Same Album, Different Era: Why Taylor Swift’s Re-Recordings Still Matter | June 2025

In a corner of Taylor Swift’s official website, Swift lists her eras in order: Taylor Swift, Fearless (Taylor’s Version), Speak Now (Taylor’s Version), Red (Taylor’s Version), 1989 (Taylor’s Version), REPUTATION, Lover, folklore, evermore, Midnights, THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT, and the culmination that was THE ERAS TOUR.

Historians realize that this isn't chronologically accurate. But we fans understand the role of albums designated with Taylor’s Version. “Taylor’s Version” of albums, so far released between 2021 and 2023, were expanded versions of the original albums that featured mature vocals and previously unreleased songs “From The Vault.” The pioneer of transforming pain into art, Swift dived into her re-recording project after the unwarranted sale of the masters of her first six albums. (Starting with her seventh album, she owned her work outright with Universal Music Group.)

Importantly, all Taylor’s Version music effectively assumed the place of its original counterpart. The singer’s adherence to this doctrine involved attentively replicating every syllable of the work of her youth. Swifties’ adamant investment in it entailed not only listening to re-recorded versions, but altogether refusing to stream the original versions, dubbing them “stolen.” Four re-recordings later, with the devaluation of the “stolen” versions and the billionaire status earned via the Eras Tour, Swift bought her master recordings. “Stolen” versions became “reclaimed” versions. As of May 30th, 2025—a newfound Independence Day for Swift and her fans—everything was, by definition, “Taylor’s Version.”

In joyous celebration, listeners flocked to Swift’s catalog. Within a week, eleven Swift albums were charting on the Billboard 200 simultaneously, including reclaimed albums, re-recorded albums, and albums released with Universal Music Group. Evidently, original albums and their re-recorded equivalents were more fraternal than identical twins.

The difference lies in how the nostalgia of music operates. Music creates sentiment through two avenues. What I call “material nostalgia” of music arises from timing and physical placement. In the material sense, people attach memories to songs that happen to be popular during those periods or played during those moments. What I call “attributive nostalgia” of music arises from lyrical descriptions or melodic feelings. In the attributive sense, people attach memories to songs whose meanings semantically encapsulate those moments. These avenues can be separate or they can overlap in either direction. My first semester of college was materially marked by “Lover” (August 2019) and attributively defined by “Never Grow Up” (a coming-of-age ballad). “Dress” materially transports me to its surprise guitar performance at the Eras Tour Amsterdam (July 2024) and attributively reminds me of a former paramour’s witty twist on it.

Although the re-recordings are no longer needed as outshining understudies, they still serve a distinct purpose. Taylor’s Version releases carved out fascinating liminal spaces. They didn’t only add vault tracks, but they also changed material nostalgia while retaining much of the attributive nostalgia of the original versions.

The tracklist of any version of Red, for instance, reigns as the mosaic of a heartbroken person, but Red (2012) revolved around the breakout “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” while Red (Taylor’s Version) (2021) centered around the poignant “All Too Well.” The tracklist of any version of 1989, Red’s successor, champions freedom and independence. But the two records differ materially: the first 1989 (2014) surfaced as Swift’s introduction to the pop landscape, while 1989 (Taylor’s Version) (2023) has Swift singing from her longstanding position atop the pop charts. The former takes me back to being 12 years old, buying an entire album on iTunes for the first time. The latter brings me back to painting seagulls during a work break in my new office, having just started my post-graduation job. To me, the songs of either edition represent the fizzling, unfulfilled promises that underscore womanhood.

Offering multiple channels of self-discovery through music, Swift’s re-recordings de-linearized the human lifetime. She took ownership not only legally and financially, but emotionally, signaling to listeners that they deserved to revisit, rewrite, and reinterpret their experiences at any given moment. Swift’s music has always been a path of doing that, and this re-recording endeavor solidified that, as its initial intent of erasure evolved into a journey of enhancement.

Emerging as distinct bodies of work, the reclaimed versions and the Taylor’s Versions each have their own places within Swift’s storied career and the hearts of Swifties. More than just a stepping stone on the way back to Swift’s original work, and even beyond the fundamental impact on artist contract conversations, Swift’s re-recordings aren’t just principle—they’re comprehensive eras in their own right.