My Life, My Career, My Dream, My Reality
The other evening was, in short, so astounding that i'm still struggling to comprehend it. i don't know where to begin. After making something like one hundred and eighty six episodes of i wuz there1, documenting thousands of performances around the world, i think it's safe to say that last night was one of the greatest shows i've ever seen. In league with Amy Winehouse, Refused’s return to America at the Glasshouse in Pomona Ca, Rage Against the Machine's reunion in 2007, Snoop and Dre, Radiohead's 25th anniversary of Ok Computer, Nils Frahms, the Sex Pistols, the magick of Paul MaCartney, and so many other legends2. The final night of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. One for the history books.
i'll admit, like countless others, i spent a considerable effort trying to find a ticket. i wasn't even lucky enough to simply register for the sales on Ticketmaster. To be granted a fan account that would let me have access for even a chance to attempt to buy tickets. And i tried multiple times, for different nights, coordinating with friends to increase our opportunities. i even considered flying overseas to catch a show. Each sale sold out in seconds and made Eras the most successful, and in demand tours of all time. Landing any seat was borderline impossible, and resell rates were absurd. Hope was as low as prices were astronomical.
While i am, by no means in league with her biggest fans, i've always appreciated Miss Swift. i can still remember the first time i heard one of her singles. There's a phrase i have describing songs that become instant favourites. “The Smells like Team Spirit Sensation,” When you hear a tune so powerful it transports you. They cut through the noise, stop you dead in your tracks, and change you. Perhaps overheard passing on the radio, or from speakers at a club or restaurant. Taylor's song "You belong to Me" knocked me to the stratosphere.3
i was grabbing groceries in a scuzzy supermarket, when the opening banjo chords sliced through through the riff raff. At the time i was playing bass in a punk band, living in squalor. The lyrics and the energy were undeniable. Taylor captured a captivating, full-fledged romantic comedy in just under four minutes. The stanzas encapsulated the feelings of tossing and turning, torturing yourself in unrequited teenage love before falling to a restless sleep. Distilling the overwhelming sensation of an adolescent crush to a complex bouquet perfume. Standing in a frozen food section i was slingshotted back to nostalgic daydreams. How i used to yearn after the alluring, seemingly out of reach, goddesses that walked the halls of my high-school. The infatuation, the enchantment. Constant plaguing fantasies of a storybook romance, unrealized, unseen, out of reach, and accursed. All packaged in a perfect pop song.
You Belong with Me would cross my path over the next few years. A call, a glimmer, unintentional, usually in public, always a joy. In an ironic twist (that i'm now a bit ashamed of) from there, Taylor went unnoticed by me- just like the character in her song. Appreciated only in moments where she was thrust directly to the forefront of my mind, though far from thought otherwise. The rest of her tremendous work not given the attention, or adoration, it deserved. Years later, while hitchhiking West across the US, i caught a long ride from Denver to Ashland. The driver, now friend, played Taylor's first three records on repeat. And i had to admit, while they weren't exactly my cup of tea, her songwriting formidable, lyrical mastery undeniable, and albums amazing.
Since then i've kept a casual eye on her releases. 1989 had some major spins, i loved the songs, and enjoyed cover versions by other artists (Tillman, Adams)4. While i enjoyed her records, her music again, fell from my rotation. Until a month prior to the pandemic, i went through a sudden, major spell while at a writing retreat in Morocco. That dive into her discography cemented her as my go to pop artist, filling a blank space when i had an itch for sugary music with a little more substance.5 Her surprise Folklore and Evermore records caught me off guard and had me down bad. Complex, lyrical, sweet poetic sorrowful folk songs, records i didn't know i needed so badly. A lover, but undeserving of the Swiftie moniker.
And i wanted to see her perform. Wanted to feel the ambience of the songs i admired chorused from a crowd. So when Eras was announced for Vancouver, i made every effort, save for bankruptcy. i refreshed relentlessly, spoke to a few marketplace and craigslist scammers, however i tried, tickets remained ever out of reach. After watching excruciating drops to shows i couldn't even get verified for, i'd had enough. i've gotten into some of the most unobtainable tours and festivals before, no ticket, no problem6. Sharpie in hand i raced to the stadium, made a sign, and got hunting. All to no avail. i stood outside of the first performance until i heard You Belong With Me. Despite the muffled sound it was still a thrill, though not good enough. It didn't count.
The next day i wanted to give up before i even got to the venue. But there i stood. Tired, a migraine ringing, the cold biting, i was about to leave when a woman offered me a ticket for the following night, the finale. One of the most sought after events on the whole tour. A "No View" seat situated behind the stage, she grabbed my number, said it wasn't guaranteed, that her cousin might claim it though i would be next in line. i spent the whole night waiting for her call. Debating whether or not i would give that ticket away to my little sister and have to try again for myself. The Sun rose, and no text arrived. With no contact details i had to accept it wouldn't come to fruition. The clock struck three, hours before i'd attempted the other nights, the gates however would open after four for zealous fans. It was the last night, the final stop, and i had nothing to lose. Outside the window, the rains halted, and i rallied.
i couldn't give up. i knew there was still a moment to be had, knew there was a way to mastermind this, and so i stood. Under my toque i hide my headphones, i was prepared to stay put alongside the snaking line for hours. i pulled from every experience in my arsenal. With a deep breath i summoned a blend of patience, persistence, and confidence cultivated over years of hitchhiking around the globe, sneaking into impossible events, and raised my sign. Scribbled sharpie stated i was after a single ticket, that a no view seat would absolutely be fine. To be honest, given my financial situation, probably preferable. i had a pocket full of cash that i was willing to drop, though far from enough for any ticket of value.
i slapped a smile on my face and raised a single finger in the air. A move i'd learned from Deadheads. A technique fanatical tailgaters would use to get into Grateful Dead shows. Broke fans would walk around with a single digit in the air to draw a spare ticket for themselves to the show. Often free, or cost price, it was a fan to fan exchange of kindness. it'd worked for me in a Phoenix parking lot when i went to see Dead Company in 20187, and i had hoped it would happen again. The forefinger was also used in some South American countries instead of the thumb to hitchhike. Hacer Dedo, with the finger, pointed in the direction you wanted to go. i stared above my nail, at the tip, and conjured as i had long ago.
Like an unobtrusive statue, i waited with a smile on my face, hand up, and headphones on low. Loath to admit it, i wasn't listening to Taylor. Instead i had a playlist of wu-wu podcasts about manifestation and visualization cycling between my ears. i stood knowing, waiting, finger in the air like an antenna, tuning to whatever hypothetical frequency my ticket was moving in. Swimming in an open eyed meditation. i knew with full certainty it was coming to me, that i would be inside before long.
The Universe was quick to wink. A passing Swiftie in a folklore cloak called out from the line, "You a Deadhead?"
"Yeah!" i smiled.
She beamed a knowing grin, "you'll get in, here," and ran from her spot to slip a friendship bracelet over my wrist. i thanked her as she scurried off "Don't worry, i'm manifesting for you!"
The sentiment of manifesting, and friendship bracelets would pour over me for the next few hours. i waited in joy. The first offer arrived faster than i expected. Two grand for a seat. i politely declined. Thirty minutes later a second emerged, sixteen hundred, on the floor. Washed in regret, i had to turn it down as well. i kept my spirit and sign up, another bracelet arrived. Eight minutes later the person who made the last offer came running back and asked for my number as a safety. In case they don't manage to sell their spare seat, they'd give me a call, and asked how high i could go.
Sheepish i replied, at maximum, face value, whatever that might be. Far beyond my budget, should lightning strike i wouldn't hesitate to seize it. A little disappointed by my answer she grabbed my digits anyways, we wished each other luck, and they were off.
Time passed without another bite, and night fell. The line was moving fast, more and more fans hunted the street for passes of their own. Two women waved me over from the queue. They had a bowl ticket for five hundred. It was so rare to see a ticket at all, especially for under a thousand dollars, still, way out of my price range. Era's tickets had been selling for tens of thousands of dollars. Getting to any of the stops on this tour, specifically this one, was compared to Super Bowl passes. The two told me that their tickets might not work, they had three on their phone, but had bought them off a dodgy reseller. There was some issue with the transaction so they were waiting until they were inside to complete the payment, and said i could as well. While it would break my budget, it was the final show, there would be no more chances. i smiled, and walked with them.
Our excitement built until we reached the gate, where of course the barcodes did not scan. We went to the box office, they showed the emails, the original buyers name, and still were denied. We asked about some of the surprise drops, any seats available that they could help us with, and were declined again, despite the women's tears and pleas. With a disappointed hug, and well wishes we parted, i returned to my perch and kept trying to find my way in.
Sign in hand, my smile rose again with my single finger. More bracelets came my way.
"So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it" Your On Your Own Kid - Taylor Swift - Midnights 2022
That single lyric started a movement amongst Swifties exchanging handcrafted bracelets across the Eras tour. My energy picked up with each one received. More wishes were sent my way, and i was collecting beads until my arm was crawling with them. Vancouver, Lavender Haze, Gorgeous, Tayl<3r. They built upon my signal. i channeled and channeled as people passed. From the concrete stadium walls i heard the echoes of opener Gracie Abhrams start. i didn't lose faith. As the third song closed a young fan skipped up and slipped another bracelet over my wrist. "Era's Karma."
Lo and behold, seconds later a text message from an unknown number echoed my thank you to the Swiftie. The fan that had offered the floor ticket for sixteen hundred said i could take it for face value. My heart stopped. An overload on the cell network had messages moving slow and data crawling. An email arrived, but the pass would not load into my ticketmaster account. To make matters worse, my cell phone battery had plummeted. As fast as i could i sprinted back to the box office. Even though i had the transferred ticket in my name on my email from an official ticketmaster address, and they could see the ticket hadn't been used, because the app hadn't completed the transfer they couldn't accept it. The attendants were as helpful as could be, gave me a charging cord so my phone wouldn't die, tried to problem solve with me, but still would not let me in. Inside Gracie Abrahams finished her set.
Hard copies weren't an option, and they suggested the seller cancel the transfer, meet me at the doors with their phone and bring me to the seat. The cell activity was causing chaos, but we managed to organize and i raced off.
It worked.
Inside the doors we hugged. The guards gave me a wristband, and i went to follow the seller. The woman stopped me, "No, no, i'm in a different section. This is a single ticket, for you alone."
Since i didn't have the pass in my account, i wouldn't be able to scan past security to get to the lower levels towards the floor. i had a large block wristband, which i assumed was floor access, but had had trouble with security moving within the stadium before at past concerts when i'd been separated from friends holding our tickets. i was stuck. The show was about to start and not wanting to miss a minute, the seller wasn't willing to help further. She texted me a quick screen grab that literally said, "Screenshots Wont Get You In" underneath the barcode. The young woman ran off and said to call if i had issues as i stood there, in front of the crowded concession stands, and massive toilet lines, stunned. i was so close, and yet still had hurdles to jump.
i looked to my wrist, at the bracelets, and fell back to the positive trance that got me through the gates. Things were on my side. i had years of experience sneaking into venues, festivals, vip sections, and backstage areas, this would work. Security would be tight but i could figure this out. i had to move in confidence.
So i went. Most people had made their way to their seats, and were already in the vicinity of their section. Miraculously the first batch of security to the lower levels had their backs turned to me. With a bored look on my face i marched right passed, pretending to be engrossed in my cell phone. Below, the next pair of guards mechanically gave me the next wristband. Their scanners were out, but they didn't bother to check my ticket. i hid my surprise and kept moving to the floor.
From the tunnel to under the dome was a rush. The energy alive and buzzing. A final set of security stood before my section, checking everyone that passed. i adjusted my jacket, maintained eye contact, gave a friendly nod, and didn't break my stride as i flashed the screenshot. A welcoming hand ushered me to the aisle. i found my seat and collapsed. The stage bulged like a diamond a few feet away. My legs ached, and heart thudded. i'd made it. i was stunned. i would have been thrilled for a spot without a view of the stage, this seat was better than i could imagine. Mere minutes later the lights dropped, and stadium elated. One of the most incredible performances i've ever seen began.
There was one thing i wanted to hear the most, more than any song, one single note, and it was more astounding than i'd imagined. The sound of the audience erupting when lights dropped was beyond moving. i came in blind, and i am so grateful for it. Avoided watching the Eras film, or clips online. i knew nothing more than it was an ambitious show, highlighting favourites across Taylor's career.
What i had assumed was a wristband denoting floor access suddenly came to life as Miss Armericana stepped to the stage. The bracelet hid LEDs attached to the lightning board, synced and popping to the music. It was absolutely breathtaking. Far beyond the beauty of audiences waving lighters or lit cellphones, the display lasted the entirety of the show. Immersing the united audience even further, every single seat a part of the spectacle.
Before i continue to speak of Taylor, we need to discuss the Swifties. First, i had had my misguided apprehensions, which i can admit were influenced by online slander, and trollish propaganda. Rare, if ever, do i embrace rabid fans, especially those that adorn their own moniker. Various media platforms predicted an unprecedented "take over the city," and "mass disruptions," amongst the bevy of lukewarm fear mongering. A mild normality for any other sporting event or mass show with obsessive fandom, we were told to brace for a severe irritant. The haters gonna hate. Outside the first show, i found quite the opposite. The Swifties were lovely, quiet, and dressed to the nines. Happy to be there (even those not fortunate enough for a ticket of their own), thrilled to play, and deck themselves out in their favourite era's attire. Donning what resonated, and represented them. They were having fun, giggling, waving. Didn't matter the age, the gender. Something within was shining.
Let's not for a second pretend that "extreme" fanfare doesn't happen in every other demographic. Be it the face painters dressing up in their favourite athlete's jersey at sporting events, cosplay at Comic Con, branded tractor caps at a farming conventions, eyeliner and leather jackets at metal shows, all fans are nerds, there's no way around it, and no shame. The Swifties, gotta say, just looked better. The effort, the energy, for many it was a defining event, outside the sphere of a normal concert or tour, and the majority were immersing as much of themselves in the experience as they could. No matter the outfit, the cloaks for the Folklore, the skin tight sequins for Reputation, the glamour, the cowboy boots, everything harmonized, it all worked. i tip my hat to it. i'm still caught up on the handcrafted friendship bracelets. A grassroots time consuming exchange of small handcrafted kindness with no purpose but to unite other fans with one another. There was no bad blood, only an accepting, healthy, family of friends.
Stylistically, be it in fashion or sound, the different Eras of Taylor are as diverse as her fans. Through it all a unique thread stitches everything together. An invisible string that had people come in droves to celebrate. The more i thought about it, the more sweetness i saw. One of Miss Swift's most profound skills is her lyrical ability. An overwhelming culmination of honesty and vulnerability conveys detailed, immersive, relatable stories, that capture intangible essences in between words, and often the very syllables that build them. She sings with inflections that say as much as her metaphors and entendres. The nucleus is a genuine belief in true love, and hope. And that's what unites the Swifties. Beneath everything, it tied each soul there. That singular confidence, not only in true love's existence, but that maybe, possibly, it could even happen to them.
The realization happened on the Friday. Witnessing that intense molecular yearning, and pure humanity made me take a shine to Taylor's fans. There was such a sweetness. Such optimism. Even outside the gates, no observed pettiness, no belligerence, no obtuse intoxication, or even toxic behaviour. Well wishes, hugs, acts of selfless kindness. It was inspiring. Better vibes then a Dead show, better energy than Burning Man. Undeserving of negative, unexamined criticism.
Inside every single damn person believed in that storybook true love- and longed for it (hell you can include me in that description too). i stood and listened to them sing. Belting words that had held them through the worst of times, danced them through the best, harmonizing with the exquisite storyteller who'd penned them all.
It was obvious ahead of time that December 8th, the final show, would be quasi-historic, but it hit harder than imagined. Each moment, each note felt the coalescence of every chord struck over the other hundred and forty eight times each song had been played leading up to that final performance. It felt like i was watching Queen's Live Aid set at Wembley. The same energy, the same excitement. And that damn show was only 20 minutes. This was over three and half hours of nonstop, and i mean no hyperbole, perfection. Bookended by the audience's euphoria, call and answer, and timeless tunes.
The show included 45 songs. Some of which i assumed (by looking at previous setlists) would be truncated to save time. They were not. Tay even played extended versions. Sure, maybe she skipped a verse here or there, but by no means was that noticeable. Not like some hip-hop artists that perform a single stanza and chorus then move on to the next track. As if that weren't enough, all of her dance numbers were meticulously choreographed, the costume changes fast and immaculate. More than a pop artist the show was like watching a finely tuned olympic athlete run through acrobatics to an endless, impossible song and dance.
The effort, and talent, still is inconceivable. If there were teleprompters with lyrics aiding Miss Swift they were hidden and unnoticeable on the stage. At first i thought Taylor's acoustic guitar was for show, until i heard her alone in the mix. Everything was so well orchestrated. So much so that it was borderline inhuman. Note for note. My attention kept finding itself land on her live band, scoping for a heavy hand of backing tracks so many other artists rely on. There was always someone playing. Even if they were triggering sampled electronic instruments, the notes were performed in real time. Taylor's guitar was on, and microphone live. She was extraordinary.
To be that physically active, remember all those movements, lighting, pyro and stage cues, in conjunction with the song lyrics and playing multiple instruments is astounding. It was peak performance. i've seen the greats, the Springsteen marathon shows, McCartney, Beyonce, Kendrick, the Stones... and Taytay deserves that legendary status. Outside of his unparalleled guitar playing, the closest artist worthy of comparison i can think of is Prince. Prolific, evolving, timeless songs, dance, vision, and skill. Taylor is a phenomenal performer, and inspiring artist. Unlike all those musicians, Miss Swift has she dominated over three distinct forms of music- country, pop, and contemporary folk. The stylistic shifts in her performance were seamless. We watched her gallop through genre after genre, outshining the greats. A master songwriter, flexing as she tossed the bar to new heights. Whether she was playing with her band, sitting at the piano alone, pacing across a stage the length of the arena in a highly choreographed dance number, she was note perfect. Even the King of Pop would've trembled. Both in financial tour gains (Era's trumps Michael's tours six times over), and hits (at date he has one more number one single than Taylor). But he wasn't involved in his own music in the same way. He could never swing a piano as hard as Miss Swift. The Beatles or Springsteen couldn't move or belt in the same way, Madonna playing guitar pales. Not even Kanye can continue to pretend to be a component in her success compared to her tenacious work and talent. No one is as multifaceted as Miss Swift, and her career is still in its adolescence.
The organization of Eras itself was a masterpiece. It moved like an elaborate play, with incredible set designs, themes, costumes, dances, as well as peak athletic abilities. The entire experience felt like an amalgamation of Taylors diaries as a teen to her journals as a distinguished adult. Welcoming tens of thousands into her psyche, to a celebration of her wildest fantasies, to witness her vulnerabilities, wounds, the evolution from a dreamer to master, child to adult, decked out in the greatest, most elaborate party, ball, night out, all of above. I doesn't seem real. To witness such an absurd, extravagant dream blossom into fruition. One that pushes boundaries of technology, design, musicianship, and human physical capabilities, as well as unites all walks of life with an open ear and mind
The consummate storyteller captured the Heroes Journey to the stage. A tale of a fully realized human. A young woman's transformation. Ups and downs, the hurts, the strength, self doubt, excitement, hard work, rising up against continual odds, and her version of victory. An invitation into a mind full of beautiful innocent fantasy. Not cowering from the years she lost herself. Drowning in glamor, success, and ego. To her resurrection, her return out from the woods. Where she shared her deepest truths, comforts, care for others, ambition, self-celebration, boundaries, and strength.
While Taylor's album Reputation had slipped by me with little attention, i was so impressed with it live. That was the most powerful, realized display of sexuality i've witnessed by a pop artist. Unlike most pop stars in the last few decades there was no thoughtless objectification, exploitation, graphic, revealing outfits, or explicit manoeuvres. Her posture screamed utter control, and total self knowledge, full self worth. Knowing how desirable oneself is, and leveraging that to get exactly whom you want. Many artists try and fail to capture the same attitude and power as Taylor's. A seduction of the highest magnitude, where the object of desire welds total control. inspiring onlookers to better themselves. An uninhibited confidence, proclaiming that she was coming after her own wants, for her own reasons, and that person was beyond lucky for grabbing her attention. Knowing she has nothing to prove, and nothing to lose, for those who fail to maintain her affection would fall away unworthy of another thought, much less a broken heart. You either recognize, and earn the privilege of favour, or miss out. The movement's and songs weren't grotesque, needy, or obscene. Simply mature, and unapologetic, dominating, but not domineering.
The peak of Taylor's journey was how she stood, and took on the industry where so many drowned. Fighting for her recording rights, a battle waged by all the greats. Instead of falling for the same traps, the legal chaos, she took the high road, and dove into the painstaking labour of rerecording her catalogue. A striking blow to a parasitic industry. That was Era's, that was the victory lap, the return home, atop of her mountain, celebrated. Taylor won with grace, and tenacity. Doing things her own way, regardless of the naysayers, proving many wrong. i must applaud her for how she bowed those that tried to tear her down.
As if that wasn't enough she regularly spread the wealth. Paid her crew's enormous bonuses, donated ample amounts of money to the cities she graced, and even dropped hundreds of tickets at the unfathomable price of twenty dollars hoping it would make it to the hand of a wanting fan. Seats that would be resold for thousands.
The most successful music tour of all time, an airtight vision from the artist, but also a gift to her fans. A robust walk through her career, genuine in its efforts to bring people together, for the best representations of their favourite songs.
i might be in the minority, but i think writing a single, great work of art is worth a lifetime. That could be one film, one role, one story, one album, one single song. i'll make an effort to see artists for a single great track. To perform 45 (not including medleys) songs that range from good to phenomenal is surreal. Not one bad song, (perhaps not my subjective favourite) was played. On top of that, there were a fair amount of songs missed in her catalogue i would love to see. That is an achievement that so few reach.
And what a journey it all was. The highlight of my evening was the unintended celebration concluding Miss Swift's performance of Champagne Problems, unaccompanied on piano. Tears ricocheted during an endless seven minute plus standing ovation, including Taylor herself. Not even halfway through the show, the gravity of the evening broke the veil. Mask came off, her guard dropped. A tour of the most ambitious performance, highlighting a lifetime of painstaking work, embraced with the most honest appreciation and gratitude by people who travelled from all corners of the globe. Few artists will ever create work as impactful, less will live to see the inarguable positive consequences. Those minutes will remain burned in my memory.
That moment between songs somehow surpassed what i think is the most impressive part of the entire evening. Two unique stripped down surprise songs were performed each night of the tour, never to be repeated. Miss Swift challenged herself to learn deep cuts, rarities from her catalogue. One on piano, the other on an acoustic guitar. If you look at collected lists that's over two hundred songs (some repeated within medleys, adding to the complexity), that is astounding. Those are numbers well outside of the scope of songs the majority of artists learn for a single tour, and these were "bonus" parts of sets8. It must be mentioned again the absence of teleprompters aiding her memory.
During a piano medley of Long Live / New Year's Day / The Manuscript (her final set of surprise songs, all three the closing tracks of albums, the Manuscript the last song of her most recent record... little brilliances that details everything she touches), i caught a peculiar man staring at me from the aisle. He wore the strangest look on his face, one of anguished longing, and extended his hand. The woman seated on my left rushed to him, and the pair slowly danced to the ballad. We'd spoken before the show, and mentioned her husband also had a floor ticket but they hadn't been able to sit together, forcing them apart for the evening. In retrospect , i wish i had offered to trade. They made a profound part of the performance somehow even more special. She told me after the show that Long Live was her favourite song, and he had stolen away to find her for that adorable moment.
The entire audience was incredible. In a three hour show (i know i keep repeating but, it's so noteworthy) not a soul sat. People from all ages and walks of life sang word for word, the entire stadium boomed. The spectators often louder than the performers themselves.
It was an evening i won't soon shake off. The lights, the pyro, the stage setups, the surprises, every note, each song, i lack the words to describe them. Transcendent, perhaps the closest. An astounding vision painstakingly brought from the ether by a young artist that shook the globe. It was nothing short of an honour to have attended and bear witness to one whose accomplished so much, set the bar so high, armed with nothing else save for her heart on her sleeve. i walked away inspired not only to be a better artist, but a kinder person in tow. It was the glorious end of the era. May these pages serve as a humble toast to an evening that closed a chapter worthy of the history books. Two words left to tie the bow. Thank you.
Thanks for Reading!
- Mr. Write
Liked this? On Spotify? Be sure to check out completed podcast series: i wuz there! Documenting every single concert i’ve attend!
Can’t stress enough how many gems there are on the show above.
On the other side of the coin, theres the more negative "Smells Like Teen Spirit Syndrome" which describes songs i love that have been overplayed to death, and never want to hear again.
You'll find Taylor had regular rotation on Iridescent FM (on another Spotify Exclusive), hell even covers of Shake It Off were added early Rituals of Love performances.
i know this is getting annoying, but you really should check out i wuz there... especially in the 2010’s for some wild stories.
https://www.billboard.com/lists/taylor-swift-eras-tour-surprise-songs/
^Created by user u/anonyswift https://pastebin.com/RQu5zaz