Is Taylor bigger than the Beatles?

This is a reaction to Rick Beato reacting to the NYT's interactive piece about Taylor Swift.  

The charts are simply too different now and any attempt at statistical comparisons feels misguided.  How can we compare physical single and album sales from the 1960's with the mosaic of metrics that contribute to chart rankings these days?  Among other things, as noted by the NYT, in today's market anything on the radio can contribute to a chart ranking, regardless of whether it is officially released as a single.  When Taylor Swift releases an album, nearly every song on it will appear on the Hot 100.  But The Beatles would have done the same had those rules been in effect in their prime. Considering the amount of airplay that even the Beatles' deep cuts receive over the decades, it's not a stretch to suppose that under the current rules, they could have had double or triple the Number Ones or Top Tens that they actually did.  

As you'd expect, Beato tackles the issue from the songwriter and producer's perspectives.  All the Beatles' Number Ones were written by one of three people.  All their best-known records were produced by the same person.  Taylor Swift has collaborated with about ten producers and creative partners.  The claim is that her hits are an amalgamation of styles and ideas (Aaron Dessner/Taylor Swift tracks sound like Aaron Dessner, Max Martin/Taylor Swift tracks sound like Max Martin, etc.), as opposed to the Beatles essentially coming up with all their ideas themselves.  On one hand, producers have been getting the upper hand, credit and fame-wise, for at least the past twenty years in pop music.  Max Martin, Ryan Tedder, and Timbaland are household names who have often overshadowed the artists they collaborated with or produced.  On the other hand, Taylor Swift may have worked with the best, but what was the common thread joining all those disparate elements?  It's too easy to dismiss her achievements by claiming that she had lots of help.  But most artists are lucky to find even two or three outside collaborators who really "get" them, that they can have a deep, creative rapport with.  Swift has found a way to adapt her songwriting to an incredible variety of styles, spanning well over a decade of phenomenal success, while working with an amazing bunch of people who all have precisely one thing in common: her.   Madonna's career could be characterized in much the same way.  When you're the common thread connecting Jellybean Benitez, Lenny Kravitz, Shep Pettibone, William Orbit, and Mirwais, then you're the secret ingredient more so than any single person on that impressive list. 

Personally, at the moment I'm more interested in the legacies of these artists.  When I was growing up, it was practically a given that the Beatles were the biggest band of all time, with a popularity and cultural impact that was unlikely to ever be surpassed.  And now, more than sixty years after their debut record, people are still talking about them.  Will people be talking about Taylor Swift in sixty years?  I think that with the shrinking pool of current pop stars and the startling rise in catalog sales, it's never been harder to predict an artist's future legacy.  Has there even been less of a consensus about which contemporary albums are entering the canon?  Which albums will be most valued going forward, listened to even by people outside of their fan base, simply because that music is considered a necessary part of any serious music fan's vocabulary?  Perhaps that's an ignorant question, considering I don't really listen to new albums anymore.  

In today's climate, you simply never know when a chance meme can boost Fleetwood Mac's popularity thanks to its discovery by a new generation of listeners, or when "Running Up That Hill" can become a megahit after nearly forty years following a placement in a popular TV show.  I happened to listen to some Neil Young this week.  Is Neil Young's legacy on the rise, or in decline?  I have no idea. I feel his critical peak was reached in the early 90's, when he was hailed as the godfather of grunge and lo-fi rock.  But he's released another twenty five albums since "Ragged Glory"!  His career wasn't even at its midpoint in 1990!  Is he becoming more legendary as a timeless elder statesman of rock, or is he watering down his legacy with each passing year and each album that goes nearly unnoticed?  One can list off countless artists in this vein.  Fifteen years ago, it felt like Lady Gaga was a generational phenomenon who would dominate the charts and the tabloids for as long as she wanted.  She's great and hasn't even hit the age of 40 yet ... but it already feels like she's well into the post Superbowl halftime show legacy artist phase of her career.  She hasn't had a non-duet Number One hit since 2011 ("Born This Way").  Will her music be recognizable in 2040 to people born this year?  I really have no clue and am not sure how to even search for the answer.