The Life of a Showgirl is Taylor Swift’s latest attempt to reinvent herself, this time through a polished, Max Martin–produced pop record that brings back some of the shimmer of her 2010s era. On first listen, it sounded promising: tight production, sleek synths, and a sense of direction that’s been missing since folklore and evermore. But once I got through it all, the album is, admittedly, something that feels more calculated and mechanical than meaningful.

There are moments where the formula works. “The Fate of Ophelia” opens strong, with clean production and a catchy hook that hints at Taylor’s return to form. “Father Figure” has an intriguing concept, and “Eldest Daughter” shows sorts of emotional warmth, even if it never fully builds to anything. “Wood” is an ambitious, albeit slightly disturbing track. The collaboration with Sabrina Carpenter on the title track is fine, but probably a little too safe. Overall, it’s an ‘easy’ listen and much more cohesive than The Tortured Poets Department.

Now the actual issues… the core problem in this album lies in the lyricism. Swift’s writing, arguably once her greatest strength, feels worn out and distant. The emotional clarity that made her early albums so personal has been replaced by broad, sometimes awkward lines that don’t land how they’re intended to. These songs sound like they understand what emotional resonance should feel like, but can’t actually capture it.

It’s clear what she was trying to do through balancing her image as a pop icon with reflections on fame and performance. She wanted to put on a masquerade that she’s still in with the cool kids. The execution, however, feels hollow. Some string rhythms and synth beats flowed decently, but I found in the vocals that most sets of lyrics never hit. The same could be said for the release itself, which arrives in a frankly obscene number of album variants, each with slightly different covers, vinyl colors, and/or bonus tracks. It feels more like a marketing campaign than an artistic statement. Such a theme seems to be prevalent in recent projects by Swift, disappointingly.

The Life of a Showgirl shouldn’t be considered a failure, but it isn’t a high point for her either. It’s a decently-produced, sometimes enjoyable album that never connects on a deeper level — nor does it seem to develop Swift more as a person. The vision is loud and brash, but the feeling never appears in substance.