Last year Madonna’s ‘Ray of Light’ album turned 25 and we celebrated its silver anniversary within this post. On this day, I am scheduled to find myself departing Boston from a weekend there, which is where my ‘Ray of Light’ experience originally took place. The world occasionally circles back in such reassuring fashion, though that night grow ever dimmer with each passing year, if I think about it hard enough, and pace myself there again, I can rekindle the faded magic of that time in my life.
Mostly, it was a time of solitude, and for me that’s where the majority of my growth and resolve as a human being began. When you’re alone, you have to deal with the inner-voice, alternately heckling and pushing, degrading and supporting, celebrating and criticizing – and learning how to control and live with that before getting entangled with a romantic partner. It is, I still believe, one of the best ways of beginning a relationship, and I watched as I and many of my friends thought that finding a partner was the best way of finding ourselves, only to have it fizzle out because we didn’t even know who we were then.
‘Ray of Light’ was setting the stage for my adult relationships, even if I felt entirely out of control and disastrously lost when it came to romance. Madonna’s lyrics, and the accompanying majesty of the ambient groove that opened the album (in the exquisite ‘Drowned World/Substitute for Love‘, which remains my favorite Madonna song) and drifted into more worldly concerns such as in ‘Swim‘ and the epic wonder of that thumping title track, resonated in ways that felt more personal than any of her albums prior or since.
I traveled many miles listening to ‘Sky Fits Heaven‘, seeking and searching for a destination that looked like peace and tranquility, and never finding anything remotely close. I drove south with a boyfriend as ‘Nothing Really Matters‘ was released, desperately aiming to mold myself into a creature made full and complete by a command and understanding of love, only to lose him in a winter that ended up rivaling the lonely winter in which I first heard ‘Frozen‘. (In some ways it only made sense, as I met him when ‘The Power of Goodbye‘ was being released.) The more I learned, the less I knew, and I was too deep in it to see the overreaching arc of any progress or discovery I might be making. Whenever I got lost, ‘Ray of Light’ was the musical journey that set me back on the right path.
To this day, the music brings me back, as much as it brings me forward – a testament to the enduring power and legacy of this album – still the best in Madonna’s vast catalog and at this point unlikely to ever be topped. Music, when it is heard at the crux of winter and spring, on those warmer nights when the earth seems to be awakening again, and all sorts of possibility and hope ride on the Western wind, strikes at the heart, and renders me breathless. With ‘Ray of Light’, Madonna proved that she still knew how to cast a potent spell.
