‘Like A Prayer’ has a Madonna Timeline entry for almost every single track. (We’ll get to ‘Love Song’ someday…) As we celebrate the album’s 30th anniversary, let’s look back.
Thanks to the powers that be.
Arguably her second greatest album (after ‘Ray of Light‘), ‘‘Like A Prayer‘ was released exactly thirty years ago on this date in 1989. I would rank it second based on its first two singles alone, but the remaining tracks are equally brilliant (give or take an eccentric Prince contribution and the often-problematic final track of a Madonna album).
In March of 1989, I was thirteen years old.
Tricky time of life, thirteen.
In some cultures that’s considered the point of life when your soul solidifies into what it’s going to be for life. For me, it was roughly the time of adult cognizance, the point at which I can start remembering most of what happens in a day rather than have it obscured by the murky half-remembrances of childhood (and the murky non-remembrances of the past decade, when memory stopped being made).
It was my last year at Wilbur H. Lynch Middle School ~ that quick two-year experience between elementary and high school ~ and as the winter neared its completion that year, we were all a little antsy. And bored. Raised on NBC’s daytime line-up, I hungered for drama and intrigue, for something more exciting than Social Studies or band. In the hallway outside the auditorium of the school, an expansive marble staircase wound its way up to the second floor. In mottled shades of gray, the marble was a glimpse of something beautiful in the midst of so much mediocrity. So too was Madonna’s new album in the pop landscape in 1989.
‘Like A Prayer’ shocked many, surprised some, and scared the hell out of me once the whispered beginnings and backward choir of ‘Act of Contrition’ kicked in. So entrenched in the Catholic dogma was I that one spring evening I found myself in the backyard holding a heavy stone over my head, about to smash it down on the cassette version of ‘Like A Prayer’ in an act of divine loyalty. It still wasn’t enough to keep ‘Like A Prayer’ from instantly searing itself into my memory bank. But I digress…
On those mornings, after I was dressed and about to depart for school, I’d sneak a peek at whatever was on MTV in my parents room. Dad had been at the hospital working for an hour already, while mom was downstairs waiting for my brother. Over their bed hung a large, graphic crucifix. The crown of thorns was slightly dusty. Cobwebs draped the arms of Jesus. His sorrowful expression, eyes closed in death or impending death, gave no hint or knowledge of any future resurrection. The blood pouring forth from his nailed hands must have made knowledge like that incredibly useless.
The dark early morning and the drawn shades meant that only the television was lighting the room. Flames of burning crosses lit up the crucifix and surrounding walls as Madonna danced to ‘Like A Prayer’ and I shuddered at whether this crossed the borderline into something blasphemous or sinful. Would God punish me for this? Would he punish my family? Guilt, loyalty, reverence and impudence crossed my mind and took up battle with one another. Religion clashed with nature clashed with spirituality clashed with gleeful demonic possession. A statue of a black saint bled ruby blood from his eyes while Madonna’s own palms were suddenly inflicted with stigmata ostensibly from a dropped knife. All the while, the music raged and the choir sang and the whole thing was so rapturous I thought I might die right there on the bed.
My mother’s voice breaks the reverie. My brother rushes by in the hall and thunders down the stairs. As the day goes by, I walk the hallways of school and think of Madonna’s song. Hearing it play in my mind, I envision the marble and the columns and the grandiosity of the school architecture rising to majestic heights and magnificence as if they were transforming into an iconic church. Echoes of children bounced off the stone, rose into the air, and collided with other voices. Angelic innocence smothered by devilish treachery. We were all just animals struggling to survive.
At such a young age ~ and yes, once upon a long time ago the age of thirteen was incredibly young and relatively innocent ~ I was not yet interested in girls. Little did I understand or even realize then, beyond a stirring I did my best to keep quiet and still, that I would never be interested in girls. Something like ‘Love Song’ was lost on entirely on me, as the stuff of crushes and infatuations would not come into play for several years. Of more immediate concern was the idea of parental abandonment and strife as portrayed in ‘Oh Father‘ and ‘Promise To Try‘ ~ on the cusp of adolescence, my issues with my parents were about to become as understandably strained as those of any young gay guy being raised in a strict, Catholic, half-Filipino household. I simply didn’t know it then, and was not ready to confront anyone or anything. Madonna sang for me, whether I realized it or not, and we began building an irrevocable bond that no one would ever fully understand.
Other songs sounded good, even if I didn’t have a clue about the pain that was being conveyed. I was happily light years away from understanding anything about ‘Til Death Do Us Part‘ ~ but the warning was implicit, not that there was any magic trick to avoiding falling in love. If there was, I’m sure I wouldn’t follow it. Most thirteen-year-olds won’t be bothered with such warnings, unless it’s to explicitly defy them. I wasn’t that difficult, yet, and so I listened from the safe vantage point of a bystander, enthralled and transfixed by the woman whose music always brought such exuberant joy and happiness. To that end, ‘Like A Prayer’ was distinctly different from the confections of ‘True Blue’ and ‘Like A Virgin‘ (even if there was ‘Cherish’).
Mostly this album was the start of a somber time. There was maybe one more year of carefree youth before things started to really change, before we took the irretrievable steps beyond childhood, when ‘Keep it Together‘ became the real prayer. The lament of ‘Pray for Spanish Eyes‘ and the lost enchantment of ‘Dear Jessie‘ hinted at darker days to come. The marble halls of my middle school days were already receding into memory, dissolving like some smoky sleight of hand, mere wisps of fragmented sounds and scents, faded evocations of a time that had no end and no beginning…
The ‘Like A Prayer’ album would be with me for the rest of my life, evolving and meaning different things to me as the years passed. I would come to understand all the songs that I could only feel the surface of back then, and the songs that I thought I knew so well would eventually reveal layers of meaning and a resonance that would continually inform my journey. (‘Express Yourself’ indeed.)
That’s the mark of a great music album.
It’s also the mark of a great musician.
Madonna proved herself with ‘Like A Prayer’ – and that was no mystery.
We no longer stood alone.
‘Spring is in the air’ is just another way of saying ‘Love is in the air.’
I’m not sorry that it is so.
Rising like the big JC Himself, today heralds the return of spring! Amen and Halleluh!! (That’s the extent of my Drag Race references, and I know it was several seasons ago but I just can’t be bothered to keep up anymore.) Coming in the midst of Mercury’s Retrograde madness, spring has the onerous distinction of arriving while things are crazy and hectic. Only through deliberate determination to remain calm and not ruffle feathers have I maintained some semblance of sanity these past few weeks, and I’ll grant that it is the merest resemblance. Thankfully, it hasn’t been that difficult. Laying low is an art form, and I intend to make some serious art in the next few weeks.
My new project is practically completed – a month before I anticipated or hoped – which means I can begin planning a little promotional push for late spring/early summer. (Relax, it won’t be nearly as extensive or naked as the last one.) This is a smaller project – a little personal gift to those who mean the most to me. It’s also a completely new realm of work for me, so it’s amateurish and unpolished, but it was so fun to do I don’t care.
That’s the breath of fresh air that this spring, and this website, needs – so welcome to the new season. See the pretty flowers and smell their happy perfume. Pet the furry bunnies and hold the baby goats. Indulge in the moments before it all lets loose.
Spring is here!
The best bits of beauty are the heartbreaking ones. They tear at the soul, ravage the calm, and rage against the peaceful sleep for which we may long. I think we need that sadness to fulfill the promise of happiness. One can’t exist without the other, not if we want to know what they really mean, how they really feel. The beauty of that is not always easy to grasp, or easy to see. One has to look hard to find solace in sadness.
The solemnity of winter’s slumber is to be preserved cocoon-like until next December. Let this be an elegy for the passing of the dark season. I present to you a song with which to put your burdens down. We carry too much in a day, and we certainly carry too much in a winter. Let us take tonight to put this winter down, to honor and revere it for what it has been, and to gently welcome the next season whatever it may bring.
Certain music always moves me at this time of the year. It’s the music of God, more-so than any choirs at Christmas or hymns at Easter – it’s a music that touches the soul, merging beauty and art and loss and nature in a glorious, rapturous and heartrending phantasmagoria. ‘Appalachian Spring’ and Aaron Copland created such a creature. Arvo Pärt made it too. They spoke the word of God.
When winter transforms into spring it doesn’t always happen peacefully. It’s a battle of rage even when there’s only ever been one winner. Wind cries. Storm wails. Night tumbles. This is the sound of God? How could it hurt this much? How does one bear such terrifying beauty?
As we turn the page to another spring, and bid farewell to another winter, the moment for pause and reflection is at hand. Then that too shall pass, and we will trudge on. It’s time.
“Get busy living, or get busy dying…â€
Celebrating his birthday today, Adam Levine gets another featured post on this site, after a long line of featured posts. He may be close to earning his own official Category here (like David Beckham, Ben Cohen, Madonna, and Tom Ford) – those behemoths whose posts are so numerous and substantial that they merit a rarefied categorization of sorts. Mr. Levine has done his share of naked romping here, so here’s an almost-complete capsulation of his previous appearances:
It began with this naked Adam Levine shot, with some lucky hands covering his naked crotch way back in 2012.
He shaved it all off – at least his chest hair – for those moves like Jagger, and in this shirtless Adam Levine post.
That first iconic naked shot was backed up with this yoga GIF that doubles as a sex GIF if you use your imagination.
A peek at Adam Levine’s underwear was glimpsed in this post. Briefs, baby, briefs!
More of Levine in his underwear, and in motion, could be seen here.
He performed this beautiful rendition of Prince’s ‘Purple Rain.’
His naked ass finally made its much-ballyhooed appearance in this post.
It turns out that a nude Adam Levine ass-shot is all one needs to court a certain following for an otherwise-simple recap.
Even when it’s not all about him, a shirtless post where he plays a supporting part is made more fine with Mr. Levine’s nipple-baring presence.
Case in point is this male fantasy collection in which a shirtless Adam Levine bends over.
Did I post this nude Adam Levine GIF series yet? It bears repeated viewings.
This post had some naked Adam Levine GIFs and that was more than enough.
When Maroon 5 were announced as the Super Bowl half-time show, I hinted at something shirtless not thinking it would ever happen. Well, it happened. Adam Levine took his shirt off and the place lit up.
Who knew a half-naked Adam Levine would ignite such a furor?
Anyway, Happy Birthday to the man at hand – and many happy returns of the day!
It always feels wrong to listen to ‘Manic Monday’ on any day other than Monday.
But every day is right to ‘Walk Like An Egyptian.’
[Cue the whistling part.]
Strike a pose on a Cadillac.
Disruptive Mercury is once again in retrograde, where it shall remain for much of the month of March. Hold on to your hats and underwear as we try to ride this one out (unless you’re featured ginger Seth Fornea). If you’re still recovering from too much partying on St. Patrick’s Day, HA HA. I’m apoplectic, on with the recap…
The Bloodstone Bracelet: Not Another Nancy Drew Mystery or Harry Potter Prequel (I don’t care who Dumbledore fucked).
Go to any one of these posts, click on the “#TinyThreads” link at the bottom of each, and see how far back you can go. It’s like a little Fuck Your Own Adventure series.
Paint the town something.
It was Skip’s birthday, and it was grand.
One-two princes stand before you.
“It is such a secret place, the land of tears.“
The Madonna Timeline returned with a bang: this is ‘American Life.’
Hot-ass gingers for your St. Patrick’s Day viewing pleasure.
Hunks of the Day included such hotties as Takaya Honda, Jim Brickman, Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon, Kyle Cooke, and Graysen Quinn.
‘Be My Baby’ – used in more movie set-up montages than any other song in recent memory. Why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why… do fools fall in love with fools like you?
“We’ll make them turn their heads everywhere we go…â€
May the luck of the gingers be with you today! I’ve long since retired from celebrating this holiday with pub crawl, so this racy redhead post will have to provide all the excitement for the day. Personally, I think it’s much better than warm green beer.
We begin with one of our most recent ginger success stories: Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon, the ‘American Idol’ contestant who captured the hearts of the country with his sweet original composition.
Perennial ginger favorite Seth Fornea gets the featured photo placement, and this additional shot simply because he maintains his smoldering carrot-top (and carrot-midsection) flavor.
One of the greatest gingers ever to be featured here in nude glory was Greg Rutherford. See his naked ass here.
Broadway wonder Ricky Schroeder bared his beautiful bottom in this angelic post.
Actor and Twitter-phenom Daniel Newman made a dirty-ginger splash in this Hunk of the Day redux.
Witness the red-locked dreaminess of Race Imboden in this Olympic post.
Last year, Thomas Brady was Hunk of the Day on St. Patrick’s Day, and he is worth a re-look.
The year before that, Asger Skovgaard stuffed his gingerness into some briefs.
One hot-ass ginger.
Bringing ginger glory to RuPaul’s Pit Crew, Bryce Eilenberg burns up every post he’s in – see it all here.
Football ginger Jon Ryan brings hue and length to the sexy scene.
Red-blooded and red-headed Eddie Eduardo brings up his banging ginger rear to end this post. Happy St. Patrick’s Day (and apologies to the Saint who most likely didn’t deserve this).
This may be an unpopular stance, but I am NOT here for a Britney Spears Broadway musical.
{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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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.
SONG #148: ‘American Life’ – Spring 2003
My PSA for the Day: if you’re an allergy-sufferer like myself, it’s almost time for the seasonal shift to begin wreaking its havoc. To give myself a fighting chance against the pollen storms, I start my allergy pill routine now, to build up as much resistance as I can before the big pile-on of allergens. Just a little hint that has worked out well in the past. If you wait until the first time you feel a sneeze attack coming on, it’s probably too late. Nothing worse than playing catch-up in the spring.
Call me fucking Heloise.
“I have suffered too much grief in setting down these memories. Six years have already passed since my friend went away from me, with his sheep. If I try to describe him here, it is to make sure that I shall not forget him. To forget a friend is sad. Not everyone has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown-ups who are no longer interested in anything but figures…†~ Antoine De Saint-Exupery, ‘The Little Prince’
Speaking of princes, that book that we “traded†for the copy that Suzie’s brother had was never even read by us. ‘The Little Prince’ would stay on our bookshelf for years, untouched with pages unturned, and I didn’t return to it until Suzie loaned me her version – a much nicer hardcover edition with pictures, as originally published. In preparation for an upcoming project, I opened it and read the story for the first time. All these years later, I was brought back to childhood – to the wonder and amazement of reading a classic story for the first time. (I also have a costume idea for a future party, because this little Prince has a sense of fashion that is elegant, refined, and just the slightest bit whimsical. The coat pictured here is divinity in progress. I just need to find the wizard who can make one. All able thread magicians are encouraged to contact me. Looking at you, Christian Siriano.)
“If someone loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself: ‘Somewhere, my flower is there…’ But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened… And you think that is not important!â€
He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing…
I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears. ~ Antoine De Saint-Exupery, ‘The Little Prince’
