Category Archives: Madonna

Madonna: The MDNA Tour Review

Even when it comes to Madonna, I’m somewhat hesitant to describe anything related to pop culture as a truly “spiritual experience”. Yet that is exactly the journey she takes us on for her current MDNA Tour. Watching from the sidelines of the TD Garden in Boston (and slightly behind the stage, thank you Ticketmaster), I felt the gradual upward trajectory of the show in a more fully realized manner than almost all of her previous tours. Say what you will about her singing or acting or on-and-off-again English accent, her power and command as a live performer have always been well-earned givens. The woman knows how to put on a show.

It opens hauntingly, with hooded monks in high-heels swinging an over-size incense holder while the Kalakan trio (whose soothing harmonies ground the show at integral points throughout the evening) intone an introductory chant. A convincing video backdrop of a Cathedral rises to the ceiling, a surprisingly effective use of technology that works wonders in filling the stage space with arresting visuals. To the bracing sound of shattered glass, a crowned and veiled Madonna takes aim at the audience with a rifle before blasting into ‘Girl Gone Wild’ with some slick and sick choreography. In some ways, it’s classic Madonna, cavorting in tight formation with shirtless dancers, as the briefest of references to ‘Material Girl’ and ‘Give It To Me’ give way again to the pounding beat of ‘Girl Gone Wild’. An ingenious set of platforms that rise and fall gives a powerful vertical element to the proceedings, (even if those of us behind the lights can still barely see).

The provocative gun-play of the set that has caused so much controversy thus far rears its head with ‘Revolver’ and ‘Gang Bang’, the former finding Madonna and her handkerchiefed band of girl friends brandishing fire-arms while her electronically-altered voice eerily rings out, “My love’s a revolver, my sex is a killer, Do you wanna die happy?” For ‘Gang Bang’ she hops atop a seedy hotel room scene, dispatching invading entrants with another gun and graphic splatters of blood on the video screens.

It’s an ultra-violent beginning that finds retribution in an all-too-brief snippet of ‘Papa Don’t Preach’, because when you go against patriarchal authority, the punishment is swift and inevitable – in this case, doled out by a set of frightening masked marauders who proceed to tie Madonna up and literally string her along a slack line, upon which she sings a disturbing version of ‘Hung Up’. She does a bit of perfunctory line-walking, barefooted and brazenly, because she gets her kicks when she’s walking the wire.

Closing out this gorgeously dark vignette is the defiant ‘I Don’t Give A’, in which Madonna boldly faces her audience head-on, a guitar strapped around her neck, and a middle-finger extended for all within sight. Nicki Minaj makes her first video-guest-appearance, decked out in religious garb, rapping and wrapping things up with the declarative, “There’s only one queen, and that’s Madonna.”

As the ominous chanting returns for its dramatic climax, Madonna rises slowly on a platform, as a cross glows crimson behind her. In a long career of successful visual-arrests, she captures yet another iconic image. The lights go dark for the briefest of moments (everyone knows Madonna shows just don’t stop) and the impact of this scene is stunningly powerful.

A rather dour interlude follows, with a mash-up of ‘Best Friend’ (an under-appreciated track from the deluxe edition of ‘MDNA’) and ‘Heartbeat’ (from 2008’s ‘Hard Candy’) to the accompaniment of graveyard scenes in moody black-and-white ~ a metaphorical death-knell for what came before, and a chance for Madonna to make the most drastic costume change of the evening, into a white and crimson majorette uniform. She marches up to center stage, leading a merry pep squad in front of cartoons of caricatured women subversively turned into images of power and humor. It’s a fun moment for fans old and new, echoing her triumphant Super Bowl performance and breathing new life into a classic song. She segues (ahem, seamlessly) into a quick snippet of Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ – not in an ungracious or unkind way at all, and even her final few lines of ‘She’s Not Me’ seem more tongue-in-cheek than antagonistic, a throwback to the cheeky minx who once wanted to ‘rule the world.’

A marching band descends from the rafters – no, really – for her latest Top Ten hit ‘Give Me All Your Luvin” and it’s a truly transformative version of the song, given extra pep and vigor – invigorating and effervescent – especially when delivered with all the energy and bombastic dance moves she pulls out of her too-fit-to-be-fair ass. The pom-pom popping routine she throws down at the apex of the runway brings the crowd to its first crescendo, a welcome relief and release from the serious beginning. The infectious energy continues with current single ‘Turn Up the Radio’.

While I initially thought this would be one of the more elaborately staged songs, she goes the opposite way, in a straight-forward  rendition sung from center stage, with nothing but a black outfit and guitar, and somehow it works, the music and the song taking flight, and the audience riding the crest of another colossal pop wave. Suddenly, I’m transported to catching a snippet of ‘The Virgin Tour’ on television some 25-plus years ago. I can still remember that Saturday afternoon, sitting in the wood-paneled family room and watching this dynamo of a woman singing and dancing with joyous abandon. I did a little dancing around the room that day too, and at each of my darkest moments of the past quarter of a century, there’s always been Madonna, imploring me to simply ‘Turn Up the Radio’ and promising the brief escape of a pop song, the momentary salvation of music.

The Basque vocalists of the Kalakan Trio resurface for a wonderfully re-imagined ‘Open Your Heart’, the 80s gem getting a sparkling, almost acoustic make-over. It grows into a rollicking highlight, building up to a rousing percussion-driven chance for the dancers (and her son Rocco) to step up their high-kicks a few more impressive notches. There is healing here, especially after that deliciously brutal start – healing and joy – and this turning point is one of almost spiritual transcendence. She traditionally pauses here, the first time she gets personal and talks, and it’s always a crap-shoot on what she’s going to say – gay rights, Pussy Riot, imprisonment – but tonight she keeps it on the light, and Boston-specific side.

“You guys are crazy!” she begins. “I’ve been coming to Boston every time I’ve been on tour,” she continues, extolling the virtues of freedom of expression, saying it’s okay to be gay and okay to be whomever you want to be, and that she hopes it will stay that way – a none-too-veiled reference to the upcoming Presidential election. She may not watch television, but the woman knows her current events. “Are you going to let crazy shit happen in this country” she asks, demanding a “Fuck No” response that we are all crazy enough to give her. “Are you going to let crazy shit happen in this country??!” Fuck No! “Except me!” she says with a devilish grin. A beautiful rendering of her Golden Globe-winning ballad ‘Masterpiece’ follows – and then a sexier, darker, cheekier, hotter-than-the-original version of ‘Justify My Love’ plays as a video interlude.

Photo by Kevin Mazur.

It’s a stylish intro for the Madonna of the now-almost-retro 90s, and no song opened that decade with a bigger bang than ‘Vogue’. It struts its stuff here in all its fashion-forward elegantly black and white glory, with Madonna updating her Gaultier bustier with a stiff leather cage-like structure, at once androgynous and fiercely feminine. A more-delicious-than-expected adult take on ‘Candy Shop’, featuring a few all-too-brief quotes from ‘Erotica’, continues the divine decadence, proof that Madonna’s live performance can lift her most mundane and melody-lacking songs, such as ‘Human Nature’. I understand that this is one of her ultimate non-victim fuck-off songs, but she does it much better when there’s a driving beat and actual melody (as in ‘Express Yourself’). 

One of the most hotly-debated performance pieces is her new take on ‘Like A Virgin’. Having done everything from lampooning it Cyndi Lauper style, masturbating on a red velvet bed, Dietriching it out in top hat and tails, and riding a virtual horse, there’s not much more to be done for the song, but Madonna strips it down literally and figuratively, turning it into a plaintive piano waltz, and crumbling to the floor before enacting a dramatic tightening of a corset around her waist. This may be what’s polarizing audiences for the MDNA Tour. Madonna is not interested in looking back and chirping the same songs in the same way, and her artistic integrity, and own personal truth, are such that she never could.

Those who hate this anything-but-shiny-and-new version are those who haven’t taken the time to delve into the deeper, complex glories of the MDNA album. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting to hear your favorite Madonna classic performed in the style to which you’ve grown accustomed, there is little challenge in that for an artist like Madonna. ‘Like A Virgin’ is, at its heart, a wistful longing to be made whole again, to retrieve that innocence and freshness that time and life inevitably ebbs away, and, in this seering version, the realization that sometimes you simply cannot go back.

After this spell of darkness, and an equally moving/disturbing video montage for ‘Nobody Knows Me’, the power of the beat – and the dance music that brought so many of us to her in the first place – is a welcome rejoinder in ‘I’m Addicted’ , one of the top cuts off MDNA. Her Joan-of-Arc metallic costume of armor glistens in its Swarovski-crystal-studded magnificence, and her braided warrior-hairstyle is a brilliant match for the throbbing song.

Love has always been Madonna’s drug of choice, and as the lights swirl about the audience and the inevitable dance break explodes, love is not only a drug, but a battlefield as well – one that remains a dizzying fix for a woman who still seems to have a lot of fight left in her.

Hardcore Madonna fans like myself will love this tour because it’s so MDNA heavy (and that album is easily her best since 2005’s ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor’). Nothing exemplifies that more than the gleeful romp of ‘I’m A Sinner’, given an Indian slant as it morphs impossibly, yet perfectly, into a B-side (‘Cyberraga’) from the ‘Music’ sessions. That song was previously in the bottom-five of those I ever wanted to see done live, but here it works brilliantly with the backing of the Kalakan trio. Coupled with some breathtaking video backdrops, this is where the journey nears its completion, and we have indeed reached a new plane.

I can’t help but smile as Madonna shakes a tambourine along to the Kalakan Trio, and we ride that happiness into an absolutely magical moment of transport that soars with one of the greatest pop songs ever written.

“Life is a mystery, Everyone must stand alone,” she intones, yet we are all standing together. Giving a traditional and true reading of ‘Like A Prayer’, Madonna stages one of the grandest sing-a-longs of the night, touching us as if it was the very first time, made more powerfully poignant as it comes imbued with all of the ensuing years of hard-won wisdom. It brings together new and old fans alike, the entire arena standing and singing and basking in the joy of the moment. 

The night ends with ‘Celebration’, a cut from her 2009 Greatest Hits collection of the same name (for those keeping track, that would be her third Greatest Hits compilation). With its musical echoes of opener ‘Girl Gone Wild’, it brings us full-circle, and it certainly does feel as if a journey has been completed – an ever-engaging, always challenging, entertaining-as-hell journey – and no other pop star has ever commanded a stage in such scintillating fashion.

There are those with greater musical talent, those with sharper dance skills, and those with more current relevance, but there is only one Madonna – and there always will be.

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Make Me Squeal

At about this time (okay, probably two hours after this time) Madonna will be taking to the stage in Boston for her MDNA Tour, and I will be shrieking in my high-pitched teenage-girl squeal that I adopt when these sorts of events come up. Andy will be looking at me and laughing. And then we will both be watching the Queen put on the Greatest Show on Earth.

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L-I-V-E Madonna!

Today’s the day! Madonna comes to Boston ~ my favorite performer in my favorite city. Bow down bitches.

If you’ve ever wanted to hear me scream like a girl, come within 50 feet of North Station tonight.

 

 

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Touched for the Very First Time

You always remember your first time. In my case, it was about eleven years ago, at what was then called the FleetCenter in Boston. Yes, the old Boston Garden is where I popped my Madonna Concert cherry, right next to Suzie, who was squealing along with me in high-pitched shrieks and girlish giggles. It was the Drowned World Tour in the summer of 2001, and as the lights went down and she rose into view, singing my favorite Madonna song of all-time, I froze, and my eyes welled up just a little bit. After idolizing and adoring this woman all of my life – literally from the age of ten (‘Material Girl’ was one of the first songs I was cognizant of remembering) – she now stood before me, alive and in the flesh, and I thought of all that had brought us both to that moment.

It remains, mostly for sentimental reasons, my favorite Madonna tour. It was heavy on songs from her best album to date, ‘Ray of Light’, and it was my very first time seeing her, so the whole evening had a magic to it that has yet to be topped. I would have more fun at other tours (Confessions), but Drowned World would be the standard to which all of them would slightly fail to measure up. She even sang ‘You’ll See’ that night – one of my top ten Madonna songs – in place of the usual (and lackluster) ‘Gone’ – marking the second moment I almost lost it.

The thought of this lady, then a newly-married mother of two, standing alone on that stage, commanding the love and adoration of millions, yet still feeling her way through heartbreak and abandonment – it moved me in the way that she so often does, in the way that no one quite seems to fully understand, and in a way I’ll keep close to my heart because it doesn’t deserve to be so publicly analyzed.

Tonight marks the 8th time I’m seeing her live in concert, and I’m certain I’ll feel the same thrill, as I’ve felt the same anticipation for the previous weeks. From the clips I’ve seen of the show, it’s going to be killer…

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I Did A Little Dance

This is how I felt upon seeing The Writing page installed this morning. Oh, and this too.

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It’s Always Been About the Words

Behold the latest stroke of genius by Webmaster Skip in the form of The Writing portal, now seen in the navigation bar of this website. More than photography and Projects, fashion and accessories, it’s always come down to the writing for me. Words will continue to be the most important tools we have for connecting to each other, and in the end that’s the whole point of the internet, at least this little part of it.

Please take a look at The Writing page and check out the fabulous layout Skip has set up. You’ll note that currently we are a bit Madonna-heavy on the content, in celebration of her MDNA Tour (and I cannot wait to add that review to the pantheon). We’ve also edited down the number of articles, so as not to overwhelm or utilize mediocre filler. What remains are a select few of my favorites.

“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.” Markus Zusak

“Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?” Oscar Wilde

 

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Back to Boston

Not that I’ve ever needed a reason to return to Boston (again and again), but when Madonna’s in town, well, it’s a given that I’ll be in town. Though I’ve passed the fanatical devotion that allowed me to recognize Cloud and Tamara on Boylston Street when the Confessions Tour rolled around in the summer of 2006, I still get a major thrill from seeing my favorite performer live. (Sad to say I wouldn’t know one of her dancers if I met them on the street this time around… and if anyone knows anything about the elusive Mr. Hobby, please let Suzie know… her daughter claims he was a teacher at her school or something, and I guess we’re trying to determine who was lying.) At any rate, we’ll be back in Boston today, and just in the nick of time – I’ve been craving a Zuni Roll from the Parish Cafe.

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Madonna & A Monday Massage

Tomorrow Andy and I return to Boston, for the return of Madonna and her MDNA Tour. Needless to say, I am very excited, but I’m also slightly deflated as our seats appear to be behind the stage… or with a very limited side view. No matter, we’ve seen her before, and I’ll see her again in NYC, so we’ll just dance and sing to the music.

Before that, however, a bit of Labor Day relaxation in the form of another massage. It is said that true peace and contentment can only be found within, and there is surely something to the practices and benefits of yoga and meditation and simple exercise – but I’m after a quicker, lazy-man’s version of this – the kind of inner peace and tranquility that can only be found in a massage, where the work is all done at the hands of someone else. To that lovely end, I’ve scheduled a session at ‘etant: A Spa for Well Being‘ in the South End. It’s just a few blocks away from our place, and the perfect entry back into Boston. I’m not sure how it will compare to the heights of ecstasy found at the Mandarin Oriental, but any massage is better than no massage.

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When In Doubt, Do Madonna

A quick note of congratulations to my friends Wally and Carolyn, who welcomed their baby boy Brandon Wallace into the world, on Madonna’s birthday of all dates. With a blessing like that, this child is destined for greatness.

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #74 ~ ‘Dear Jessie’ – Spring 1991

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}


Baby face don’t grow so fast
Make a special wish that will always last
Rub this magic lantern
He will make your dreams come true, for you
Ride the rainbow to the other side
Catch a falling star and then take a ride
To the river that sings and the clover
That brings good luck to you, it’s all true…

Once upon a time I played the oboe. I wasn’t horrendous at it, but I certainly wasn’t the best. The oboe is not an easy instrument to play, and its temperamental home-made double-reed nastiness is not the easiest thing to master, but I did my best. No teacher in the Amsterdam School District had a strong-enough background in the oboe, so if I was to excel I had to get private lessons from someone outside the area. My goal, half-concocted by my parents to pad my extracurricular activities for my college career, was to make it into the Empire State Youth Orchestra.

Thus began my oboe lessons under the tutelage of a Mrs. Green, who lived a few towns away, in Ballston Spa. It was about a 45 minute trek through the back roads and winding woods of upstate New York, heading from Amsterdam towards Saratoga. Not at all an unpleasant ride, if you’re making it for happier reasons than weekly instrumental lessons, and not the most fun in the treachery of winter, but a pretty enough journey nonetheless.

It can also be a long road when a tortured adolescent is not speaking to his family, so perhaps both my Mom and I were glad for the silence-filler of Madonna on perpetual play. For some reason, this song stands out as representative of those journeys, especially in the spring to summer of 1991.

A cut from her majestic ‘Like A Prayer’ album, this was Madonna at her most sensitive and thoughtful, singing whimsical lyrics in a love letter to childhood. With its orchestral intro, string-laden melody, and brass bridge breakdown, this was closest to a ‘classical music’ song that Madonna has ever attempted. As such, it’s an anomaly in the Madonna canon, but a gorgeous one.

Pink elephants and lemonade,
Dear Jessie hear the laughter running through the love parade
Candy kisses and a sunny day,
Dear Jessie see the roses raining on the love parade.

The back-story is that Madonna wrote this for the daughter of her main producing partner at the time, Pat Leonard (the person responsible for some of her most powerful and iconic songs, such as ‘Like A Prayer’, ‘Live to Tell’, and ‘Papa Don’t Preach’.) In that respect, it marks one of the only Madonna songs that is clearly about a specific, and named, person; usually she takes the universal route, one of the calling cards of lasting pop songs. Leonard was an integral part of the now classical period from 1986 to 1989 that cemented Madonna as an icon, and this song is the least she could have done for his child.

It doubles as an ode to innocence and the magic of being a child. So much of Madonna’s persona has been tinged with a childlike, slightly mischievous, impetuous nature (the very anti-thesis of the coldly calculating woman that many mistakenly believe her to be) that this is, remarkably, a rather revelatory dreamscape of pretend.

If the land of make believe
Is inside your heart, it will never leave
There’s a golden gate where the fairies all wait
And dancing moons, for you
Close your eyes and you’ll be there
Where the mermaids sing as they comb their hair
Like a fountain of gold, you can never grow old
Where dreams are made, your love parade
Pink elephants and lemonade,
Dear Jessie hear the laughter running through the love parade
Candy kisses and a sunny day,
Dear Jessie see the roses raining on the love parade.

For me, it was a last grasp at a childhood that was fading just as that Spring and Summer matured. In the car on the way to those oboe lessons, the afternoon sun rendered dappled beneath the bright green canopy, I sat in the backseat, reading or grabbing a nap or simply looking out the window, watching for the tell-tale signs of the seasons. The land seemed greener then, less hot and dry, and summers stretched out without any end in sight.

I honed my oboe skills, learning to make my own reeds by hand, running beeswax alonog the string, soaking the stems until malleable, delicately shaving off the tips to find the perfect sound. Reed-making was as much about luck as science for me, a tricky little part of being a decent oboe player. While other oboe-players ordered pre-made reeds, I was not allowed such ease, and it made me a better player. I understand the result of hard work, and how much more it meant. That summer, I practiced and improved, and by Fall I was ready to audition. Even if I wasn’t as good as the first oboist (I eventually made it into the Repertory Orchestra, and then the Youth Orchestra), I had the satisfaction of knowing how to make a double reed, the pride in crafting my own sound, from my own hands.

On the merry-go-round of lovers and white turtle doves
Leprechauns floating by, this is your lullaby
Sugarplum fingertips kissing your honey lips
Close your eyes sleepy head, is it time for your bed
Never forget what I’ve said, hang on, you’re already there…
Close your eyes and you’ll be there
Where the mermaids sing as they comb their hair
Like a fountain of gold you can never grow old
Where dreams are made, your love parade

It paid off, and whether it was the oboe or my grades or my application essays, I made it into every college to which I applied. (I still remember the recruiter from Boston College challenging me as to what extra stuff I had to offer the school, to which I said I was in several orchestras: “Yeah, but unless you play something like the oboe you’re not that different from everyone else – what instrument do you play?” Yeah, the oboe.)

My heart, however, did not belong to the instrument. I didn’t like performing in concerts (I was a nervous wreck), and I didn’t have the drive or ambition to go much further than the college orchestra at Brandeis (which I was dragged into after much kicking and screaming, and only for one year). I also didn’t have the love for the oboe that a truly great musician must have. The orchestral stints, the practicing, the reed-making – they were simply a means to an end – the end result being getting into a good school. It was a cold and calculated move, devoid of the passion and heat of which any worthy artistic endeavor should be comprised. There was a lesson there too, a very valuable one.

I’d gone into Brandeis with a vague notion, mostly instilled by my parents, that I should major in something scientific. While it was no secret they’d have been thrilled if I went into the medical field, I wanted nothing to do with that. Up until that moment, I’d done what I supposed to do – and my oboe playing, even with its moments of enjoyment, was not something I would have pursued on my own. When given the chance to give it up, I did. Not with anger or resentment, but with the realization that it wasn’t for me.

The same went for my scientific career. After a tough ‘Brain: From Molecules to Perception’ course, in which I managed to go from an ‘F’ to an ‘A’ in the course of a semester, I had to admit that my strengths were not in the sciences, but in the realm of words. It was exactly the opposite of the vision my parents had for, and about, me. I went to my adviser, and changed my major at the end of the second semester. I felt relief, freedom, happiness, and hope. It was the first of many moves where I went against what I was supposed to do, and in the end became richer for it.

Pink elephants and lemonade,
Dear Jessie hear the laughter running through the love parade
Candy kisses and a sunny day,
Dear Jessie see the roses raining on the love parade.

Madonna was leaving her past behind too, saying good-bye to the 80’s – the decade in which she ‘ruled the world’ – and entering the brave new world of the last decade of the century. The rocky period of adulthood loomed ahead of both of us. For now, though, there was this song of childhood. We could hold onto it for a little while longer.

Your dreams are made inside the love parade
It’s a holiday inside your love parade.
Song #74: ‘Dear Jessie’ – Spring 1991
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #73 – ‘Turn Up the Radio’ ~ Summer 2012

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

Looks like I jumped the gun on this one by talking about it a few days in advance, but I had no way of knowing that the next random selection of the iPod would be the one I just referenced a week or two ago. This is a historic occasion, as it marks the first time the Madonna Timeline selection lines up perfectly with the current Madonna single. It’s a testament to her endurance, and a fantastic selection for a summer anthem.

When the world starts to get you down,
And nothing seems to go your way,
And the noise from the maddening crowd
Makes you feel like you’re going to go insane
There’s a glow of a distant light
Calling you to come outside
To feel the wind in your face and your skin
And it’s here I begin my story…

This is, at first glance, classic carefree Madonna at her dance-poppy best – a return to her ‘Holiday’ roots, where it all began some 30 odd years ago. (For those who doubt her legendary status, think about this: it just entered the Billboard Dance chart as her 60th entry there. That’s right, 60.)

Turn up the radio
Turn up the radio
Don’t ask me where I wanna go
We gotta turn up the radio

Madonna has never been one to look back – it’s one of her most admirable qualities, and the very thing that has kept her forward-moving career on that one singular track. A lot of her fans would have her simply repeat former-glories, but that’s never been her way. Even if she winks back at what she’s done (as she does both in this song and its accompanying video), she’s never been about the past.

It was time that I opened my eyes
I’m leaving the past behind
Nothing’s ever what it seems
Including this time and this crazy dream.

She’s also been about the power of a pop song to transcend its limited boundaries, becoming an epiphany unto itself – the very act of escapism as its own goal – and ‘Turn Up the Radio’ re-asserts her mastery of the genre. I’m not going to claim there’s anything ground-breaking here, and those who have never been under her spell may cry banality (like they always do when dissecting her lyrics), but the glorious majesty of a catchy melody wins out. Score one for ear candy over lyrical dinner. And yet there may be something deeper here…

I’m stuck like a moth to a flame
I’m so tired of playing this game
I don’t know how I got to this stage
Let me out of my cage cause I’m dying
Turn up the radio
Turn up the radio
Don’t ask me where I wanna go
We gotta turn up the radio

At first I thought this was going to be a straight-forward reading of a perfectly-crafted summer pop ditty. The infectiousness is there, the timeliness is present, the video is a slightly nostalgic reminder of the simple premise of having a good time, but the last few times I was listening to this (in the shower, of course, and in the car), a new reading struck me.

I just wanna get in my car
I wanna go fast and I gotta go far
Don’t ask me to explain how I feel
‘Cause I don’t want to say where I’m going…

Maybe it was the rocky start to this season, and the resulting melancholy (the nightmare of jury duty still haunts me), but it suddenly seemed that this song wasn’t just about having a good time, it was about insisting upon it – begging, pleading, and crying for it. This wasn’t a simple ode to a joyful moment. This was a desperate cry for escape and deliverance.

It brought to mind Adrienne Rich’s poem ‘The Ninth Symphony of Beethoven Understood At Last As a Sexual Message’ in which the poet turns the ‘Ode of Joy’ by Beethoven into a harrowing description of rage and anger. This was what I was thinking about when trying desperately to get back into the song, to find the joy again. I found myself singing, and then screaming, along with these very lyrics, this part right here, and I couldn’t tell the tears from the shower water or the rain, I just pounded wet fists against whatever would withstand them.

Turn down the noise and turn up the volume
Don’t have a choice cause the temperature’s pounding

As the percussion trampled with its stomping beat and the music raced to its inevitable release, I tried tearing a hole in my despondence, ripping away at the heart that gave both light and darkness, inconceivable happiness and inconsolable sorrow, in a dance of desperation ~ a dance to the death of something.

If leaving this place is the last thing I do,
Then I want to escape with a person just like you

The torrents fall down, the world crashes around, and like flotsam I feel like I’m floating in the lost abyss of an open sea, drifting and flailing and powerless to the ebb and flow of a life swirled beyond my control.

Bopping around like a moth to a flame,
I’m so sick and tired of playing this game

And I cling desperately onto the silly things that once mattered, that once seemed to make all the difference, and nothing seems to help. It is all so pointless, so futile, so damning – and so we fight for the fun and escape, for the way out of our miserable little lives, for the only way we know how.

We gotta have fun, if that’s all that we do
Gotta shake up the system
And break all the rules,
Gotta turn up the radio until the speakers blow.

Song #73: ‘Turn Up the Radio’ – Summer 2012

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #72 – ‘I Want You’ ~ Fall 1995

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

I want you the right way
I want you, but I want you to want me too
Want you to want me baby
Just like I want you…

The Fall of 1995 marked a transition period for Madonna. After the chilly years following the Erotica/Sex furor, she had rebounded slightly and was on the precipice of making one of her signature transformations (into Eva Peron). In preparation for that, she released a collection of her ballads, entitled ‘Something to Remember’. Personally, I’ve felt the key to Madonna has always been hidden within her slow songs, when lyrically she gets to be a little more introspective, and sonically we hear the strain and heartache in her voice.

As with her other best-of collections, there were a few new tracks, and the album kicks off with one of them, ‘I Want You’ – a slowed-down trippy take on Marvin Gaye’s soulful classic. Given the Massive Attack treatment, it picks up where ‘Bedtime Stories’ left off – in that sizzling electro-fizzing soundscape that is both intimate and distant. In her great pantheon of moody music, this may be one of her moodiest. As such, it was one of my favorites at the time it came out, though the ensuing years have lessened its scope and power.

I’ll give you all the love I want in return
But half a love is all I feel, sweet darling
It’s too bad, it’s just too sad
You don’t want me no more
But I’m gonna change your mind
Some way, somehow…

There will always be something beautiful about solitude for those of us who have had to endure it. It’s not always pretty, it’s not always easy, it’s not always fun, but it carries its own beauty. The beauty of longing.

Most of us have had those moments, waiting for the phone to ring when it never does, yearning and hoping and fighting the hopeless battle to fight all those feelings, giving in and giving up, crying to yourself, and crying into your pillow, and draining your body of tears and fluid and the ability to feel.

How much have I wanted, how much have I yearned, and how much was ever returned? That kind of deficit can never be made up, no matter how many people come to love you. A whole world of love can never fill that emptiness, and when someone tries, when someone starts to love you back, you’re never entirely sure what to do with it.

One way love is just a fantasy
To share is precious, pure and fair
Don’t play with something you should cherish for life
Oh baby, don’t you wanna care?
Ain’t it lonely out there?

I don’t recognize that person anymore. Vestiges certainly remain, after-effects linger, but for the most part he is gone. Practicality, maturity, or simple exhaustion wore out those charged emotional fields years ago. Overwhelmingly, this has been a good thing. At odd times, I miss it. I miss him. I miss the ability to access that kind of ferocious pain, those nights of endless want, these moments of heightened feeling. I miss the sense of being alive… I miss the sense of want.

From our earliest cognition, it is what most of us have done: we want. Whether love or material possessions or understanding or compassion or comfort or happiness, it has always come down to want. Selfish, demanding, all-encompassing want – for him, for her, for those, for that, for more and more and ever more – for life. At the risk of all, I want for everything. It is the human condition. It will never be enough.

I want you, the right way
Want me, baby
Don’t play with something
You should cherish for life.
Song #72 – ‘I Want You’ ~ Fall 1995
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The Madonna Timeline: Song #71 ~ ‘What It Feels Like For a Girl’ – Late Winter 2001

{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}

Girls can wear jeans, cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, cause it’s okay to look like a boy. But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly, you’d love to know what it’s like, wouldn’t you? What it feels like for a girl…

So quotes Madonna in the intro for her 2001 single ‘What It Feels Like For A Girl’, from the autumnal ‘Music’ album. It’s an excerpt from ‘The Cement Garden’ and it’s brilliant, throwing a defiantly-feminist slant into the whole equation, and investing the proceedings with more than a dollop of serious intent.

Silky smooth
Lips as sweet as candy, baby
Tight blue jeans
Skin that shows in patches
Strong inside but you don’t know it
Good little girls they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weak?
Do you know what it feels like for a girl?
Do you know what it feels like in this world, for a girl?

Above gently-percolating beats, and the fluid, musical techno-wizardry of Guy Sigsworth, the melody is a loose and light one, almost at odds with the rage boiling just under the surface of the words at play. It is a plaintive cry for understanding, coupled with the realization that there may never be understanding – the conundrum of being a girl in today’s world – and, perhaps, yesterday’s world- expressed through the words and music of a woman who’s been every girl: Material Girl, Bad Girl, Mer Girl, and Girl Gone Wild.

The way Madonna conveys that ache and yearning is the hallmark of what makes her so amazing, not just as a woman, but as an artist. Within this song is both an admittance of vulnerability and a beacon of self-sufficiency – the power and the weakness of being a girl.

Hair that twirls on finger tips so gently, baby
Hands that rest on jutting hips repenting…
Hurt that’s not supposed to show
And tears that fall when no one knows
When you’re trying hard to be your best
Could you be a little less?
Do you know what it feels like for a girl?
Do you know what it feels like in this world
What it feels like for a girl?

She has said she wrote it while pregnant with her first son and thinking of her first daughter, wondering how it must be for a girl growing up in this world ~ how hard, how beautiful, how sad. As she matures into her mid-fifties, no one knows that difficult journey better than Madonna. Now, as attacks come based solely on her age, and the fact that she’s a female (how else to explain the cruelty of jabs about her arms, her body, her refusal to go away?) the song has an even deeper meaning. This is one of the great, and often over-looked, strengths of a Madonna song – they evolve through the years, taking on different meanings, and revealing nuances that grow and bloom as time unfurls.

To controversially accompany the song, Madonna filmed a gritty Guy Ritchie-directed video, set rather sorely to a harder-edged remix, which works in one way, but might have been much more powerful with the gorgeousness of the original track as its backing. Juxtaposed with all the intense imagery, the beats become the focus, and the lyrics are shamefully lost. Still, it’s a wild, entertaining ride, with numerous little dirty winks at the audience, and it demands repeat viewings to get it all in.

Strong inside but you don’t know it
Good little girls they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weak?

The song was released in the late winter of 2001, just before Madonna was set to embark on her first tour in eight years, ‘The Drowned World Tour‘. In that pocket of time just before spring arrives, heartache resonates a little more, and the hopeless/hopeful push and pull of this song, and its shuffling undertones of melancholy, may be more deeply felt.

Do you know what it feels like for a girl?
Do you know what it feels like in this world… for a girl?

Song #71: ‘What It Feels Like For a Girl’ ~ Late Winter 2001
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My First Piece of Madonna

This was my very first Madonna poster. It hung in my childhood bedroom in the summer of 1991, so this is sort of a summer memory – the summer I came to love Madonna. It was right around the time when ‘Truth or Dare’ was released, and the movie won me back into the Ciccone fray. Then and there I became a fan for life. True, I had always adored her music – and she was the first artist whose albums I listened to and loved in their entirety – but this was the first piece of pop icon memorabilia that I deigned to put on the wall – as much for its content as for its own artistic merit (how cool is this for a poster?)

It was a good summer, for the most part, one of the last before adolescence got in the way and things really fell apart, and I remember staring up at this poster on my wall late at night, lying on the floor in front of the air conditioning vent, idly reading the immensity of ‘David Copperfield’ and living, in my head, the horrors and fascinations of Dickensian England. Those nights, spent in solitude with the door closed, and the lights on, were both a relief, and a prison. I looked out onto the street, hidden and obscured by the darkness, and the thick leafy expanse of an ancient, thorny hawthorn that rose up to and beyond my second floor window. A street lamp glowed on the island in the middle of the road, throwing its chemical light over the grass and pavement.

The world beyond my window was supposedly a dim and frightening one, but I couldn’t wait to enter it. On some nights I would sneak out the kitchen door, steal into the night, and wander the neighborhood streets. Prowling into the earliest hours of the morning, when most of the houses were already asleep. Once in a while the light of a television would flicker on the ceiling, or someone would be on their front step smoking. We shared the secret chambers of the sleepless. There was a camaraderie among those of us out in the darkness, an unsaid connection between anyone whose province is the night.

Back in my bedroom, Madonna watched over things until my return. I looked up at the glow from my window, wondering what others saw, wondering if anyone noticed.

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