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.}

It seems crazy but you must believe
There’s nothing calculated, nothing planned
Please forgive me if I seem naive
I would never want to force your hand
But please understand, I’d be good for you

I don’t always rush in like this
Twenty seconds after saying hello
Telling strangers I’m too good to miss
If I’m wrong I hope you’ll tell me so
But you really should know, I’d be good for you
I’d be surprisingly good for you…

The tedium of the fall of ‘Evita’ has been well-documented on the Madonna Timeline, so for this one, which is really an after-thought after such monstrosities, I have nothing but one tiny memory of waiting in the basement of one of the Brandeis buildings, and hoping with all my might that the object of my affection would find his way downstairs to use the restroom, and then planting a kiss on him out of the blue.

It was, thank God, one of the few bad ideas that I didn’t follow through on. Every once in a while, I have an ounce of sense that bubbles to the surface, breaks, and saves me from inestimable embarrassment. Not often, but once in a while…

I won’t go on if I’m boring you
But do you understand my point of view?
Do you like what you hear, what you see
And would you be, good for me too?

I’m not talking of a hurried night
A frantic tumble then a shy goodbye
Creeping home before it gets too light
That’s not the reason that I caught your eye
Which has to imply, I’d be good for you
I’d be surprisingly good for you.

Song #86 – ‘I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You’ – Late Fall 1996

{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.}

Like a bitch out of order,

Like a bat out of hell

Like a fish out of water

I’m scared, can’t you tell?

Bang bang.

Bang bang.

Some songs make you want to do bad things. Very bad things. A sinister bass line, a blast of guitar, a vicious whisper – all add up to the daring drama of ‘Gang Bang’ -the next selection for the Madonna Timeline. From her latest (and sorely under-rated) ‘MDNA’ album, this is Madonna’s return to controversial form. Many fans have likened the song to a throwback from her dark ‘Erotica‘ opus, but this goes a bit further, and finds our maiden/mistress at her angriest. ‘Gang Bang’ is fully loaded, and aimed squarely at the heart of the one who has done her wrong. (In this instance, coming in the aftermath of her divorce from Guy Ritchie, it’s hard to read anything other than a savage revenge play made against her ex-husband.)

I thought you were good,
But you painted me bad.
Compared to the others,
You’re the best thing I had.

Bang Bang, shot you dead.
Bang Bang, shot you dead.

The thing that has always struck me about Madonna, and a fact that many of her detractors have a hard time believing, is that most of her anger and acting out is a rather transparent display of hidden hurt and buried heartache. It’s hard to get truly mad at someone who comes from a place of sadness and loss, even if they do their best to turn it into something bitter and defiant.

I thought it was you,
And I loved you the most.
But I was just keeping
My enemies close.

I made a decision,
I would never look back.
So how did you end up
With all my jack?

Bang Bang, shot you dead.
Bang Bang, shot you dead

in the head.

Her performance of this song on the MDNA Tour was filled with guns and violence, and even in a pre-Sandy Hook world this was tough to watch. I’m not going to get into a gun-control debate here, though. It’s a Madonna song. You read into it what you want, and I’m not going to argue about it.

Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead and I have no regrets
Bang Bang, shot you dead in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head.

All I can do is remember what it made me feel. This is one of those driving songs, the soundtrack to those times when you simply get in the car and drive with no destination in mind – you just want to get out of the house, away from your husband, and away from a life that sometimes seems at odds with everything you once dreamed. It’s the ultimate lashing out of anger, the purging of pent-up emotions, and, if you’re careful, a safe release of the madness that lurks somewhere in the midst of the happiest marriage.

And then I discovered
It couldn’t get worse
You were building my coffin
You were driving my hearse

Bang Bang, shot you dead
Bang Bang, in the head.

A confessional piece of pop art like this song can sometimes afford an easy reconciliation. Listening to it may quell the stupid fights, the ones over the small things. It’s no substitute for communication and figuring the big issues out, but I’m the first to admit that most of our fights (and not just between Andy and myself, but most of us) are over the small stuff.

I thought it was you
And I loved you the most
But I was just keeping
My enemies close

I made a decision,
I would never look back
So how did you end up
With all of my jack?

Bang Bang, shot you dead, in the head.

Every once in a while, though, I’ll get in the car, and there is no relief. There’s nothing left to be reconciled, there’s nothing left to alleviate, and there’s nothing left in me to forgive, and that’s when the song turns just the slightest bit dangerous. We all have our breaking points. We all have the capacity to hurt, and to get hurt. And in the end, we all bleed.

Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead and I have no regrets
Bang Bang, shot you dead, in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head

You had to die for me baby
How could I move on with my life
If you didn’t die for me baby?
If you didn’t die for me baby?
I need you to die for me baby…

How far removed are we from the murderers and killers? How far apart are we from the person who, for that one moment, snaps and cracks and pops one in the head of the one who hurt them? We all like to think it’s so unfathomable, so far from who we think we are, from what we think we could do. But until you’re there, until you’re the one getting that shit heaped upon you, you’ll never know.

Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head
Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head
Now my lover is dead, and I have no regrets.
He deserved it.
And I’m going straight to hell
And I’ve got a lot of friends there
And if I see that bitch in hell
I’m gonna shoot him in the head again
Cause I wanna see him die
Over and over
And over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over…

To be honest, it’s not my favorite song from the album, despite how much many other fans seem to love it. (It was instantly heralded as one of her best, and the end result didn’t live up to the hype in my head.) I do think it would have made a killer video, and Madonna did put out feelers for Quentin Tarantino to direct it (oh how I wish that had come to fruition), but as of this writing it hasn’t panned out. For now, it’s a nifty vessel for channeling the rage we usually feel at one point or another, and every once in a while I’ll turn it up, back the car out, and drive.

Now drive bitch!
I said drive bitch!
And while you’re at it, die bitch!
That’s right drive bitch.

Now if you’re gonna act like a bitch,
Then you’re gonna die like a bitch.

Song #85: ‘Gang Bang’ – Spring 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.}

We need a little levity of late – things have gotten decidedly too dour and dreary, even if we are ensconced in the midst of winter. To that end, the iPod has shifted to ‘Candy Shop’ – one of my least favorite Madonna songs, but one that has enough cheeky silliness to attempt a slight smile. From the moment the demo first leaked, and through all of its live incarnations, I have not been left with a sweet taste in my mouth. Instead, I find myself trying to find the decent melody and hook that Madonna has consistently delivered – and every time I can’t. I think it fell short of its metaphors, and wanna-be street-cred, and failed miserably. As the quasi-title track from her ‘Hard Candy’ album, it was supposed to be all high-sugar, super-sexy concept, but never quite succeeded. You cannot build an entire album around a trifling concept and a few leftover Pharrell beats – and in this case you can’t even build a single song out of it.

All these suckers are not what we sell in the store

Chocolate kisses so good you’ll be beggin’ for more

Don’t pretend you’re not hungry, there’s plenty to eat

Come on in to my store ’cause my sugar is sweet

The lyrics are whimsically serviceable enough, shot through with enough possible double-entendres to remind that this is still Madonna, and she can still be quite cheeky, but in today’s world of salacious naughtiness, this is more safe-fun than scintillatingly-provocative. Madonna is at her best when she is at her most risky – either in boldly controversial moves, daringly personal revelations, or shockingly good musical turns. This lackluster track misses all those marks. Wisely, despite its title tie-in, ‘Candy Shop’ was never a single off of ‘Hard Candy’ – the much-more-impressive ‘4 Minutes’ was the kick-off – but Madonna still chose Candy to lead the Sticky and Sweet Tour, making it one of Madonna’s least memorable tour openings.

My sugar is raw (sticky and sweet)

My sugar is raw (sticky and sweet)…

What does “My sugar is raw” even mean? I texted it to all my friends and only got a flurry of puzzled responses. “The purple moose flies at midnight” being one, “Bareback sugar is what’s up” went another, and then there was this from Suzie: “Raw sugar is the way to go in coffee fo sho.”

As for this song in the Madonna canon, it will likely settle near the bottom. I can’t even get a quick sugar-high from it. Most egregiously, the cover art for this album is a let-down, being a horrid cob-job of a bad photo shoot, and an even-worse use of photoshop. (By the way, I don’t care what the kids in Narnia say, Turkish delight is not that great.)

Song #84: ‘Candy Shop’ ~Spring 2008

{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.}

When I move a certain way, I feel an ache I’ve kept at bay

A hairline break that’s taking hold, A metal that I thought was gold,

And pure so sure it struck a vein, I wanted you to feel the same,

So when you did ignite a spark, Rescue me from all this dark,

See our hearts are intertwined, Then I’m free, free of mine,

I’m falling free…

A non-traditional Madonna Timeline entry, as I have yet to make a memory that corresponds with ‘Falling Free’… or perhaps I’m making that memory now. Across the stark, barely-snowy landscape, an equally stark string of piano notes rings out. In this winter of so much discontent, I yearn to be free too. In the remnants of relationships once held so dear, in the aftermath of battles fought long and hard, I seek some sense of understanding, some reason for why, but nothing comes of it. I draw closer to Andy then, as much as I can, but even he only lets me so near.

See our hearts are intertwined,

And then I’m free, I’m free of mine.

Deep and pure our hearts align,

And then I’m free, I’m free of mine.

The song contains an almost Gaelic lilt, and suddenly I’m transported back to Ireland, to the day when the clouds parted and the rolling hills were redolent in wild, vivid, acid green. A precarious kissing of the Blarney Stone, a perilous spiral of stone stairs, and a lonely walk along a stream comprised the day. A solitary swan swam in the lake behind our little hotel – a single spot of white amid the slate and blue-gray water. Pebbles on the beach, and a long black coat billowing behind me. The other side of the ocean, half a world away.

When I raise the certain wing, And crawl beneath that growing thing,

It throws a shadow over time, And keeps yours falling next to mine.

Your days were meant to fly and do, I fall and fold mine into you,

And what you take is just enough, And what you give is what I love.

And when you lift you raise the sail, And then I’m free, free to fail.

I’m falling free…

She sings of the intertwined, the once-bound, and the newly-free. She speaks of herself, she speaks of him, she speaks of me. I think back on all the couples who were together when Andy and I first met, how I looked with wonder on them, and how, slowly, day by day, and year by year, some fell apart. What fickleness, love today. What ease, what hurt, what pain, what apathy. What clean-cut mess, what nasty cleaving.

Deep and pure our hearts align, And then I’m free, I’m free of mine

When I let loose the need to know, Then we’re both free, we’re free to go.

When I lose a certain claim that tries to know and needs to blame

Whatever river runs aground, It turns my head and washes down

The face of God that stands above pouring over Hope and Love

That all of might, and life, and limb could turn around and love again

When I let loose the need to know, Then we’re both free, free to go

I’m falling free…

No longer like a prayer, this is a prayer – an incantation – begging for salvation, for hope, for something to be set free. For something to fall. If you listen closely, if you know her voice inside and out, if you’ve heard it almost every day for the last twenty five years, you will hear a difference. Madonna’s instrument – recently ravaged by a head-cold, or maybe just the advancement, once so cruel, of fifty-four years of living, has changed ever so slightly. Deeper, raspier in sound, worn and a little frayed, it bespeaks both splendor and ruin. Every last one of us is getting older. We are all moving in that one direction. Closer to death. Closer to freedom.

At 3:36 then, the magic of William Orbit. The origin of ‘Ray of Light’, one might say her ultimate rebirth, echoed in the delicate music, moving, like she constantly does, but not quickly, not like light, but fluid like water – undulating, pulsating, ebbing like life – like waves on a distant shore. There it ends ~ without fanfare, without release, without definition ~ hanging in the air, like the quick notes of spring on the wings of a brief thaw, gone by the morning.

Deep and pure our hearts align

And then I’m free, I’m free of mine

When I let lose the need to know

Then we’re both free, we’re free to go.

Song #83″ ‘Falling Free’ – Winter 2013

{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 have a tale to tell
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall…

It was the summer of 1986. In many ways it was the last summer of my childhood. ‘Stand By Me’ was in the movie theaters, and around every corner was an adventure that could only be reached by bicycle. In the stifling heat of the garage, sitting in the station wagon, my Mom and I waited for my brother. The bitter scent of exhaust filled the hot space. At odds with the sunny day, the dim wood and oil-stained cement lent the moment a purgatorial feel. Despite the rising temperature, I was not uncomfortable. That’s one of the tenets of childhood – you don’t notice the extremes of hot or cold. Getting in the car after a day at Disneyworld was nothing back then, and going out in a snowstorm was a cakewalk.

I stared at the door going into the house, willing my brother to appear sooner rather than later. On the radio Madonna‘s ‘Live To Tell’ was playing. At the time, I didn’t like the song (a sign that I would later love it – see ‘Frozen‘.) It wasn’t that I actively disliked it, I simply preferred her dance songs, something more upbeat. I liked my pop songs to be a form of escapism. On this day, however, something changed.

A man can tell a thousand lies
I’ve learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned, til then…
It will burn inside of me.

The mysteries and secrets of childhood were all around me. The unfairness of being a child was always in suspense, waiting to be released in a flood of messy tears and red-faced anguish. What secrets can a ten-year-old hold? You’d be surprised. Time moves differently when you’re a kid. The magnitude of minutes can be immense, and a year can feel like an eternity. Everything is magnified, everything means more. The intensity of childhood equalizes its carefree aspects, and that’s a precarious balance. Shift in either one direction too far and disaster is imminent. We don’t give children enough credit sometimes. We don’t know how much of what adults do weighs down upon their shoulders. Luckily, as children, we don’t always know either.

I know where beauty lives
I’ve seen it once, I know the warm she gives
The light that you could never see
It shines inside, you can’t take that from me.

On the verge of turning eleven, I was lucky that summer. I had not quite turned the corner to adolescence. Any notions of sexuality or being gay were too far in the distance, and though there were definite signs, I could still operate within the safety of childhood. My parents could still love me unconditionally. If you can make it through the first decade of life relatively unscathed, you might stand a chance. In that way, I was fortunate. But something told me the luck was about to run out. In the ticking of the song, in that moment of waiting, the last bit of sand was squeezing through the cinched waist of the hourglass.

A man can tell a thousand lies
I’ve learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, til then
It will burn inside of me…

The truth is never far behind
You’ve kept it hidden well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again?

The song suddenly stopped, or I thought it did. The low hum of a single synthesized bass was lost in the car. Then, slowly, a few chords sounded. At the moment that the powerful bridge began, I distinctly remember opening the door of the car. I paused there, the door handle in my hand, as the song filled the garage.

If I ran away, I’d never have the strength, to go very far,
How would they hear the beating of my heart?
Will it grow cold, the secret that I hide?

Will I grow old?

How will they hear?

When will they learn?

How will they know?

That’s when it all changed for me. The song. The innocence. The childhood. It all broke – not for any specific reason, not for any dramatic turn of events – it simply happened. In so many ways, I grew up then. That it was Madonna who guided me through it was fitting. I did not know how much she would come to influence me and see me through the difficult times. I did not realize that she would be the perfect person to raise a gay son. I did not understand how much I would have to do alone.

There, in the midst of the heat, still waiting for my brother to come out of the house, I felt a chill. Call it a premonition, call it foreshadowing, I just know that at that singular moment my world shifted. Though it lasted but half a minute, it has stayed with me, frozen in time and memory, for all of my existence. Something in the song called to me from what was to come, some strange but vital message from my future whispered that I would need these words to survive, that, someday, Madonna would save my life.

It may sound silly and stupid as an adult, but nothing is silly when you’re a kid. I ran into the house and shouted for my brother. Back in the car, the rest of the song played on. Patiently, my Mom and I waited. It was dark in the garage, and we were probably going somewhere I didn’t want to go, but I still didn’t want to be late.

A man can tell a thousand lies
I’ve learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, til then
It will burn inside of me.

As for its place in Madonna’s storied career, ‘Live To Tell’ was (at least according to a 1995 interview promoting her ‘Something to Remember’ ballad collection) one of her favorites. Oddly enough, she has only performed it on three tours. While I loved the confessional Catholic drama of her Blonde Ambition rendition, it was her Christ-on-a-cross pose for the Confessions tour that stands as my favorite. Witnessing the rise of that arresting image was a highlight of the show – the deliberate droning of a church organ playing tensely in-between verses, and Madonna in a crown-of-thorns singing for the children, for the lost, for the crucifixion of innocence.

The truth is never far behind
You’ve kept it hidden well
If I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again?

Song #82 – ‘Live To Tell’ ~ Summer 1986