Did you ever live in fear of a musical moment? Cover band versions of “Bohemian Rhapsody?” The second where the tape runs out on Britney? Without a doubt, last Saturday with Taylor Swift was one. Not because of the whole Kanye West debacle that preceded it. He’s toothless now having outgrown his welcome on the public stage. From barraging MTV Awards with his egotistical showboating to his crown of thorns trick for Rolling Stone to leaving Lady Gaga high and dry on their December-planned tour, there’s zip argument regarding West: the rapper/producer is an idiot; predictable.
But the Wyomissing, Pennsylvania born, nineteen-year-old? She’s charming and pretty albeit a bit lipless yet you feared for that Saturday Night Live appearance of hers. West is ridiculous, but Swift seems to be (save for her sales) a bit of a luckless goof. Dangerous.
Sure, having West run up on her during her VMA win’s acceptance speech was on Kanye. But from accidentally tripping and falling over herself during a recent Ellen (Degeneres) program to accidentally posing with a guy wearing a Nazi symbol on his t-shirt during at Katy Perry's Hollywood b-day bash – she’s seemed like a mess in dress. Couple this with getting dumped by a Jonas Brother and talking about having trouble buying underwear to teen mags, and such and she’s a bit of a scary hair pin.
Swift’s a kid, barely with her feet wet and there’s something disarming to be found within that awkwardness to be sure. Yet, hers was a goofishness that, after three years and three albums in might’ve proved hazardous to those near-by her. Luckily for us, Kristen Wiig, Andy Samberg and all SNL’s cast Swift’s gawkiness came off as comic energetic strength – the Shakira imitations, the Kate-Minus-Eight wig, the embraceable brace-face, the kissy monologue. The only hazard Swift wrought was to my nostrils and keeping drinkable liquids from flying through it. Good show, Swift. Now if I could only lose that fear of Spears.
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