There are Taylor Swift songs that lodge themselves eternally in your head after just one listen; there are others whose lyrics are destined to be quoted among fans and shouted back at concerts for perpetuity. But “Carolina,” her understated contribution to the upcoming film Where the Crawdads Sing, seems to have been written with one specific purpose: to set the scene. Swift sings about creeks and back roads, mist and clouds, mud and pines. Working once again with producer Aaron Dessner, she favors acoustic instruments and minor chords that conjure the same haunted, naturalistic imagery.
Because her proper albums have always invited autobiographical interpretation—to a sometimes absurd degree of overanalysis—it makes sense that Swift embraces these opportunities writing for films to test out new settings and moods, stepping outside her carefully constructed universe and into someone else’s. In “Carolina,” she builds from the darker corners of her 2020 releases folklore and evermore, mostly abandoning the language and texture of pop music in favor of old American folk songs. Deepening and slowing her delivery to match the ghost-story setting, and stripping her lyrics of the narrative specificity she’s become known for, it’s a creative challenge she still manages to make her own. “You didn’t see me here/They never did see me here,” she sings in the pre-chorus, just before a major chord peeks out like sunlight through heavy clouds. Even when she wants to disappear, she can’t help but leave her mark.
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