The 40 Greatest Nightly Moments of Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour

The Eras Tour shows were about 95% identical in content every night, but the 5% that was different made all the difference in the world for Swift obsessives, as she performed two acoustic “secret songs” per night… ensuring worldwide attention at a certain time every evening as global fans tuned in to bootleg livestreams. When she came close to running through her entire catalog by the end of 2023, she switched for 2024 to doing a pair of nightly mashups, allowing fans to obsess over how the two (or sometimes three) songs she was turning into a medley related to one another, musically or thematically. That she spent time on tour planning and rehearsing these one-night-only segments, on top of the athletic marathon she performed each night, was a little bit staggering. (Meanwhile: for everyone in the world who mistakenly believes she lip-synchs each night… it’s a hell of a stunt she pulled, then, miming these spur-of-the-moment solo performances.)

If Swift herself described this in the new “Eras Tour” book as her “favorite moment of the night,” who are we to quibble and place it very much lower? “It’s just the most fun I’ve ever had, that one,” she wrote. “The chair choreography! The catty, vengeful, mischievous personas we get to try on and play with.” She probably couldn’t say it there, but we can: It was the sexiest part of the night, too, with a choreographed sensuality that its obvious inspiration, Bob Fosse, could have been proud of.

Most of the United States unfortunately missed out on the whole “Tortured Poets Department” segment that she added to the show upon that album’s release in March, with mostly international dates scheduled for 2024 and only a brief return to playing in the U.S. this fall. But every Yank who traveled to Europe or other climes to catch it surely felt it was worth the plane fare just for this spectacular insertion. The highlight of this late addition was the number in which, not unlike “Blank Space,” Swift boldly and ironically owns some of the worst things that have been said about her — in this case, playing the role of a witch. She rode a mirrored, driver-operator platform that really did make it appear from certain angles like she was “levitating down your street.” You might have levitated a little in your seat, too.

There’s nothing the crowd at a pop-superstar stadium show loves than a 10-minute diversion into folk music. Well, it’s true. Night after night, Swift, wearing what looked like the world’s most glamorous red bathrobe, would pick up one of her bejeweled acoustic guitars and tap an imaginary watch on her bare wrist, asking the audience if they had 10 minutes to spare. Swift did a lot of expert condensing of many songs in the set, but there was delicious irony in how the fan favorite remains the one she expanded beyond any sense of limitation.

The bridge has largely disappeared in pop music — except in Swift-land, where it’s everything. Nearly every bridge in her catalog has at least as much sing-along (or shout-along) value as the main hook, often more. So it was exhilarating for the audience to get to that first cathartic moment when everyone, as one, could sing: “I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you!” It registered as a prophecy, since, for the first time in her life, Swift is now enjoying a very un-secret, somewhat lived-in-public relationship. But its elevation of candor as a personal virtue represents her whole ethos, and one millions of fans have adopted.  

Or just getting bent… so much sideways leaning! The “Reputation” songs had Swift (joined by her dancers) twisting her body into slickly contorted shapes, further owning the Kardashian meme that she was a snake. Choreography-wise, it was one of the more unusual looks of the night, and one that paid off, not least of all in everyone in the place snapping photos of the outfit that was missing one leg, like skin she’d just begun to shed.

For anyone in the audience who had experienced grief in their life, this tribute to Swift’s grandmother was a heart-grabber, with its weirdly personal details about how even grocery receipts can feel like invaluable souvenirs after a death. As in the recorded version, Swift let the actual operatic voice of Marjorie waft out after her own subsided, finding some solace in the idea that her grandmother finally got to play the big rooms.

It’s not just in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” that Swift played with witchy imagery; in “Willow,” she was joined by a whole coven. But in this instance, it wasn’t played for mock-menace, but for a kind of ethereal beauty, as her rerobed companions tossed illuminated globes lightly in the air. It put a fresh spin on one of her most gorgeous and (for all its popularity) underrated love songs.

There’s a whole mini-narrative that developed in the added “Tortured Poets Department” segment: I can’t go on, I must go on. Which, fortunately, Swift played more for knowing laughs than for self-pity. A recorded swing version of the tune played as dancers attempt to revive the exhausted, flustered flapper — who then rebounds to a more-or-less disco beat. The costume design was part 1930s Hollywood glam, part ‘60s Vegas, part marching band extravaganza, and all a treat.

OK, let’s take a survey: Before the “Eras Tour” book came out, how many fans realized this is what is transpiring towad the end of “Mastermind”: “We recreate a chessboard, and when I signal the dancers to move to different spots on the board, they actually create the exact sequence for a checkmate.” People with floor seats could be forgiven for missing it; the rest of us who didn’t catch it obviously won’t be accused of being brainiacs.

At the end of the secret songs segment, Swift took a nightly dive into an opening in the B-stage, with video screens embedded into the ramp picturing her as swimming back to the main stage. As she revealed as a not-too-surprising aside in her new book, that “involves a lot of blind faith and a big airbag under the stage. It’s the coolest illusion of the night and I’ll never forget the sound of the crowd the first time they saw it, somewhere between shock, horror, and elation.”

Never mind the ritual that developed of affording Swift a multi-minute ovation following each reading of this piano number.For the audience, it’s a chance to sing along as she flashes her eyes during the (you’re your ears, children) “What a shame she’s fucked in the head” moment.

As with the chessmate of “Mastermind,” this video effect on the ramp probably won’t unnoticed for those with floor seats. But as Swift moves around the stage, she perilously leaves large cracks wherever she’s stepped. But no major breakage occurs — her stage, like the tentative new relationship she’s describing, will survive the stress.

Not quite as anticipated as the secret songs — but, hey, close — was what declaration her dancer Saunders would make, when the mic was passed to him at a key moment each night. Often it would be a slyly local reference, whether in English or the dominant language among the international audience. At the final show in Vancouver, it was: “For the last time, no!”

The era of massive backstage meet-and-greets for select fans is probably over, but Swift recognized the symbolic importance of engaging directly with her audience by having her handlers pick one pre-teen Swiftie a night to be the recipient of quite a collector’s item.

Swift’s show is so choreographed down to the second — apart from the secret songs segment — that it’s easy to imagine she might be on autopilot, 100-plus shows into the run. But the occasional visual interactions with fans made it clear she remained fully in the moment. Most comically, there’s a great video snippet of her turning to a fan who the spots wearing a jacket identical to the one she has on for the closing segment and mouthing the words: “I told you not to wear that!”

Swift is very silvery during the business-formal-wear production number that is “The Man,” her feminist anthem from “Lover,” but it’s a kick when she puts her feet up on her executive desk and reveals their red soles. It’s a nod either to Dorothy or just the idea that there’s always a beating heart beneath her well-acknowledged business acumen.

Normally, when stars shorten their greatest hits in a live show, there’s dismay over the classics getting short shrift. But with 43 songs to get through, there’s an art to making needed trims without anyone feeling cheated. Truth be told, every time I saw the show, I felt a split-second of disappointment when a song as great at “Style” was coming to a premature end… only to feel the immediate dopamine rush when you realize she rushed the ending to get to the next high even faster, in the form of “Blank Space.” Few of the songs felt truly truncated, although she boiled down “Illicit Affairs” to its climactic essence, as an odd but super-effective tag-on to the much sunnier “August.” In the end, she’s not just a great writer, she’s a smart editor.

Only a select segment of fans knew to watch out for this, but if you got to the loge stairs overlooking the left side of the stage early enough, you could catch sight of Swift being wheeled into the production in a cart marked as janitorial. The idea of a superstar squeezing herself into a box to make a surreptitious entry is comical, but maybe it’s lined with velvet and includes a mini-bar, who knows.

This signature production number got axed for 2024, when Swift had to make trims to the existing show to make room for “TTPD.” But it was good, melodramatic fun while it lasted. The uber-elongated dining room table is probably directly inspired by Orson Welles’ use of a similar prop for a pre-separation scene in “Citizen Kane,” but in this case, the neglected wife doesn’t sit silently at her end — she crawls across it on hands and knees to pour out her anguish and anger.

Swift makes a point each night of introducing the “Folklore” segment by saying that album represented her excursion into fiction-writing… but perhaps the woman doth protest too much, because there was obviously a lot of deeply personal stuff mixed in there too. While she may never publicly acknowledge it, it’s hard not to conclude that “Ricochet” is about the bitter end to the Big Machine relationship. So it’s fitting that the funeral theme turns into a full procession on stage, on the Eras Tour… an outing that never would have happened, in this format, if Swift hadn’t been inspired by re-recording all her old albums.

The different albums and their different looks are all pretty distinctive as the show progresses each night, but Swift does bring them all together in “Look What You Made Me Do,” as the traumatized-looking dancers wear outfits emblematic of a past that is a little too damaged to take your call right now.

A first-rate deployment of fringe, and of doing the twist, or the shag. Some of Swift’s stage choreography is challenging and world-class, but some of it is meant to say: You can try this at home, kids.

Perhaps the strangest juxtaposition of songs in the show is the one in the newish “Tortured Poets” section that has “But Daddy, I Love Him” leaping directly into “So High School” — both ebullient, but clearly about polar-opposite IRL guys. But Swift is finding some kind of value in singing about the kind of guy you can’t bring home to daddy, directly followed by the kind you can.

Swift doesn’t employ key changes nearly as much as she adds surprise to songs by building massive bridges. But “Love Story” has one for the ages, a killer even when you see it coming. Yes, it’s one of Swift’s most simplistic songs, but when that change kicks in, so do the endorphins of anyone in attendance and half-alive.

Is it cheating to include someone else’s song as a highlight of Swift’s show? Not really — it accompanies an exciting moment for the audience, as the countdown clock registers the last couple of minutes before the show officially begins. But the fact that Swift chose this ‘60s pop single as her introductory music has even deeper impact for older fans who recognize it as a sort of proto-feminist classic… and who understand that the superstar is aware of her lineage among the female artists of history and the intergenerational aspirations she’s fulfilling. Plus, “You don’t own me” probably counts as one more subtle fuck-you to the people who bought and sold her catalog … on top of just being an Everywoman sentiment.

For a moment, she was heavenstruck, and then it just turned out to be a UFO picking her up and then dumping her. The production design is not going to any great lengths here, but it’s still fun to see Swift in an alien craft’s beam. Given the “crying at the gym” lyrics, it could only have better if it portrayed her being abducted off a treadmill.

The video backdrops aren’t really the main thing in the Eras Tour shows… except for “Anti-Hero,” which has a great assemblage of footage of Swift in very uncool vintage ‘70s wear, becoming like King Kong as she tramples across miniatures. It’s an elevation of awkwardness and anxiety as something to laugh about, if not celebrate.

The tour would merit an R for language, were it rated, so all the parents who brought young children to this show will never be counted as overprotective. But you can’t say any of them aren’t well-deployed as impact moments: “Fuck it if I can’t have him.” “What a shame she’s fucked in the head.” “Fuck the patriarchy.” (That last one was intended ironically, originally — it’s the emblem on her ex-boyfriend’s keychain, after all, and probably cited as an example of fake, performative feminism… but yes, it feels good to shout in a concert setting anyway.)

When the “Midnights” section begins, the props look almost comical: clouds on a stick, like a confection you’d buy at the fair. But, no joke, “Midnights” might represent a good example of saving the best for last, as it allows Swift to dig into a more sensual mode in an extended segment that feels much more relaxed than the rest of the show that preceded it. So when “Lavender Haze” kicks in, it’s like you’ve just been admitted to the best after-hours club in the world for a final half-hour or so of sheer pleasure.

Fan dances have a tremendous place in the history of show business, so the use throughout the night — from the first reveal forward — of giant feathers or flowing curtains or umbrellas to obscure and then reveal the star is part of a great tradition.

We’ve all heard about how one of the antagonists of the “Tortured Poets Department” album was obsessed with his typewriter, so it’s amusing to have that played out in the production design, as one of Swift’s handsome dancers is too concerned with his typing to pay attention to her. (Even as one of those tilting stages she once claimed not to like threatens to unbalance both of them.)

No stunt cars are harmed during the making of this number, which is partly a paean to the vengeful “Blank Space” music video, and partly “Tron” remade as a relaxed ladies’ bicycle outing.

The wrist appendages given out to entering patrons mostly just create vast lightfields during the show. But it was a fun moment during “Lover” when, on either side of the stadium, red heart shapes would form up in the loge sections as a special effect.

For the final shows in Vancouver, fans congregating in Facebook groups tried to come up with group efforts to surprise the star. One of these that succeeded was a call-out for attendees to bring in orange balloons, to blow up and illuminate with their phones, in salute to what was happening on stage with her dancers and their orbs. It was lovely, and though she rushes offstage at the end of that number, there can be no doubt she noticed the gesture.

Every night, in an extended speech before “Champagne Problems,” Swift would talk about dreaming things up during the pandemic, even being “never sure if we were going to get to do this again.” A good reminder not to take any of this — the Eras Tour, or live music generally — for granted. Not that every single ticketholder wasn’t well-aware they were the embodiment of privilege.

There is a rocker within Swift, and you can feel it in the heavy, percussive riffs of “I Knew You Were Trouble” or “…Ready for It?” It’s just that they aren’t always played on electric guitars. On the Eras Tour, these staccato riffs were played by sudden plumes of smoke or fire as much as by instruments.

Some cities went further than others in embracing the tourism that descended on their towns, but most found a way to jump on the joy bandwagon. On the final weekend of Vancouver shows, the city turned its seawall sign into “Swift-couver,” then erected 13 large, lit-up signs around the whole downtown area, signifying different song titles. Finding them all gave visiting fans something to do during the day — Easter eggs as a civic thing. (This appreciation went both ways: Swift was known to have given to local food banks along her routing, though these donations weren’t publicized unless the recipient did the revealing.)

Someone put a bunch of work into making you feel that good for that fast-passing moment between strangers.

Swift didn’t throw a lot of tricky numbers-crunching into the Eras Tour. But going into the final weekend, a widely circulated meme pointed out the fact that the number of days that had elapsed between the time her master recordings were sold and the final night of the Eras Tour was… 1,989 days. Coincidence, right? — given the slim odds that the 1989-day milestone would arrive on a Sunday in late fall, in order for Swift to be able to deliberately schedule it as such? As Glinda would say, don’t make me laugh. Only Swift could turn something that has its origins in an eff-you-forever moment into one of the most joyful mass experiences — maybe the most — in the history of pop.