September 18th, 2019
By Nick Byrne
Ah, London: One of the greatest tourist destinations throughout all of Europe, if not the world— the land of songbook inspiring monuments, breathtakingly designed royal palaces, and a foreskin bearing male population aggregated at over 85%. Ah, Taylor Swift: One of the greatest artists of our time— an 8-foot-tall-Pennsylvanian-bred-pop-country-superstar with recently acquired stakes in the on-going fight for queer equality and all things rainbow. Could this be a match made in pop music heaven? If religion were real and if God had nothing better to do than make geography-based counterparts to go alongside polarizing pop stars, then perhaps, but in its simplest of forms: it’s the recipe for a really great song with an even greater message.
It’s been a character arc of a year for the “everyone loves her, everyone hates her,” country turned synth-master pop star. From publicly endorsing democratic candidate Phil Bredesen for senate while simultaneously slamming his Republican opponent, mega-conservative congresswoman Marsha Blackburn, to crossing Katy Perry’s name off of her “I hate you forever” hit list, it feels as though a newly liberated Taylor has finally emerged from the ashes of her own Reputation, and with that liberation comes a sense of social altruism.
While we all lie awake at night doused in the fuzzy warmth of our cotton-candy-tie-dye-Lover-themed-merch, obsessively coding through the latest lyrical labyrinth that is “TS7”, it’s impossible to ignore the masqueraded message of one track in particular, Track 11, better known as, “London Boy.” Dealing with a wordsmith mastermind who loves hidden messages and double-sided lyrics, going into TS7 is much like a symbology obsessed Tom Hanks heading into the Louvre to solve a murder mystery, you need to realize that nothing is what it seems and everything is subject to double, if not triple, entendre.
At first listen, “London Boy” is a straightforward ode to English actor Joe Alwyn, a man who, statistically speaking, has an 85% chance of being uncircumcised, a man who has also been lured into romantic captivity by Taylor Swift and her spell-binding ways for the last two or so years. To the unseasoned listener, Joe is her London boy and the song is simply documenting all of the things she loves to do with him while visiting him across the pond, but us true stans know that it’s more than that—you always have to read between the many layered lines of a Taylor Swift song to get to the real icing— because us true stans know that it’s about Joe’s foreskin, or, less specifically, foreskin in general.
With her impressively robust list of past lovers, made up largely of across the pond A-listers such as, Harry Styles (most probably uncircumcised), Tom Hiddleston (definitely uncircumcised), Calvin Harris (absolutely uncircumcised and also probably extremely well hung), and lest we not forget the rumored romance of Eddie Redmayne (another snake-skinned-bearing suspect), mixed with the fact that she is not only dating yet another—presumably— uncut man, but writing a song based on the foreskin-proud city that said man resides in, one can suspect that Taylor not only loves foreskin, but that she fetishizes it, cementing all former theories and suspicions.
After an interesting sound bite provided by an Idris Elba interview, Taylor commences the tune with the following verse:
“I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal
And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey
But something happened, I heard him laughing
I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent
They say home is where the heart is
But that’s not where mine lives.”
So basically this is a six-line soliloquy highlighting Swift’s extreme adoration for the European-tradition of keeping their gentlemen unsnipped (Joe’s “dimples” and “accent” acting as direct symbolism for his foreskin) and juxtaposing that level of adoration against a fading adoration for less exciting, yet more American-friendly things, things such as: faded blue jeans and Bruce Springsteen. The song carries on in a similar fashion, with Swift talk-singing cheekily while name-dropping picturesque-sounding English-based tourist attractions, each of which can be seen as an innuendo for Joe’s English hooded wonder. That being cemented with Swift confessing in the chorus of the song, “… so I guess all of the rumors are true.” The rumors being, of course, that she can’t get enough of uncircumcised men.
With her recent strides in using her platform for good rather than egotism (Swift has recently faced great flak from the evil right wing after her VMA acceptance speech where she demanded that the equality act be recognized by the senate after her music video prompted over 500,000 signatures) we are experiencing a much more palatable version of Taylor these days. No longer milking the self-referential irony of not actually being self aware at all, Taylor has, for the most part, branched out from self-indulgence and joined us in the fight against the dystopian satanic nightmare that is our current legislation, while still giving us some really great songs to bop along to. And for her latest act of progressivism, she is now normalizing, if not celebrating, the natural and beautiful state of the uncircumcised man, all the while bashing American-produced stigmas around the once-taboo topic.
Taylor 7.0 has once again surprised me, made like R.L. Stein and given me goosebumps even, surpassed my very low expectations, because she has, yet again, done something pretty cool. Is it as important as fighting for human rights? Maybe not. But it’s important nonetheless, because all too often mainstream society unfairly ridicules the uncircumcised, and there is no cause, too big or too small, for Taylor to take on these days, because the new, new Taylor is anything but conventional. She’s a Trailer Park livin’, gay rights clamoring, won’t take shit from no man (see D.J. David Mueller story) social justice warrior— and I love her all the more for it.
What’s next for this new, new version of Taylor, you might be asking yourself during an insomniatic episode at 3 in the morning while screaming into your pillow because existential panic is now affiliated with all three of your most dominant personalities— only time will tell, but don’t be surprised if she’s already ripped the trousers off of Benedict Cumberbatch by the time TS8 rolls around.