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A Little Bit Dangerous

You pack your bag.

You take control.
You’re moving into my heart
and into my soul.
Get out of my way!
Get out of my sight!
I won’t be walking on thin ice to get through the night.

It was 1990. The dawn of a new decade. I was a freshman in high school. Scared, frightened, meek, but just a little audacious, I wanted to be the girl in this song – the dangerous one. The one who had eyes that hit like heat. There was power in being perceived that way. There was power in beauty – and a sinister elegance in danger. I knew then, however, that true power and danger didn’t need to announce themselves boldly and grandly. They didn’t shout or cause a commotion. They didn’t attack or assault.

It was the quiet ones you had to worry about.

If I portrayed danger, it was in the name of protection, like those poisonous caterpillars who displayed their colorful plumage-like shells to ward off any would-be predators. I was small and slight. Against a brawny football player I didn’t stand a chance. Against a riled-up teacher, I was powerless. It’s a wonder I was so daring and so mean. (Sometimes you have to be a little mean to survive.) That was the business of high school. That was the game.

Hey, where’s your work?
What’s your game?
I know your business
but I don’t know your name…
Hold on tight,
you know she’s a little bit dangerous.
She’s got what it takes to make ends meet
the eyes of a lover that hit like heat.
You know she’s a little bit dangerous.

Popularity was the main currency of those ridiculous high school days. That wasn’t what I was after. Hell, after a while I didn’t even hope for acceptance. Mostly what I wanted to do was survive. I wanted to get through it all relatively unscathed. Brutality waited around every corner ~ the burning end of a cigarette in the bathroom was always attached to the hairy arm of an older boy who would either smile or stub it out on the back of your neck as soon as you took your place at a urinal and unzipped your pants.

In the locker room, in those scant minutes we had to change after physical education, roving packs of pugnacious and puerile boys ran amid the maze of metallic boxes, honing in on their prey and taking their squirming catch around the corner to the showers. I never stayed to watch what happened next.

You turn around, so hot and dry.
You’re hiding under a halo, your mouth is alive.
Get out of my way!
Get out of my sight!
I’m not attracted to go-go deeper tonight.

Somehow I managed to skirt all of that. We’re often a little more popular than we think we are. (And sometimes, a lot less.) I was never great at reading the crowd, so I did my own thing – flagrantly and yet unassumingly. The stray skirmish at lunch, the random bloody nose, the whispers of a knife – they passed right by. I was more cloak than dagger. When I eventually did come out of my shell, I’d already built a fortress around me.

Hey, what’s your word?
What’s your game?
I know your business
but I don’t know your name…
Hold on tight…

A few years later I really did turn a little bit dangerous. I was careless with hearts, dismissive of love, and had a predilection for hurting anyone before they could get close enough to hurt me. Strangely, and somewhat sadly, that sort of danger seems to hurt the one who wields it more than anyone else.

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The Art of the Jockstrap

If there’s one item of clothing this blog has supported wholeheartedly over the years, it’s the jockstrap. Both utilitarian and stylish, useful and sexy, ubiquitous and precious, the jockstrap has proven itself a prime example of when substance and style merge into one iconoclastic item. Andy Boyer aimed, and succeeded, in infusing a brand-new twist into the jockstrap we all knew and loved. He created The Crochet Empire, (taking more orders next month) in which he offers custom-made crocheted jockstraps. His variation on the hallowed athletic supporter is a cozy yet breathable option for those who don’t like the standard scratchiness of traditional jocks. While Andrew Christian has run deliciously wild with design in regards to jock wear, Mr. Boyer offers a painstakingly hand-made interpretation that rivals Mr. Christian in artful intricacy.

Boyer’s work is the result of a sexy template and individually-tailored crochet work. These jockstraps give a little to accommodate your most sensitive organs, while provided enough support to keep them secure and safe. It’s like a little hug for your cock and balls, embracing you as long as you keep it on.

The charms of such artisanal efforts don’t stop at the jockstrap; there are bow ties and belts and other accents available, and custom-options that allow one to perfectly match their underwear with their outerwear. In a world of mass-production, where people have the same Gap shirt and the same North Face jacket, it’s a refreshing luxury to find a place that produces one-of-a-kind items.

The unique slant that Boyer puts on each item, and the hours of work and toil that go into every piece, are evident in the quality and beauty of the end result. It takes a little longer to produce such a masterpiece (the popularity of the product has resulted in a bit of a lag) but it’s well worth the wait. I’m sure I’ve called the jockstrap a work of art before, but I never really meant it until now.

A planned runway show, ‘Super Jocks in Super Jocks’ is scheduled for May 10, 2015 in Chicago. It will be hosted by Bianca del Rio and will benefit TPAN, a local HIV/AIDS organization. Hunky guys will sport a few of the Super Jock designs, and then the jockstraps that they wore will be auctioned off. If that’s not the best mix of sexy and serious, I don’t know what is. Bonus: readers of this blog (yes, that’s you if you’ve made it this far) get an additional 15% off with this code: ABI15. They should be up and taking orders in a few weeks, so check back to check out.

PS – My signature colors are lime green and Tiffany blue, with a dash of fuchsia for some interest, in the hopeful event that someone sees fit to gift me one of these works of art. I’d even model it for you…

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NSFFB ~ Not Safe For FaceBook

With all the stuff I post, I’ve had a couple of run-ins with the FaceBook picture police. While Kim Kardashian can show her booty in all sorts of greased-up, uncovered, ready-for-anal glory, it appears the rest of us mere mortals get spanked for it. I’d just assumed it was because her derriere was prettier and meatier than mine, but what if there’s a double-standard at FaceBook that allows for women to show off their assets but not gay guys? They’ve already shown some questionable targeting of drag queens in their recent requirement for real names to be used (there was never such a stink made when we all changed our middle name to ‘Hussein’ in a show of support for Obama during his 2012 election run).

Now it seems that FaceBook has been selectively targeting gay male photos for censorship. Dirk Caber and Jesse Jackman posted the black and white feature photo above and it was reported as pornographic. Other FaceBook stories involved a gentleman who was banned from FaceBook for posting a photo of two uniformed gay policeman, just because some homophobic jerk reported the photo.

There are spring break shots of ladies that are pornographic, but a loving depiction of two men seems to raise the red flags – such as the ones posted here. Do they push the envelope? Perhaps. Are they pornographic? I don’t think so. Lest anyone think I’m too open and accepting with regards to sexual images, please note that I don’t post full-frontal nudity, male or female, here (nor do I allow it on my FaceBook or Twitter timelines). But I don’t mind a butt shot (hell, it’s practically my livelihood) nor do I find issue with female breasts (what’s good for the goose is good for the gander).

As for these images, I find them beautiful. I find them pure. I find them loving. If you find them pornographic or dirty, that says more about you than it does about me or the gentlemen presented here.

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A Recap for the Last Week of Winter

This is it: the last official week of winter! We are about to kick this motherfucker to the curb because I am so done with it I was contemplating a move to Florida. That’s crazy talk, but we’re in crazy mode until this snow goes. We’re almost there. My friend JoAnn spent the past weekend with us, and it was the perfect reunion – but more on that a bit later. For now, a look back.

Madonna was back in full-force ~ a lovely return to pop culture form that will continue during her appearance on the Ellen Degeneres show all this week. The ‘Rebel Heart’ album is an epic release – her best work in a decade – and one that embellishes and adds to a musical legacy that was confirmed legendary many years ago.

Jason Dundas was lucky enough to interview Madonna, and that was enough to get him christened as a Hunk of the Day.

Music makes the people come together, as evidenced by local luminary Caleb Eick and his senior recital.

Waiting for the end of winter… and this too shall pass.

Boston Renaissance Man Ricardo Rodriguez made his debut as Hunk of the Day, only his latest honor in a long string of accomplishments.

Sunday morning with the Ilagan twins.

This Hutch (Dano) was not made for your dining room (mostly because he’s shirtless.)

We had a gay old time.

One Hunk of the Day by request ~ James Norton ~ and a group of British gentlemen who took it off before.

Boom! A Special Guest Blog by a dear old friend: JoAnn ‘JoJo/Josie’ MacKinnon.

A gift for JoJo: this shirtless post on Jason Statham.

Finally, Max Emerson was honored as a Hunk of the Day for s second time thanks in no small part to his underwear web series.

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Statham, Jason: Shirtless

For my friend JoAnn, who’s visiting this weekend, and who just wrote the Special Guest Blog of the week, I offer these photos of one of her favorites: Jason Statham in various states of shirtlessness. Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of Mr. Statham, but I love my JoJo, so here you go. She’s always liked them a little rough around the edges… and smoking’ hot.

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BOOM: Special Guest Blog

{A friend is someone who sees you at your worst and still manages to see you at your best. I’ve known JoAnn MacKinnon since 1998, and in all these years she’s provided a loyal and lasting friendship in the face of some difficult days. We’ve had quite a few comical adventures together – bumming a light (and a cigarette) off some unamused stranger in Copley Square, locating a bark-less basenji off the Orange Line, and breaking down over the prospect of turning forty (hers was first, mine is coming up). For every bad break-up and every sad loss, there have been healing moments and happy moments, and in the end we’ve built a life shared together – the best and only way to do life right.}

Boom. Chutney. Cheese Pizza.

Guest Blog by JoAnn ‘JoJo’ MacKinnon

Soulmate. When people hear that word they think about it in the romantic sense. Well I am here to say that is not always the case. I believe Alan and I are soulmates without a doubt. Al and I met about 17 years ago which seems like yesterday and at the same time it seems like a lifetime ago. We met while working at John Hancock in Boston which is a blog in itself. The point I want to make, the message I want to convey is that we are two very different people with a deep connection.

It has been known that straight, single women feel that they can change a gay man; they will be the one to “turn him around”. They can get him to fall in love with her. It’s ludicrous and humorous and will never, ever happen. I would never want to change a thing about Al or our relationship. Yes we have been called ‘Will and Grace’ and yes to a degree maybe we do have the stereotypical ‘straight, single woman/ gay male, best friend dynamic’ going on and that’s fine with me. He knows what would look nice on me; he knows what colors compliment my skin, hair and eye color. He pays attention. He is generous. He is always sending me hand-written notes and compilations of carefully-selected music that he knows I will enjoy. He gives me articles of clothing from his private collection and whenever I visit he always has a gift waiting for me in the guest room. When we are together I feel such joy.

I have accompanied Al to many pride events in the Albany area. I enjoy that. It’s important to me. I want to support love whenever I can. I remember at one event I happened to look out onto the dance floor and I saw couples dancing. I saw someone for everyone. I never even saw that they were mostly same sex couples. I don’t see color, I don’t see sexual orientation. I don’t care. What I care about is that you are a kind, honorable, good person. That’s what I care about. It sickens me; it saddens me that people have hatred and prejudice in their hearts.

Why do gay marriage and relationships bother some folks? Why do they care? Why do they spend their time on worrying about two people who love each other? The message I send to those haters is this, there are many things worth worrying about: worry about child sex slaves in the world, in fact get off your ass and find a way to help. Worry about corrupt politicians, worry about our soldiers fighting senseless wars, worry about them dying. Please don’t worry about two people who are in love.

True love is rare. If you are lucky in life perhaps you will experience it and if you do, don’t let it go. Alan is my friend. Alan is my soulmate, and I hope we stay together for a long, long time.

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Classic Across-the-Pond Hunks

Continuing in the throbbing vein of James Norton, these gents hail from the other side of the Atlantic. A quick round-up of British Hunks begins in proper form with the premier gay icon and straight ally Ben Cohen. Mr. Cohen is wildly famous in these parts thanks to posts like this and pics like this. The two shots here should go a long way toward explaining why. A frequent subject of beefcake images and deeper features, Mr. Cohen and his StandUp Foundation have shown the world what a real man can – and should – accomplish.

For lighter fare, feast your eyes upon the soap star studliness of Gary Lucy. I’d move to the capital just to be able to watch his cheesy shows.

Hopefully while there I’d get to run into Dan Osborne on one of his training expeditions. Given the body of work he’s created, I’m guessing he spends a lot of time in training.

Though Mr. Osborne has gotten a little out of hand with the manscaping, Harry Judd knows how to keep things trimmed but not chicken-plucked.

Speaking of fine and fit Harrys, a British tribute to manhood would not be complete without some royalty – and no one is more royally sexy than Prince Harry – especially when he’s giving a glimpse of skin.

Last but most certainly not least, and bringing up the finest rear on either side of the ocean, is David Beckham. While he’s been slightly stingy of late regarding underwear pics, his legacy is set in rock-hard stone.

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Woe Be Winter

This is not over yet, but far from the rallying love cry of redemption and hope in Jason Robert Brown’s similarly titled 11th-hour number from ‘Parade’ (how reassuring to know I can still pull a relatively obscure musical reference out of my ass) this is more of a lament than anything else, as a storm threatens us once again. It matters not, and I mark the inevitable end of winter and ceaseless march of time with a quick time-lapse series of a single day in the snow. Let it also be accented with a quote by Marcus Aurelius:

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.

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A Tale of Two Outfits

For this year’s Gay Soiree, I had the privilege of watching Jeze Bel shine in this glorious Glinda get-up, while I stepped out in a houndstooth suit, corset, and ridiculously-heeled boots. All in all, it was a hoot and a half, and a badly-needed dose of glamour and fun in this never-ending winter.

I switched it up from the black lace underwear I wore to last year’s event to something much warmer, seeing as how I froze my lacy ass off that first time around. Wool is a much better choice for a chilly evening in early March. As for the venue, it was in one of those hidden jewels of downtown Albany – in a space that I believe had once been a bank (as so many gorgeous buildings once were). Thanks to the atmosphere and the Wizard of Oz theme, it was a magical night that felt like stepping into a Technicolor fun-house. I’m already looking forward to next year’s event.

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A Mid-Day Late-Winter Poem

Lines For Winter 
by Mark Strand

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself –
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

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Twinning in the Winter

There’s nothing quite like having a fun Sunday morning after a sleepover at the tail-end of winter. Last weekend we had the twins over and they kept us busy all the way through Sunday. When they asked to stay for a little longer while their Dad had to pick up some wood, I couldn’t refuse. The photographs speak for themselves.

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A Wait at the End of Winter

WAITING

By John Malcolm Brinnin

 

What reasons may the single heart employ

When, forward and impervious, it moves

Through savage times and science toward the joy

Of love’s next meeting in a threatened space?

What privilege is this, whose tenure gives

One anesthetic hour of release,

While the air raid’s spattered signature displays

A bitter artistry among the trees?

 

Thus, in our published era, sweetness lives

And keeps its reasons in a private room;

As, in the hothouse, white hibiscus proves

A gardener’s thesis all the winter through,

So does this tenderness if waiting bloom

Like tropics under glass, my dear, for you.

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A Senior Recital: Caleb Eick

Back in my high school days, I played the oboe. I was pretty good, but I was far from great. While music came pretty naturally to me, the oboe is an unnatural, and decidedly difficult, double-reeded woodwind to master. Thanks to a wonderful private teacher, Mrs. Green, and hours of work and perseverance, I managed to do decently enough for various NYSSMA performances and ultimately ended up making it into the Empire State Youth Orchestra – a rather competitive place for young local musicians. I also had the opportunity to perform with the Albany Symphony Orchestra and the Schenectady Symphony Orchestra. The point of this thin musical résumé is that I know how much hard work and effort goes into making a career in the arts – especially in the world of music. You have to be dedicated, driven, and basically obsessed with perfecting a craft that is largely imperfect. Very few are the times when you feel you’ve had a perfect performance – but that is precisely the goal of many a musician. It’s an elusive quest, but a noble one, and so my heart always feels a certain tug for those who attempt such a path.

Caleb Eick is one such musician. Currently, he is preparing for his Senior Recital this Friday. A baritone majoring in Vocal Performance, Mr. Eick knows the discipline and work ethic involved in a musical career. Music also opened a world of acceptance and possibility for someone who preferred Chopin to science or sports. (Not that classical artists were his sole inspiration; he equally favors the work of Panic! At the Disco and Paramore.) Last year he was named the first Auriel Scholar at the College of Saint Rose:

The Auriel Scholar program is an educational program, aimed at mentoring college-aged voice students, that provides practical experience and knowledge of the inner workings of a professional arts organization. Students involved in this program have the opportunity to sing in a fast-paced professional choir, acquire advanced choral and vocal skills, learn challenging repertoire and add practical performance experience to one’s resume – all the while learning the business skills it takes to become a music professional. The Auriel Scholar program is a valuable apprenticeship that helps students get a head-start on their professional musical careers.

His Senior Recital is scheduled for this Friday (you are are all invited) and will feature works by Lully, Campra, Bellini, Verdi, Schumann, Bizet, Gounod, and Vaughan Williams. A challenging program, Mr. Eick has been preparing for it for over a year, and it contains pieces that span from the Baroque period to Late Romantic and 20th Century works. Great music transcends time, and great musicians remind us of that.

Music made sense. It allowed one to move in ways you couldn’t in any other situation. Music allowed me to connect with people on a deeper level that we don’t allow ourselves to in our everyday interactions. ~ Caleb Eick

The Senior Recital of Caleb Eick

Friday, March 13, 2015, 7:00pm
Kathleen McMannus Picotte Recital Hall
The College of Saint Rose
Albany, New York

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A Revelation & A Rebellion: Madonna’s ‘Rebel Heart’ Review

It’s become almost impossible to objectively review any Madonna album at this point in time. Thirty years of an unprecedented stint in the spotlight (a light that continues to shine brightly as everyone continues to offer their take on the woman). It’s worth resurrecting one of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes: ‘The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.’ To cavort, wrestle, and entangle yourself with the fickle beast of fame takes something altogether superhuman – to win more often than not takes a miracle. The fact that the world still has an opinion on Madonna – no matter what it may be – is proof that she’s still winning.

Ageist, sexist, and below-the-belt jabs aside, the single constant that most people side-step when it comes to the woman herself is what she has always done best: music. With ‘Rebel Heart‘, the music once again almost gets lost amid the tumultuous journey to get here: early leaks and piracy, sexy photo shoots and red-carpet ass-flashes, and that dangerously epic tumble on stage. Now that the album has seen its official release, the world can hear things as Madonna originally intended.

Opening with an instant Madonna classic, ‘Living For Love’, things get off to an anthemic powerhouse start, as a gospel-tinged chorus builds to a rousing hand-clapping climax. At first I was oddly unimpressed by the song. Yeah, it was good, but was it great? It took a few listens, one magnificent video, and a pair of live performances to reveal the merit of this. Madonna knows what she’s doing. That some of us still doubt and wonder only makes her prove it, and such drama is what drives much of the album.

“Tell me I’m no good and I’ll be great,” she defiantly commands on ‘Iconic’, following up,  “Say I have to fight and I can’t wait.” With a spoken-intro by Mike Tyson and a bit by Chance the Rapper, ‘Iconic’ is a pretty pop song draped in other distractions. As on bonus tracks like ‘Autotune Baby’ there’s a gorgeous song trapped within the skittering rap and musical madness, and she’s going to make you work to find it.

For ‘Rebel Heart’ Madonna worked with everyone and their mother ~ Diplo, Avicci, Nicki Minaj, Chance the Rapper, Natalia Kills, Nas, Kanye West, Alicia Keys and even Mike Fucking Tyson ~ and it’s apparent in the sometimes-jarring stand-alone construction of the songs. While some Madonna albums (‘Ray of Light’ or ‘Confessions on a Dancefloor’) work best as a cohesive whole, others offer a smorgasbord of songs that have nothing to do with one another (‘True Blue’ and ‘Music‘). Each format has its merits and drawbacks, and ‘Rebel Heart’ is decidedly in the latter bunch. The first eight songs alone are the very definition of extreme, veering from the wild and wonderfully crass ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ to one of the most tender songs she’s written in her career ‘Joan of Arc’. Such a roller coaster is sometimes difficult to stomach, but to her credit Madonna manages to wrap it all up into one giddy ride.

‘Devil Pray’ is a glorious folk song accented by electronic flourishes, vocal distortions, and a melody-line oddly reminiscent of ‘House of the Rising Sun’ while rumored second single ‘Ghosttown’ is the sort of power balladry that Madonna has never been given the due respect owed for such majesty. (See ‘Rain‘ or ‘Live to Tell‘ or ‘Drowned World’.) ‘Ghosttown’ is rife with apocalyptic images of the end of the world, but Madonna finds solace in holding onto another person. That sort of rumination is what lifts the album through its sagging points. Like the pair of bitch songs: ‘Unapologetic Bitch’ and ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’. The former stings an ex-lover over a reggae-electronic beat and the latter is an all-out aural assault on any naysayers. Those two cuts fall clearly on the ‘Rebel’ side of the equation, but they veer toward the grating. Madonna does rebellion more convincingly on ‘Veni, Vidi, Vici’ where she ticks off a list of all the provocative and milestone pop culture markers she’s staked over the years (name-dropping ‘Ray of Light‘, ‘Musicâ’, ‘The Power of Goodbye’, ‘Like A Prayer‘, ‘Open Your Heart’, and ‘Justify My Love’) and on challenging tracks like ‘Illuminati’ where she espouses the “all-seeing eye” and shoots down conspiracy theories with commanding authority.

Madonna’s own hurt and vulnerability form the crux of what makes her so lovable in spite of her self-obsessed tendencies. Scars form a metaphor for a number of cuts here: “We made it through the fire, Scarred and we’re bruised but our hearts will guide us,” she sings on ‘Hold Tight’, while ‘Beautiful Scars’ expounds upon its titular theme atop a percolating modern-disco backing track. After everything she’s been through (and put herself through) a few battle wounds are to be expected. For the woman who once showed off her naked body in ‘Sex’, she’s been largely uncomfortable in her skin – no one who shape-shifts in such chameleon-like ways could be entirely happy with herself. Madonna works that out through the music here.

One of the strongest cuts on the album, ‘Inside Out’ finds her seeking a deeper connection: “I wanna know what you’re all about, You’re beautiful when you’re broken down, Let your walls crumble to the ground… Every scar that you try to hide, all the dark corners of your mind, Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” It also boasts the best bridge Madonna has written in years ~ big, beautiful, and soaring: “Let’s cross the line so far we won’t come back, Can’t read your mind, I shouldn’t have to ask, Cynical smile, Time to take off your mask, I’m on your side so let me love you, let me love you.”

Madonna has said that she wanted to focus on solid song-writing this time around, and she’s largely succeeded, even if you have to hunt to find some of them. (Buried gems lie in hidden wait behind the distractions constructed around ‘Illuminati’, ‘Veni Vidi Vici’ and ‘Iconic’.) Other songs are more readily accessible. ‘Heartbreak City’ is emotionally haunting, chronicling the dark ending of a relationship, as the steady drum march drones toward its inevitable ending.

 

Despite its double entendres of soft porn and some almost-clunky car lyrics, ‘Body Shop’ allows Madonna to make the most casual and breezy delivery of a song in her entire career. Thanks to some super-sweet melodies, this is actually a stellar cut. It’s got wisps of world music to it, a gently-driving undertow of clap-along percussion, and a whimsical banjo base that lends a wistfulness that defies the listener not to sway along.

Then comes ‘Holy Water’ in which she out-Princes Prince himself – straddling the line between sacred and profane, sexy and silly, earnest and completely comical. It’s over-the-top, ridiculous, and epic in its electronic soundscape of the moment. Bonus: it directly quotes one of her biggest hits with an incomprehensible wink and nod.

Percussion plays a main role on this album, driving in some songs, dropping out in the middle of others, and it comes in all forms. From the natural hand-clapping of ‘Body Shop’ to the thundering beats of ‘Hold Tight’ to the racing programmed power of ‘Graffiti Heart’ it’s always exhilarating. Remember, Madonna got her start playing the drums, and the beat has always been her most powerful stock in trade. Even when something starts out as quietly as ‘Wash All Over Me’ the percussive march of time arrives to obliterate: “Torn between the impulse to stay, Or running away from all this madness. Who am I to decide what should be done? If this is the end, then let it come, let it come, let it rain, rain all over me.”

In the end, Madonna is at her best when stripped down and working a pop song within its basic framework. The lush orchestral grandeur of ‘Messiah’ and the gorgeous melody of ‘Joan of Arc’ find her at her most vulnerable (“I can’t be a superhero right now, Even hearts made out of steel can break down”) but the music is so rich the introspective lyrics are buoyed by her delicious delivery.

Title track ‘Rebel Heart’ provides the emotional apex and namesake centerpiece of the beautifully unwieldy collection, finding Madonna at a certain peace: “I’ve spent some time as a narcissist, Hearing the others say, ‘Look at you, look at you’ Trying to be so provocative, I said, “Oh yeah, that was me,” All the things I did just to be seen.”

Three decades into the fascinating career we’ve had the privilege to watch unfold before our eyes, she’s still finding new ways to surprise and rebel, and it’s still the best show in the business. As the brilliant ‘Graffiti Heart’ reminds us, Madonna played with Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring in the 80’s, and the artistic scene of New York City that was so fresh and vibrant and raw is something that Madonna, even in all her commercial success and polished personae, has kept as key to her artistic merit. Now she’s inviting the rest of us to show her our graffiti hearts, to reveal our scars, to confess and to be ourselves. Throughout all the guises she adopts in this latest romp ~ a rebel heart, unapologetic bitch, martyr, lover, sinner, and queen, there’s one thing she can’t help but be: Madonna.

Like its various versions (Standard, Deluxe, Super Deluxe) ‘Rebel Heart’ is a fragmented affair ~ a fascinating patchwork that almost becomes a rich tapestry, but even when it’s a mess, it’s a gorgeous mess (witness the sonic wonder of ‘Holy Water’ or the scattered multiple-personalities of ‘Iconic’). In the end, Madonna reveals and revels in the rebellion of her heart, and as she continues to forge new ground in the way a female artist is perceived and behaves, she proves to be as relevant as she was thirty years ago.

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Behold: She Comes Tomorrow

My review of Madonna’s ‘Rebel Heart’ album will be posted when it’s officially released tomorrow, but for now a brief look back at the woman who has inspired me more than anyone else in the world. There’s always something special about a new Madonna album, and every time it happens I feel the same excitement and electricity in the air. Though this one was muted slightly by early leaks, I can’t help but get caught up in the spirit as we anticipate tomorrow.

Madonna has released thirteen studio albums (not counting soundtracks or greatest hits collections) in her stellar career:

My favorite remains 1998’s ‘Ray of Light’ for reasons that have as much to do with the music as with whatever nonsense was going on in my life at the time. Madonna means something different to everyone, but you can’t say she doesn’t matter. In the end, isn’t that what we all want? To matter? Tomorrow, we see what her ‘Rebel Heart’ reveals…

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