song is about a loved one's illness.

But if you hone in on "I'm never gonna meet / What could've been, would've been / What should've been you," you might connect it straight to "Would've, Could've, Should've." This leads to an understanding that Swift is mourning the loss of her girlhood, and who she was before her trauma permanently altered her at 19.

No matter how you slice it, "Bigger Than the Whole Sky" is an open wound bleeding out.

Ahlgrim: I love the flashes of Swift's humor in "Paris," particularly in the first verse: "'Did you see the photos?' / No, I didn't, but thanks, though." You can practically see the mischievous glint in her eye.

Many of Swift's best I'm-so-in-love songs carry shades of fear and anxiety ("Lover," "Cornelia Street"), and those are here, too. "I wanna brainwash you / Into loving me forever," she sings in the bridge, as if the only way she'll get a happy ending is through mystical trickery. "I wanna transport you / To somewhere the culture's clever," she adds, betraying a distrust of the world that her relationship currently exists in, a culture not clever enough to understand the enormity of her affection. This isn't an average love in a straightforward font; it demands "swooping, sloping, cursive letters" to confess.

"Paris" might just seem like a cute bop on the surface, but there are plenty of nuances to unpack if you care to. It's shiny and fun, sure, but still sharp and keen-eyed — a classic Swiftian deep cut that will become a sneaky fan-favorite, like "I Wish You Would," "I Think He Knows," and "Message In a Bottle."

Larocca: Swift loves turning places into characters: New York is the main one, but she also enjoys London from time to time. Typically, these locations reflect ones she's made home — but in "Paris," Swift explores new terrain, somewhere foreign and beautiful, a city she's never stayed in for too long.

But the brilliance of "Paris" is that it's all a fantasy. She's pretending to drink champagne in an alley with her lover, but really, she's just lying in bed staring at her ceiling, with cheap wine in her hand and NYC or London right outside her window.

The song echoes the much-needed escape many people craved while we were trapped inside earlier in the pandemic, as many tried not to let the news consume them and turned their apartments into staycation destinations.

"Paris," with its synth claps and breezy cadence, is an excellent display of Swift's pop prowess, building off fan favorites like "Cornelia Street" and "Call It What You Want" to create something that's both classic Swift and entirely original. Also, "I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever" is such a mood.

Ahlgrim: "High Infidelity," another Dessner-produced gem, walks a fine line between accusation and confession.

It sure sounds like Swift cheated on her boyfriend, but he already killed her by not loving her enough, so does it really count? It's a far more nuanced and insightful probe into Swift's guilt, sensitivity, and self-righteousness than, say, "Anti-Hero."

I personally love when Swift gets a little tart, a little sarcastic: "Do you really wanna know where I was April 29? / Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?" Here's what I hear: "You treated me poorly, what did you think was gonna happen?" After all, there were slurs thrown around (probably of the misogynistic variety), accusations of "freeloading," and open wounds left to fester. I'm on her side.

"High Infidelity" works particularly well when put in conversation with "Renegade," the better of Swift's two collaborations with Big Red Machine. Both songs ask harsh questions, investigating the corrosion caused by a half-hearted kind of love ("Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything? / Or do you just not want to?").

Larocca: I'm going to refrain from telling you who I think "High Infidelity" might be about, but if you're curious about the significance of April 29, I'm not not going to encourage you to Google the release date for "This Is What You Came For." Do with that information what you will.

"High Infidelity" explores what happened when Swift returned home after "Illicit Affairs." Both the relationship and the affair are ill-fated, destined to falter in their own ways. While the latter is a drug that only works the first few hundred times, "High Infidelity" is about a relationship that was doomed to fail the second Swift's boyfriend started keeping count of any perceived indiscretion or fault of hers. As she points out in "Getaway Car," "I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason."

Swift grapples with the confliction of her own guilt and the understanding that her partner didn't value her anyways. She knows she did something bad — "I'd pay if you'd just know me" even parallels "And if he spends my change, then he had it comin'" from "I Did Something Bad" — but she fielded slurs, accusations, and abandonment ("At the house lonely"). She knew it was time to go, even if she felt she didn't go about it correctly.

Despite wrestling with a moral dilemma, though, Swift doesn't lose her wit or humor. Make no mistake, she's still going to take jabs at the one who caused her pain: "Put on your records and regret me" and "Put on your headphones and burn my city" steep with sarcasm, calling back to "And you would hide away and find your peace of mind / With some indie record that's much cooler than mine" from "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together."

Ahlgrim: This song sounds exactly how it feels to kiss a friend for the first time — someone you never thought you'd want or fear you shouldn't want.

"Glitch" is the perfect word for this experience. You worry it might ruin everything, but it's more of a hiccup in the routine than a catastrophe; more rare than wrong, like a lunar eclipse.

The sensation Swift describes is mirrored by the production, with her phantasmic harmonies and Antonoff's jittery synths. "Glitch" might be the weirdest song on "Midnights," but it delights in its own weirdness.

Larocca: I'm obsessed with this song. "Glitch" expertly breaks down the feeling of going from being just friends with someone to something that recalibrates your entire understanding of love and sexuality. The lyrics are paired with some of Swift's coolest production to date; Antonoff's synths sound like they're slightly malfunctioning, which means they're working perfectly here.

"I think there's been a glitch / Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch" is a couplet that should've made it onto the main album; it's catchy but clever, and far superior to any of the glitter-gel-pen lines on "Karma" or "Bejeweled."

Ahlgrim: I have already declared that "Would've, Could've, Should've" is the best song on "Midnights" by a healthy mile, but moreover, it's one of the best songs Swift has ever written.

The more I listen to it — the more chills run down my spine every time I hear Swift wail, "Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first" — the more I feel it belongs in the pantheon of cathartic Swiftian masterpieces alongside "All Too Well," "Clean," "August," and "Tolerate It."

Larocca: "Would've, Could've, Should've" is one of Swift's best songs, and I don't mean on "Midnights." I mean one of her best songs, period. It's appalling that it's a bonus track.

Of course, I get the poeticism behind putting it at track 19 — it's the age she was when she lived through the relationship she's reflecting on — but this is a track five, through and through. I pointed out in our review that, for the actual fifth track, I wasn't sure how well "You're on Your Own, Kid" could hang with the likes of "The Archer," "Dear John," or "Tolerate It." But "Would've, Could've, Should've" should've absolutely been included in that collection.

I can't even begin to describe the emotional journey this song takes me on every single time I hear it. The anger that bubbles up in my chest when I hear "Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts / Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first" is one that I've been burying deep since I was 18 (and touched on briefly in an essay about Swift from 2019). By excavating her own trauma, Swift ruthlessly digs up mine too. As I texted Callie the other day, "all of our favorite Taylor Swift songs are just sonic embodiments of our own pain."

This song will release a lot of emotions in a lot of women — and already has in many that I know. But zoning out a bit, "Would've, Could've, Should've" plays out as a second act to the 2010 slow-scorcher "Dear John." At 19, Swift wrote, "And I'll look back and regret how I ignored when they said 'run as fast as you can.'" Now at 32 (the same age John Mayer was when he dated 19-year-old Swift), she agonizingly confirms, "I regret you all the time."

If you pay close attention, Swift focuses solely on the would'ves and the could'ves ("If you would've blinked then I would've / Looked away at the first glance / If you tasted poison, you could've / Spit me out at the first chance") but never the should'ves. That's because she's already told us those: "Dear John" concludes with the line "Don't you think I was too young? You should've known."

If you've been hoping for a 10-minute version of "Dear John" á la the extended cut of "All Too Well" that we received last year, just listen to "Would've, Could've, Should've" immediately afterward. It's a poignant reflection on what she already knew 12 years ago: she was too young to be messed with, and that kind of wound doesn't ever close.

Ahlgrim: Swift delivers a devastating set of lyrics in the "Dear Reader" bridge: "My fourth drink in my hand / These desperate prayers of a cursed man / Spilling out to you for free."

I'm reminded of a comment she made in a video about "Anti-Hero," explaining her insecurity-induced doom spirals: "I just struggle with the idea of not feeling like a person."

In many ways, Taylor Swift is not a person: Taylor Swift is a brand; Taylor Swift is a persona; Taylor Swift is a concept that exists in the minds of millions of people, taking millions of different forms. I can only imagine how terrifying that must be. It's hard enough to figure out how to feel about yourself without taking everyone else's feelings into account.

Even more tragically, Swift is expected to mine her trauma and self-loathing for our entertainment. She does this exceptionally well. But that doesn't mean she's not allowed to feel conflicted about it.

"Dear Reader" is one of the most heartfelt songs Swift has ever released — a plea to see her as a person, not as a character or some kind of "guiding light."

Larocca: I'm sure many will listen to "Dear Reader" and connect it straight to "Jane Eyre" or, possibly due to recency bias, Netflix's "Bridgerton." It also reminds me a lot of Lorde's "The Path," another Antonoff-produced track.

But may I present another potential influence: Bo Burnham.

"Dear Reader" sounds like Swift was one of the many people who got really into Burnham's art after the release of "Inside" last year. It's as if she went down a rabbit hole, found the interview where he encourages fans not to "take advice from people like me who've gotten very lucky" (he explicitly includes Swift in that category), and then chased it with "Can't Handle This" from "Make Happy."

This isn't a huge stretch. We know from "Would've, Could've, Should've" that she's seen "Promising Young Woman" and the pair have a mutual friend in Phoebe Bridgers. But even if I'm way off base here, I'm still going to continue believing the vocal distortion is meant to emulate Burnham mocking Kanye West. I just know Swift would've gotten a real kick out of that.

But influences aside, "Dear Reader" is a more-than-worthy addition to the ever-growing Taylor Swift Discographic Universe.

She dives into all the advice she has to give — "Bend when you can / Snap when you have to," "When you aim at the devil / Make sure you don't miss" — before begging you not to follow any of it. Because, according to her, if you knew who she really was, you wouldn't trust a word she says. But no matter how much she begs her fans to find another guiding light, she understands why they keep coming back ("I shine so bright").

And thus, these desperate prayers of a cursed man will keep spilling out to us for free. It's both a heartbreaking admission and a solemn swear that as long as people keep listening, she'll keep digging up the grave of her own demons to deliver some hymn millions will connect with on a personal level.

Ahlgrim: This song immediately conjures images in my brain of Hilary Duff making out in the rain, Amanda Bynes frolicking around London, and Jennifer Garner hanging her head out of a taxi. It sounds warm and triumphant like a montage about falling in love, or finding freedom in a big city.

But in reality, Swift is stitching together gut-wrenching scenes of heartbreak: throwing up in the street; crying about a piece of clothing; sitting home alone because your friends don't want to catch the sad germs. She's pretending to be OK, but her pain is constantly spilling out.

In fact, "Hits Different" includes one of the most tragic bridges of Swift's career (and that's saying a lot for someone who's made bridge construction a cornerstone of her artistry).

She hears a key turn in the door and perks up, hopeful it's her ex, but secretly terrified it's an intervention ("Is it okay? Is it you? / Or have they come to take me away?"). That caused me some Sylvia Plath-level hurt.

Larocca: "Hits Different" lives up to its name by sounding unlike anything else from the "Midnights" era.

This is perhaps the one bonus track that makes sense to me as a bonus track, but only because it reminds me of how "New Romantics" shared the same designation on "1989." Both songs are some of the best from their respective eras, and Swift must know she needs something strong to entice fans to go out of their way to buy a special CD from Target.

And if any song could get me to purchase a compact disc in the year 2022, it would probably be "Hits Different." Swift immediately draws listeners in with a hilarious, vivid image of herself in heartbroken disarray: "I pictured you with other girls in love / Then threw up on the street." She keeps you locked in with one of the catchiest choruses on all of "Midnights" and a punchy bridge that's begging to be screamed in the car.

Sonically, it sounds like the best of country pop from the late '90s and early 2000s, the kind of crossover hit that Shania Twain would've included on "Come on Over." The way Swift sings "And I never don't cry (And I never don't cry) at the bar" makes it easy to imagine this song playing on the same radio station as Alanis Morissette's "Ironic" or Faith Hill's "This Kiss" in 1998.

Within Swift's own discography, its only cousin is "Death by a Thousand Cuts" from "Lover," thanks to its drunken display of heartbreak and desperate search for answers on how to get by.

Ahlgrim: The primary goal of pop music is to communicate emotion in a way that feels vivid and relatable. When emotionalism is toned down in the lyrics, it needs to be punched up in the production, and vice versa.

Throughout the standard edition of "Midnights," with some exceptions, both are toned down.

In the bonus tracks, however, both are punched up. And I love all eight with my entire heart — the intricate poetry of "The Great War," the soft-hearted intimacy of "Dear Reader," the deceptive sparkle of "Hits Different." They all hit different.

From a structural perspective, it's a bit of a cop-out to tack extra songs onto the end of the album's deluxe edition. Swift knows her fans will devour any scrap of music she doles out, so it releases her from the challenge of crafting a tight, focused tracklist with the strongest possible sequence.

This also feels like a symptom of the streaming era. More songs mean more streams, which translates to more sales, which seems very important to Swift and her team.

I wish I could say I'm angry at Swift for leaving these eight perfect songs off the official album in favor of duds like "Bejeweled" and "Midnight Rain" — especially since that's the tracklist that I (and hundreds of thousands of fellow fans) will be stuck listening to on vinyl.

But in truth, I can't stay mad at someone who wrote "Would've, Could've, Should've." I'm just glad she didn't keep these songs in the vault and leave us wondering.

Larocca: Swift had the material to make a perfect album, but instead, she banished all of her best songs to the deluxe editions. This is deeply frustrating, because, while I've loved receiving vault tracks with her rerecordings and peeks into her creative process, Swift made it clear these eight tracks were mere extensions of the album, and not the album itself. At the end of the day, the vinyl I preordered doesn't include most of the songs that make this era shine so bright.

I'm also a bit confused about how she decided on her "magic 13." "Glitch" and "Paris" are far better pop songs than "Bejeweled" and "Karma;" "Would've, Could've, Should've," has vastly more emotional depth than "You're on Your Own, Kid;" "Dear Reader" is a stronger ending note than "Mastermind."

These faulty tracklisting decisions may have been a result of insisting on primarily collaborating with Antonoff. But for an album that was portrayed as being her most introspective to date, Swift should've leaned on Dessner more; his presence on the bonus tracks makes it clear she considered it.

Regardless of how the tracklist came to be, however, Swift did, in fact, make magic in the making of "Midnights." While creating the album, she unearthed some of her best storytelling to date on songs like "The Great War" and "Would've, Could've, Should've," confronted her darkest self on "High Infidelity" and "Dear Reader," and proved yet again that she is one of our brightest pop stars ("Glitch," "Hits Different," "Paris.")

I may not entirely vibe with where Swift's head is at around midnight, but that's OK. She does her best work at 3 a.m., anyway.

Worth listening to:

"Lavender Haze"

"Maroon"

"You're on Your Own, Kid"

"Question…?"

"Sweet Nothing"

"The Great War"

"Bigger Than the Whole Sky"

"Paris"

"High Infidelity"

"Glitch"

"Would've, Could've, Should've"

"Dear Reader"

"Hits Different"

Background music:

"Snow on the Beach" (featuring Lana Del Rey)

"Labyrinth"

Split decision:

"Anti-Hero"

"Vigilante Shit"

"Karma"

Press skip:

"Midnight Rain"

"Bejeweled"

"Mastermind"

*Final album score based on songs per category (1 point for "Worth listening to," .5 for "Background music," .5 for "Split decision," 0 for "Press skip").