Category Archives: Music

{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.}

LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT
LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT
LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT
REJECTION, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT

Late fall 1994. We had passed the point where there might be a warm day here or there. The leaves had mostly fallen. Nothing could hold any heat. The first man I had ever kissed had dumped me and I didn’t even realize we were going out. Ignorance saves some hurt, but you only get a pass that first time, and sometimes not even then. My awakening to the fact that I was gay had begun and it was hardly reason for celebration.

I DON’T, DON’T CARE IF IT’S NOT RIGHT
TO HAVE YOUR ARMS AROUND ME
I WANT TO FEEL WHAT IT’S LIKE
TAKE ALL OF YOU INSIDE OF ME

(DON’T GO NEAR THE FIRE, DON’T GO IN THE DARK)
(DON’T GIVE IN TO YOUR DESIRE, ‘CAUSE HE’S GONNA BREAK YOUR HEART)
(LET GO, LET GO)

I’d been leaving campus and riding the commuter rail in to Boston to see him. Now I did it to see the places we’d gone and wallow in the misery of it. What else was November for, really? The gray days and dismal weather added to the melancholy. I relished it. All that was at Brandeis was a cold dorm high in a castle turret, shaped like a piece of pie, bound by painted cinder blocks, and a small row of high windows that made Boston look like a speck in the distance. At night that space glowed, offering hope and warning and bitterness. Madonna’s somewhat doleful ‘Bedtime Stories’ album offered a gauzy aural cocoon of sonic warmth – whether it was the loss of ‘Inside of Me’ or the brutal solitude of ‘Love Tried to Welcome Me’ or the saccharine-sweetness of ‘Take A Bow’. Along with ‘Sanctuary’, these were re-structured love songs dealing with loss and regret and the tricky aftermath of romance. It might have been all about ‘Survival’ but I wanted so much more. At the tender age of nineteen, I’d had my heart broken and had broken a couple of hearts as well. I used to pretend there was something worse about the latter, but that’s not true. Guilt is awful, but loss is worse. There’s no bonus for trying to gain sympathy if you’re the one who ended it.

IN YOUR EYES (IN YOUR EYES), FORBIDDEN LOVE
IN YOUR SMILE (IN YOUR SMILE), FORBIDDEN LOVE
IN YOUR KISS (IN YOUR KISS), FORBIDDEN LOVE
IF I HAD ONE WISH LOVE WOULD FEEL LIKE THIS (LOVE WOULD FEEL LIKE THIS)

“The love that dared not speak its name,” as Oscar Wilde so delicately described the proclivity of those of us who enjoyed sucking cock, was instilled with all the forbidden enticement and defiant decadence that had always left me fearful yet intrigued. There was no doubt I was gay – there never had been – but I’d done my best to stomp it out, to go for the girl and the white picket fence and the blasted nuclear family because it was all I knew to do. We lived in a different world then.

From the very first time I saw one of the older kids in our neighborhood strip off his shirt and jump into the pool, I knew. It was summer then – so much of our youth seems to take place in the summer – and the world was warm and happy and gay. He dove underwater, his muscles rippling in the dappled light of the pool-filtered sun, and I knew. Enthralled and intoxicated, I drank his image in like the sweetest nectar, and somehow it wasn’t even sexual yet, not that yearning. It was a want and desire that was innate and primal, it was from the very core of my being, the soul that had been born when I was born. I knew.

I KNOW THAT YOU’RE NO GOOD FOR ME
THAT’S WHY I FEEL I MUST CONFESS
WHAT’S WRONG IS WHY IT FEELS SO RIGHT
I WANT TO FEEL YOUR SWEET CARESS

He swam away, into the deep end, his pale skin so tantalizingly different from my own tan body, like some rare, elusive sea creature, some white whale forever unattainable and unassailable, and my eyes followed. Lost in a chlorine haze, blinded by sun and beauty, choking on the feeling and wanting to both laugh and cry, I stayed in the shallow end and waited for his return.

When he did, my brother and I cajoled him into playing with us – roughhousing, as the adults called it. He’d pick us up – each so light and easy in his hands – and fling us into the deep end, our little bodies flying into the air and crashing into the body of sky-blue water. It thrilled us. Not just the motion, but the giddy focus of an older person intent on thrilling us. For me, it was much more.

I’d swim back, dizzy and delirious from the sun, the water, the flight, and the fight to make it back to the surface. Circling his legs, I felt both like the shark sizing up prey, and the scattering prey itself, darting to avoid death. I didn’t know what I wanted, I only knew he entranced me. I’d wrap my arms around his thigh, brushing against his swimsuit, and he’d lift me up again and off I’d fly. I didn’t know what was better – the lift or the let-go. Or the time in the shallow water when I was close enough to smell his sunscreen and see the blue of his sparkling eyes and the way his blond hair went dark when wet.

IF I ONLY HAD ONE WISH
LOVE WOULD ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS
WISHING ON THE STARS ABOVE
FORBIDDEN LOVE
IF I ONLY HAD ONE DREAM
THIS WOULD BE MORE THAN IT SEEMS
FORBIDDEN LOVE (FORBIDDEN LOVE)

Summer fades quickly. So does youth. The pool filled with oak leaves, then acorns, then it was closed and dark. Buried in the muck and mess of the ensuing winters, my childhood disappeared. Now, in the impending winter that came at the end of 1994, I was alone again. Summer felt very far away. The neighborhood boy I had watched, worshipped, and held onto had long ago moved somewhere else.

Back then it seemed like figuring out I was gay was the answer to everything, and in some ways it was very much the solution to much of my angst and confusion. So many things suddenly made sense and fell into place, so many fears and worries and anxieties dissipated and dissolved. Once it was done, though, what was next? The notion of forbidden love had already been bound inextricably to who I was, that sense of shame would forever be part of me. In that cold, late fall, it felt like loneliness and heartbreak were all that followed. Still, better to have loved and lost…

(LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT)
(LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT)
REJECTION IS THE GREATEST APHRODISIAC

Was the forbidden nature of the societal constructs of same-sex attraction part of my inability to find love? Had the ingrained stereotypical confines of how the world viewed homosexuals bled so deeply into my being that they would be impossible to eradicate? Or was I simply unlovable? That last question was one which most people had at some point in their lives; the questions before are the added and much more complicated journey through which only some of us must travail. At such a young age, I couldn’t get my head around all of that – to be completely honest I’m not sure I can today – all I knew was the dull ache of unfulfilled desire, and the infuriating sense of loss when there had been nothing to really lose.

(LOVE WITHOUT GUILT, LOVE WITHOUT DOUBT)
LOVE SHOULD ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS
HEAVEN FORGIVE ME, NEVER FORBID ME

SONG #150: ‘Forbidden Love’ – Late fall 1994

{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.}

LET’S DANCE, YOU CAN DO A LITTLE TWO-STEP
I’LL GO ANYWHERE THAT YOU STEP TO, ‘CAUSE I’M FOLLOWING YOU.
MY FEET MIGHT BE FALLING OUT OF RHYTHM,
DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING WITH THEM, BUT I KNOW I’M FOLLOWING YOU.

I suppose I should be grateful that Part 1 came before Part 2, otherwise it might have been awkward. As it stands, this Madonna Timeline will prove difficult enough, so I’m going back to basics, reminding myself of what this blog feature was originally meant to be. An encapsulation of what was going on in my life when a certain Madonna song came to prominence – whether that was in the world, or in my private life. In this case, it will mostly be my own little memory, as ‘Now I’m Following You, Part 1’ made about as big an impact as ‘Now I’m Following You, Part 2’ – which is to say not much.

It formed the main lip-syncing portion of Madonna’s Blond Ambition tour, appearing in the Dick Tracy segment. The period feel of the music and innocence of the sentiment is all fully intact in Part 1. We’ll get to Part 2 in another timeline.

UNLIKELY AS IT IS TO ME, ON THE FLOOR WITH TWO LEFT FEET
LET’S BOOGIE WOOGIE TILL OUR HEARTS SKIP A BEAT, BUT WHO’S COUNTING?
ENCORE, ONCE AGAIN AROUND THE DANCE FLOOR
ROMANCE IS IN THE PICTURE TOO, NOW I’M FOLLOWING YOU.

TAKE IT AWAY, BOYS.

‘I’m Breathless: Music Form and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy’ was released in the spring of 1990 – just as the movie was about to come out, and Madonna was riding high on the wings of ‘Vogue’ and the Blond Ambition Tour. It was one of the most iconic moments, following as it did on the heels of ‘Like A Prayer’ and presaging the sexiness of ‘Erotica’ to come. That spring melted into a hot and sultry summer. Sticky and humid like all upstate New York summers, when the air hung thickly with the sweet scent of mockorange and fringe tree. The decadence of ‘Vogue’ brought the masses to the showtunes of Stephen Sondheim, who helmed a trio of songs on the album, while Madonna and Patrick Leonard fashioned their own selection of convincing period music, which included ‘Now I’m Following You, Part 1.’

I loved that album – its moody theatrical bent combined my love of Broadway with my love of Madonna – and it came with me (in my mind only) when I visited the then-Soviet Union. Upon my return, I resumed its non-stop rotation.

Oh, I almost forgot the most notable part of this song – it’s a duet with Warren Beatty! What is Mr. Beatty doing singing on a Madonna song? La publicidad! And maybe some romance was actually in the picture too – who can say? Dick Tracy was a hit for both of them, even if it cost a lot to make, restoring some silver screen luster to Madonna’s rather rusty track record. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, this appears to be a rather sweet period in Madonna’s career and romantic life. She was tottering on the verge of mainstream Disney approval, and maybe playing it so safely bothered her. She would eventually take the road less travelled, which is what most of us loved about her, leaving Disney in the dust and provoking the Gods of Sex into orgasmic, damning glory. But that was a year or two away. For now, they danced until the record skipped…

UNLIKELY AS IT IS TO ME, ON THE FLOOR WITH TWO LEFT FEET
LET’S BOOGIE WOOGIE TILL OUR HEARTS SKIP A BEAT, BUT WHO’S COUNTING?
ENCORE, ONCE AGAIN AROUND THE DANCE FLOOR
ROMANCE IS IN THE PICTURE TOO, NOW I’M FOLLOWING YOU.

OH DEAR…

SONG #149: ‘Now I’m Following You – Part 1’ ~ Summer 1990

{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.}

It was autumn of 2002. Andy and I were on one of our fall trips to Ogunquit, Maine. I was browsing in an antique store when the proclamation came over the radio. Between an ancient case of costume jewelry and a box of plastic-covered sepia-toned movie posters, I paused as the announcement interrupted the music. America was going to war. It struck me how old-fashioned the world suddenly felt. Even though this was the era before FaceBook and Twitter and social media as we now ubiquitously know it, an emergency message over the radio felt like a nostalgic throwback to another time. The imminent war also heralded the return of American soldiers to losing their lives in such regularity that we would become numb to it.

By the time the spring of 2003 arrived, the country had reconciled itself to a fate that felt impossible to escape. Duped by the war-happy GOP-led administration, national pride in the aftermath of 9/11 led to all sorts of evil decisions and hapless public support. Despite the objections of sensible people, despite the unnecessary cost of a war based on unreliable data and outright lies, America embarked upon a War on Terror – a war which is being waged to this very day. Such was the battle-drawn background of Madonna’s ‘American Life’ album, and the scene into which the lead single of the same name was dropped.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?

Spring was in the air – it smelled of possibility, of hope, and of a new beginning. I had been working at the Thruway Authority in an office full of men – a far cry and another world away from the office I had left, which had been filled mostly with women. I had free parking about 50 feet from the building entrance and was able to drive myself to work – a luxury of independence that I both cherished and fought against. (It’s nice to be driven around, especially in the cruel cold of winter or the blazing heat of summer; coming out to a car parked in an unsheltered lot all day in either situation is a pain in the ass.)

I was somewhat new to the job, and as I moved up in my state career every fresh start would be familiar territory, though never comfortable. It’s tough to be the new guy in the office, especially in your early 20’s. Shot through with insecurity, I leaned on my go-to inspiration for all those times when an extra dose of confidence was needed: Madonna. Her new album was being released, and after the block-buster success of her last musical endeavor, the ‘Music‘ album, it seemed she was ripe for a full-on embrace of Mirwais, the French electro-pop genius whose stuttering, vocoder-heavy work was the sound of the future.

I TRIED TO BE A BOY, 
I TRIED TO BE A GIRL 
I TRIED TO BE A MESS, 
I TRIED TO BE THE BEST 
I GUESS I DID IT WRONG, 
THAT’S WHY I WROTE THIS SONG 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE?

Once upon a time, controversy meant nothing but success for Madonna. Think the ‘Like A Virgin‘ scandal, the ‘Papa Don’t Preach‘ maelstrom, the’Like A Prayer‘ explosion, the ‘Justify My Love‘ brouhaha, the ‘Erotica‘ album and ‘Sex‘ book – all of them were controversial and sometimes polarizing, and all were more or less splashy successes. (Even if some were critically drubbed, all of them made Madonna a pretty penny.)

When ‘American Life’ came on the scene, at such a questionable time of war and American pride, it found Madonna uncharacteristically pulling the video to avoid the commercial death of the Dixie Chicks who had had the audacity to criticize President Bush. The mind reels at such an innocent thought. Madonna made a wise decision in that respect, but the damage had been done, and mainstream radio turned on her, and has yet to really come back. Strangely enough, the song ‘American Life’ is not, in itself, overtly political. Madonna herself hasn’t always been broadly political – she’s usually followed the egotist’s path of being personally political. Despite its outward trappings and video, the song is more of a personal exploration of Madonna’s own way of living in the American landscape, seen at a different vantage point after having spent some time in England.

SO, I WENT INTO A BAR LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY 
A LITTLE COMPANY – I TRIED TO FIND A FRIEND 
IT’S MORE EASILY SAID IT’S ALWAYS BEEN THE SAME 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE? 

In retrospect, the album has shifted and evolved in how it was, and has been, received and perceived. Initial reviews were, generally, positive. As is my wont, I raved and raptured over it, proclaiming it Madonna’s electronic pastoral, and most of the songs still hold up quite well. But after the first flush of fleeting success (it debuted at #1) and an impressive round of promotional appearances (witness her record store performances and that MTV special) it quickly plummeted, and the lead single barely cracked the top forty. Much of the problematic stuff and negative reports stemmed from the â’American Life’ single, which was blazingly wonky and brilliantly imperfect. Most people panned the rap portion of the song; I found it charming enough (she rapped in ‘Vogue’ too and no one batted a perfectly-shaded eye). The juxtaposition of electro-clash noise with the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar proved too much for listeners and were perhaps just too far ahead of their time.

AMERICAN LIFE 
I LIVE THE AMERICAN DREAM 
YOU ARE THE BEST THING I’VE SEEN, 
YOU ARE NOT JUST A DREAM

Hindsight and factual reports of those early years of the new millennium reveal the terrifying depth to which the American public was so criminally deceived by the Republicans in power. It was over a decade and a half ago, but so much rings so true today. It’s exhausting and disappointing to think of how little we have evolved, and how the basic tenets of evil – fear, greed, and a desire for power – continue to coalesce and corrupt our world. In this age of our illegitimate President, the American ambition portrayed in this song is indeed not just a dream.

I TRIED TO STAY AHEAD,
I TRIED TO STAY ON TOP 
I TRIED TO PLAY THE PART,
BUT SOMEHOW I FORGOT 
JUST WHAT I DID IT FOR 
AND WHY I WANTED MORE 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR ME? 
THIS TYPE OF MODERN LIFE – IS IT FOR FREE?

That said, politics rarely makes for good music. Not the kind I’m interested in hearing anyway. I need something more personal, more resonant to the human experience. To that end, ‘American Life’ is masterful, portraying the seeds of doubt and insecurity that can lead to world domination or oblivion. There’s a dangerously fine line between them. When removed from its incendiary video, the song is rife with self-doubt and tension. Just when you think it might resolve or dissolve into something resembling resolution, the sonic swords strike again, musical guns on blast, and the battle for dominance re-engages.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR? 
AMERICAN LIFE 
I LIVE THE AMERICAN DREAM 
YOU ARE THE BEST THING I’VE SEEN, 
YOU ARE NOT JUST A DREAM

Coming off of two successful albums (‘Ray of Light‘ and ‘Music‘) Madonna found herself at an interesting cross-road. Rather than playing things safe, she dove deeper into the brilliant madness of Mirwais and his musical mayhem, fully embracing the producer’s futuristic hand while tempering it all with her growing guitar obsession. In that sense, the ‘American Life’ album was an artistically bold move. The title track and lead single encapsulated all of it. There was a decent beat, once it kicked it, and the dance remixes would bounce along at racing BPM, but the song and the album weren’t made for dancing. America wasn’t in the mood to dance, and neither was Madonna.

I TRIED TO BE A BOY,
I TRIED TO BE A GIRL 
I TRIED TO BE A MESS,
I TRIED TO BE THE BEST 
I TRIED TO FIND A FRIEND, 
I TRIED TO STAY AHEAD 
I TRIED TO STAY ON TOP…

FUCK IT… 
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME? 
WILL IT GET ME FAR? 
SHOULD I LOSE SOME WEIGHT? 
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?

FUCK IT. FUCK IT. FUCK IT.

In the ensuing years, the ‘American Life’ album has ripened into a fan favorite, revered along the lines of ‘Erotica’ which also had a rocky journey to its classic status. In her ‘Tears of a Clown’ codas near the end of the ‘Rebel Heart Tour‘ she revisited a number of ‘American Life’ selections, including ‘Intervention‘ and ‘Easy Ride‘ and fans were ecstatic. After the Reinvention Tour, she had largely steered clear of ‘American Life’ cuts, and she has yet to embrace the title song since that first flush in 2003/2004. It’s worth another look, if only because it’s unlike anything she’s done before or since, especially the next part:

I’M DRINKING A SOY LATTE 
I GET A DOUBLE SHOTTE
IT GOES RIGHT THROUGH MY BODY 
AND YOU KNOW 
I’M SATISFIED,
I DRIVE MY MINI COOPER 
AND I’M FEELING SUPER-DOOPER 
YO THEY TELL I’M A TROOPER 
AND YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 

At some point we all mentally run through the things we’ve accumulated and accomplished in our lives. This exercise of nostalgia or simple stock-taking can be exhausting or inspiring, depending on the mood and the way in which we want to quantify anything we’ve done. Madonna’s tick-list is larger and grander and more eventful than the majority of ours, but it’s also remarkably human and mundane. Her concerns are at once small and significant, superficial and complex, contradictory and consistent. From Mini Coopers to Metaphysics, she runs through the gamut of life at the turn of the millennium. Looking back, we’ve been on this rocky road for a long time – too long – and the cracks and pot-holes have grown exponentially disastrous.

I DO YOGA AND PILATES 
AND THE ROOM IS FULL OF HOTTIES 
SO I’M CHECKING OUT THE BODIES 
AND YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 
I’M DIGGING ON THE ISOTOPES 
THIS METAPHYSIC SHIT IS DOPE 
AND IF ALL THIS CAN GIVE ME HOPE 
YOU KNOW I’M SATISFIED 

On some level she knows her laundry list is ridiculous, and there is more than a little wink behind the infamous rap. It’s over-the-top, it’s too much, it’s silly and it’s profound. It’s what she knows, in all the limited and expansive glory that is Madonna’s world. It inspires neither envy nor empathy. America was messy then, as it’s messy now. Maybe it’s always been that way. Anyone who makes a success of themselves in this land has had to get messy at one point or another. As she runs through her accomplishments and accruals, things get more frenzied and insistent before finishing with a nihilistic revoking of the reality/realization that all is illusion.

I GOT A LAWYER AND A MANAGER 
AN AGENT AND A CHEF 
THREE NANNIES, AN ASSISTANT 
AND A DRIVER AND A JET 
A TRAINER AND A BUTLER 
AND A BODYGUARD OR FIVE 
A GARDENER AND A STYLIST 
DO YOU THINK I’M SATISFIED?
I’D LIKE TO EXPRESS MY EXTREME POINT OF VIEW 
I’M NOT A CHRISTIAN AND I’M NOT A JEW 
I’M JUST LIVING OUT THE AMERICAN DREAM 
AND I JUST REALIZED THAT NOTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS 

Still, dreams are requisite ways of getting through the day, American or not. Yes, the idea of a Ice Blue Show Princess Mini Cooper was sewn in my head then, but it was only a wish. My Kicky Blue Gumdrop Impreza would go a couple more years, and the ‘American Life’ CD would ring loudly from within as spring warmed into summer. As soon as the rap fizzled and the electro-explosions faded out, the birds of ‘Hollywood‘ flew into the air. We bopped along to the music of Mirwais, seeking our next acquisition, our next fix, our next material obsession.

The world was on fire and all we could do was watch it burn.

DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?
AM I GONNA BE A STAR?
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?
AM I GONNA BE A STAR? 
DO I HAVE TO CHANGE MY NAME?

SONG #148: ‘American Life’ – Spring 2003

{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.}

Impenetrable fortress of leaves and flowers.

Walls of vines grown rigid and gnarled.

A cloud of bees readying their swords.

Bordered by trees and shrubs, a sun-lit section of secret garden opened up to the boy who didn’t belong there. Like Peter Rabbit, he’d gained his entrance without invitation, stumbling upon it while on a hide-and-seek mission with the neighborhood kids. It was so entrancing, so seductive with its leafy curtains begging further exploration, that he promptly forgot about anyone waiting for him to return. Already the garden cast its dangerous spell, and with the boy securely in its trance closed its gates around him.

A line of marigolds held golden goblets of fire in the air; a rough brush of their foliage and flowers released a less-than-desirable fragrance. (Being pretty and blessed with such fiery shades would have to be enough.) A patch of ferny-leaved cosmos winked and blushed, bobbing their pink faces in the breeze.

A bed of vegetables was neatly tended. Bare teepees of bamboo rods hosted climbing pole beans. Large umbrels of bright green shaded the protuberance of new zucchini fruit, the swollen phallic forms practically throbbing within their ribbed skin. A stand of blood red tomatoes looked a little worse for wear. The mutilated, disemboweled and partly-devoured carcasses of several fruits sat in a sad pile beneath those who had not yet fallen. The boy was not the only marauder who had trespassed here. Such is the inherent problem with excessive prettiness: everyone wants to look. And if you taste good enough on top of that, some will want to eat.

IN MY SECRET GARDEN, I’M LOOKING FOR THE PERFECT FLOWER

WAITING FOR MY FINEST HOUR

IN MY SECRET GARDEN, I STILL BELIEVE AFTER ALL

I STILL BELIEVE AND I FALL

YOU PLANT THE SEED AND I’LL WATCH IT GROW

I WONDER WHEN I’LL START TO SHOW

I WONDER IF I’LL EVER KNOW

WHERE MY PLACE IS

WHERE MY FACE IS

I KNOW IT’S IN HERE SOMEWHERE

I JUST WISH I KNEW THE COLOR OF MY HAIR

I KNOW THE ANSWER’S HIDING SOMEWHERE

IN MY SECRET GARDEN…

A garden where sex and death were as much a part of life as air and water. Sin and salvation intertwined like a pair of vines, and you could not gain a seed without the death of a flower. The act of copulation was at its inception an act of violence: an act of breaking and entering – a holy act of destruction. The garden was cruel in those ways and others. It bestowed beauty and charm while insidiously offering poisoned fruits and thorny barbs. It was the exquisite opening scene of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ before everything went all bloody and murderous. A garden is not a thing with which to trifle, and a secret garden carries even more defenses.

THERE’S A PETAL THAT ISN’T TORN

A HEART THAT WILL NOT HARDEN

A PLACE THAT I CAN BE BORN, IN MY SECRET GARDEN

A ROSE WITHOUT A THORN, A LOVER WITHOUT SCORN

Psychedelic and trippy, this song closed the gorgeously-prickly ‘Erotica’ album with an artful flourish, and it remains one of Madonna’s most seductive and challenging works. A colorful prism of self-reflection and perpetual seeking, it finds Madonna both reflective and hopeful. The song doesn’t want to end – the piano is tickled incessantly like some giddy post-coital lover and the ‘Erotica’ album doesn’t so much end as fade eternally into a searing, sexy sunset.

We are nearing the final section of songs for the Madonna Timeline (I’d say this is the last quarter, the winter of our several-years-long journey), and while it has by no means been a comprehensive and complete examination of her immense catalog, it hits the majority of efforts from her main albums.  I’m glad this song waited until the end to appear, as it is a nifty (not neat, never neat – anybody who says the show is neat has to go) close-out of the ‘Erotica’ period. It was a fertile portion of her infamous career, perhaps her most provocative, and with it came some of her best music. The title track to the album is an ode to a largely-vanished New York sex scene (God how I miss the Gaiety), while singles ‘Deeper and Deeper’, ‘Bad Girl‘, and ‘Rain‘ round out the proceedings with wildly-disparate themes and videos. The deep cuts were just as brilliant, with ‘Words‘ and ‘Thief of Hearts‘ easily vying for single-status. Things got sultry with ‘Fever‘ and ‘Waiting’ and ‘Where Life Begins’, then subdued and somber with ‘Why’s It So Hard’ and ‘In This Life’ before kissing someone cheekily off in ‘Bye Bye Baby’. For the CD (this was back when we still had cassette tapes too, kids) the bonus track ‘Did You Do It?’ was a ridiculous waste of time and space but every album needs a dud; I suppose we should be grateful she made it the bonus track instead of the final song. That final song is here, and it encapsulates the heady time of her life that was ‘Erotica’ and ‘Sex’ and the firestorm of controversy that accompanied both.

IF I WAIT FOR THE RAIN TO KISS ME AND UNDRESS ME

WILL I LOOK LIKE A FOOL, WET AND A MESS?

WILL I STILL BE THIRSTY? WILL I PASS THE TEST?

AND IF I LOOK FOR THE RAINBOW, WILL I SEE IT?

OR WILL IT PASS RIGHT BY?

CAUSE I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE, CAUSE THE BLIND ARE NEVER FREE

EVEN IN MY SECRET GARDEN

THERE’S A CHANCE THAT I COULD HARDEN

THAT’S WHY I’LL KEEP LOOKING FOR…

As for me, ‘Secret Garden’ was the gloriously trippy soundtrack to the rollercoaster of my sex life that was about to begin. Straddling the innocent and the profane, it brought a font of forbidden knowledge, the kind that gushed so guiltily in the garden of Adam and Eve. Tempted by such sweet fruit and called by the beauty dangling in front of me, I happily fell. I didn’t know then how sticky it could be, how wildly the heart could run when led by the cock. The scorn of lovers was not usually a character trait in the others; I would bring it out in them. And they in me. No great rose ever came without a few thorns.

A PETAL THAT ISN’T TORN

A HEART THAT WILL NOT HARDEN

A PLACE THAT I CAN BE BORN, IN MY SECRET GARDEN

A ROSE WITHOUT A THORN, A LOVER WITHOUT SCORN

I STILL BELIEVE, I STILL BELIEVE

CAUSE AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE, I’M STILL ALIVE

THE BOOTS HAVE COME AND TRAMPLED ON ME AND I’M STILL ALIVE

CAUSE THE SUN HAS KISSED ME AND CARESSED ME

AND I’M STRONG

AND THERE’S A CHANCE THAT I WILL GROW, THIS I KNOW

SO I’M STILL LOOKING FOR…

The long-ago summer of the boy’s visit to the secret garden passed. It would be one of the last games of hide-and-seek, one of the last times he would look upon a hidden garden and feel magic and delight. He was growing up, and fall was taking him back to the noisy and riotous world of people, to a world less dangerous in some ways and much more wicked in others. In the garden that was just going to sleep, a few lethargic bees buzzed, more out of habit than any pollen-gathering work-ethic. There were still days when the sun warmed the earth and the land gave up the scent of life, even if life meant decay and rot and impending winter slumber. If you looked beneath the oak leaves, you might find a pile of green put forth by a few stalwart fighters, hanging onto their freshness to the very end. They too would be gone soon enough, buried beneath the snow and brutalized by a cold that sunk into and below their roots. The secrets of the garden would not be fully revealed before it went into hiding for the winter.

A PETAL THAT ISN’T TORN

A HEART THAT WILL NOT HARDEN

A PLACE THAT I CAN BE BORN, IN MY SECRET GARDEN

A ROSE WITHOUT A THORN, A LOVER WITHOUT SCORN

SOMEWHERE IN FONTAINEBLEAU LIES MY SECRET GARDEN…

SONG #147: – ‘Secret Garden’ ~ Late fall 1992

{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.}

Hola! Ese bato loco!

I’m going bananas,
And I feel like my poor little mind is being devoured by piranhas,
For I’m going bananas.

A story once circulated that en route to one of her Girlie Show gigs around the world, Madonna watched ‘Sunset Boulevard‘ for perhaps the first time. It sounds a little suspect. That this would be her introduction to such a classic film so late in the game feels unlikely. But such is the story, and who knows if it happened. The point is that it may have informed her “crazy” section in that otherwise glorious tour production. There’s a very distinct stretch that begins with ‘I’m Going Bananas’ in which she wears a bandana on her head like a skull-cap and then performs ‘La Isla Bonita‘ and ‘Holiday’ while acting downright maniacal, at times refusing to vacate the stage in an elaborate James Brown routine. It was almost cute, and nice to see her poking fun at herself and her little career slump following ‘Erotica‘ and ‘Sex‘. Of course it was far from the end, but the wink was a reassuring reminder that she hadn’t lost her sense of humor, nor her way.

That’s how I view ‘I’m Going Bananas’. Not really worth psycho-analyzing such a trifle of a Dick Tracy throwaway track. Better to be reminded of some other cuts from that theatrical soundtrack:

• He’s A Man
• Sooner or Later
• Hanky Panky
• Cry Baby
• More
• Vogue

There’s bats in my belfry.
Won’t you make sure this straightjacket’s tight,
Otherwise I might get myself free.
Yes, there’s bats in my belfry.

Who knows?
Could be the wine I drink
Or it’s the way I think,
That makes me gonzo.
Oh, Doctor Alonzo says I’m going bananas,
Someone get me a bed in the “Casa de Loco” for all my mananas,
For I’m going bananas.
Yes, I’m going bananas.
Si, I’m going bananas.

SONG #146: ‘I’m Going Bananas’