During the three times I listened to Taylor Swift's new synth pop album, 1989, I felt like I was being screamed at for over an hour. Her vocals are amplified above all else, and generally what that all else is are loud block waveforms of electronic pop. Often, she is shouting politely, to boot. Her yelps are more BratCitibike than Bratmobile, but they add to the racket, nonetheless. Her voice is to my ears what fluorescent lights are to my eyes.