My roommate recently cashed in a small surplus of frequent flyer miles in exchange for free subscriptions to Maxim, Entertainment Weekly, and The Wine Spectator. This means that somewhere in the past few months I’ve developed an involuntary process of assessing my Cabernet’s astringency while contemplating suggested methods to please Evangeline Lilly if she ever for any reason found herself lost in my apartment. However, I occasionally brush up against a fascinating fluff piece that makes me forget about all the air-brushed skin I’m apparently missing out on in Los Angeles. This week that fluff was none other than soda sensation Taylor Swift, and not only her adoration for vinyl LP’s, but her astonishingly decent taste in music.

Entertainment Weekly shadowed her on an excursion to The Great Escape, an independent record store out of Nashville, TN, in an article naturally called “Record Shopping With… Taylor Swift.” The article, opening with “Her curls peeking out beneath a gray knit beret,” seemingly begins like the first chapter of a Jean-Paul Sartre novel, but quickly ventures to a scene of Tennessee locals gazing at the country-pop star as she mulls over taking Bruce Springsteen’s Magic or Working on a Dream on the road. In a surge of indecision, she opts to get both, but we all know she should wise up and walk away with the Nebraska album. Is it fair to be faintly surprised at Ms. Swift sifting through Boss records at a mom and pop record store in America’s Mecca of country music?

As with my blithe affinity for young adult literature (e.g. It’s Kind of a Funny Story, King Dork), I can’t help but taste a delightful hint of vinegar beneath the cherry-flavored tears of pop country artists like Taylor Swift and the Dixie Chicks (Shut Up and Sing was by far my favorite documentary of  ’06). This isn’t to say you’ll find me drinking to CMT on weekends and holidays, but for a genre I rarely throw a bone to, it scratches on my door at the most startling of moments. All my favorite songwriters, like Ben Nichols (Lucero) and Adam Stephens (Two Gallants), carry a certain level of grain not just in their words, but in the presentation of such poignant lyrics. Every once in a while I get a fragment of that grit I so enjoy in a Taylor Swift song while in line for a coffee or pack of cigarettes for a friend I owe a favor. It’s sadly never in the music though. It’s always in some random verse like “You’ve made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter,” that pulls at my ears but then fades in to obscurity like a snowflake on the tongue. Of course, these intermittent coals are always out-shined by squeaky clean everything else.

When Taylor Swift, Natalie Maines, or any other pop princess drops a one-liner that could slide so easily into a Ryan Adam’s b-side, I don’t know whether to offer kudos or hide and blush. Some great lines are only great in context of the artist though. For example, the same charmingly cheesy lyric belt from Rivers Cuomo (Weezer)  would probably flatline from the lips of Chris Carrabba (Dashboard Confessional), but sometimes we dismiss something we might otherwise enjoy due to an artist’s reputation for what we don’t. Others develop Postal Service syndrome and cease liking an old favorite band when they become everyone else’s new favorite.  But I digress:  the topic at hand here is relating in some small way to an artist I’ve never cared for, or even cared for caring for (I really want to like Modest Mouse, but I really don’t, regardless of how much I might want to).

So I guess what I’m saying is YES, I am a bit surprised at Taylor Swift picking up the Black Keys’ “Rubber Factory” on vinyl to play on the turntable she adamantly takes with her on tour, even though she confesses to buying it with Ryan Adams’ “Easy Tiger” based solely on the pink and orange pastels.

I know it’s presumptuous to try to infer what sits in an artist’s collection based on what kind of music they write and record, but it’s almost equally as crass of an artist to continue feeding us the bread and water of pop/rock when they’re so blatantly feasting on the steak and eggs. It’d be like finding out Dr. Seuss was buying up all the Proust paper backs at Barnes and Noble. I couldn’t help but feel a bit duped, though I must admit to still owning The Butter Battle Book (that book does own rather hard!).

All of this is obviously somewhat facetious, but nevertheless, the only Swift you’ll see me leaving a bookstore with is Jonathan. On the other hand, I’ll no longer roll my eyes, but instead tip my hat, to Taylor while looking for the newest Swell Season. Although, if she and her blonde curls ever want to have dinner I now know a great wine that would pair well with that gray beret of hers.

Subscribe to CultureMob (above) to receive weekly email updates on events in and around Seattle, or follow our SeattleMob blog on Twitter.