Matty Healy Channels ‘Tortured Poet’ at Glastonbury with Taylor Swift Nod
A masquerade of gilded syllables drifted from Matty Healy’s lips as he claimed the Glastonbury stage on June 27 in a moment that felt half-sermon, half-sonnet. The 1975 frontman—tattoos peeking beneath a rain-kissed jacket—paused mid-set to confess, “I probably am the best songwriter of my generation,” before crowning himself “a poet, ladies and gentlemen.” Such grand declarations, captured by Variety, struck fans as a knowing wink to Taylor Swift’s latest opus, The Tortured Poet’s Department.
Healy’s lyrical flourish seemed to echo Swift’s own lines in “The Tortured Poets Department” title track: “You left your typewriter at my apartment / Straight from the Tortured Poets Department.” In that ballad, Swift immortalizes her ex’s “tattooed golden retriever” spirit and scribbled verses—imagery Healy duplicated live, sipping from a pint and promising, “these lyrics, this poetry I bleed for you.” His self-styled “generational wordsmith” statement didn’t mention Swift by name, but the parallels felt too precise to dismiss.
Amid the festival’s rolling hills, Healy also sported a Peter Pan pin—a symbol both he and Swift have used in recent lyrics. Swift’s TTPD track “Peter” gently draped a cloak of childhood myth over her romance, while Healy has long likened himself to the boy who never grows up. Fans pieced together this fairy-tale interplay: was this another gentle jab, or a wistful salute to their brief 2023 liaison?
The poetic barbs don’t end with Glastonbury. In June 2024, Healy became engaged to model Gabbriette Bechtel, yet the specter of his high-profile pairing with Swift lingers in each verse he unleashes. Back in October, on the Doomscroll podcast, he refused to mine his personal lore—“I’m just not interested in it,” he said—but his Glastonbury proclamation suggests otherwise.
Swifties, ever the detectives of detail, have mapped multiple songs from her vault—like “Lavender Haze” and “Peter”—to this chapter of her love life. Even her Joe Alwyn era finds echoes in the duet “Exile” on Folklore, penned under the pseudonym William Bowery. Yet it’s Healy’s public poetry slam on a muddy stage that has tongues wagging and quills scribbling conjecture.
This sonic tapestry—part confession, part provocation—places both artists in a curious dialogue across verses and stages. Will Healy expand his self-anointed poet laureate role, or will Swift respond with another cryptic track? Only the next chord will tell.
And so, the melody lingers, awaiting its next stanza.
Sources: Celebrity Storm and E! Online, Variety, Doomscroll podcast, Taylor Swift official lyrics
Attribution: Creative Commons Licensed
