Category Archives: Madonna

{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.}

This rather uninspiring bonus track from the otherwise-brilliant ‘MDNA‘ album is barely worthy of a Timeline Entry, but not every Madonna song can be great, so let’s get this over with. 

It mostly reminds me, fittingly, of my last birthday, when Andy and I drove out to The Mount – Edith Wharton’s upstate NY home. It was what I wanted to do – a quiet birthday celebration, low-key and under-the-radar, as most of my birthdays have been. In the car, I played this song a few times – a little Madonna gift to myself. 

Na na na na, na na na na na
Na na na na, na na na na na, gonna sing my song tonight
Na na na na, na na na na na
Na na na na, na na na na na, gonna sing my song tonight
Na na na na, na na na na na
Na na na na, na na na na na, gonna sing my song tonight

Song #105: ‘B-day Song’ – Summer 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.}

Universe is full of stars

Nothing out there looks the same

You’re the one that I’ve been waiting for

I don’t even know your name.

I’m in a trance,

I’m in a trance.

It is The Moment. You see him across the room, your eyes instantly lock, and you feel like you’ve known him all your life – or maybe it’s that you want to know him for the rest of your life. Whatever the case, and whatever tricks the universe is playing, you feel the spark and the catch and the racing of your heart. It isn’t just his beauty you admire, or the way his body moves – it’s in the way he looks at you. His eyes seem to see into your soul, examining all the things you’ve tried to hide, but somehow you feel he won’t judge them, somehow you know even then that he would never use them against you. At least, it feels that way, in the first instant.

Cosmic systems intertwine

Astral bodies drip like wine

All of nature ebbs and flows

Comets shoot across the sky

Can’t explain the reason why

This is how creation goes.

The throbbing bass of this song reminds me of my time in New Orleans many years ago, on the fateful evening when I lost my gay virginity. On the second tier of Oz, I leaned over and looked down upon the bar and dance floor. It was still early, and I was so young. In my lace-up International Male shirt (which a go-go dancer would later tell me he loved, as he squatted down with his crotch in my face), part of me thought I was such hot shit, and the other part of me thought I was just plain shit. Untouchable, because I never let them touch me, not in any real way, not in any way beyond the physical.

I don’t want nobody else.

All the others look the same.

Galaxies are sliding into view,

I don’t even know your name.

I’m in a trance,

And my world is spinning,

Spinning, baby, out of control

I’m in a trance

I let the music take me

Take me where my heart wants to go.

 I’m in a trance…

I turn around and find my way to the bathroom. A few doors are in a row, like some fairy-tale choose-your-own-adventure scene. I don’t want to choose the wrong one. Selecting the one in the middle, I open it without knocking and see two guys fucking.

They are joined at the hips and lips, in a frantic sort of desperate dance to some kind of death. Annoyed, one of them turns around and slams the door shut. In one hedonistic glimpse I saw the moment we’d all be chasing for the rest of our lives, whether we know it or not, whether we admit it or not. The moment of passion. The moment of ignition. The moment of connection.

The impressive instant.

Kiss me…

Kiss me…

Kiss me…

Kiss me…

In the way that gay clubs have of filling up in the span of a few minutes, Oz is suddenly brimming with people. Sitting at the bar in the midst of it all, I watch as the go-go dancer spins and squats before me, his combat boots deftly avoiding glasses and drinks, his smile an invitation and a warning all at once, his body the unattainable visage of distracting perfection that always leaves me befuddled.

“You’re not leaving already?” he asks with a grin, then a pout, when I stand up and back away from the bar. I thank him and wave good-bye. A few blocks down, I will meet a Greek sailor, and in an abandoned warehouse on the Mississippi River I will denounce the last remnants of what little innocence I ever possessed.

Universe is full of stars

Nothing out there looks the same

You’re the one that I’ve been waiting for

I don’t even know your name.

Song #104 ~ ‘Impressive Instant’ – Fall 2000

{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.}

Once upon a time I had plenty of nothing,
Which was fine with me.
Because I had rhythm, music, love,
The sun, the stars and the moon above,
Had the clear blue sky and the deep blue sea.
That was when the best things in life were free.

Then time went by and now I got plenty of plenty,
Which is fine with me.
‘Cause I still got love, I still got rhythm,
But look at what I got to go with ’em.
“Who could ask for anything more?” I hear you query.
Who would ask for anything more? Well, let me tell you, dearie.

Thus far, Madonna’s 1990 album ‘I’m Breathless’ has been represented by ‘He’s a Man‘, ‘Sooner or Later‘ and ‘Hanky Panky‘. Now, in timely fashion for gift-giving (and receiving) season, comes ‘More’. This is a Stephen Sondheim composition, and a pretty damn good one at that. The merging of Broadway and Madonna was a genius one, and one that made burgeoning gay boys like myself cream their pants with musical excitement. Madonna once hilariously commented that Sondheim songs were difficult to sing due to their chromatic wildness. Whatever the case, she manages to pull them off quite nicely here, and ‘More’ was a bouncier ditty than the other Sondheim contributions (‘Sooner or Later’ and ‘What Can You Lose?’) I’d tell you I composed a dance number to go along with it, but I’ve embarrassed myself enough here, thank you. Instead, let’s focus on the material aspect of things.

Got my diamonds, got my yacht, got a guy I adore.
I’m so happy with what I got, I want more!

Count your blessings, one, two, three
I just hate keeping score.
Any number is fine with me
As long as it’s more
As long as it’s more!

We’re all a little greedy, and most of us always want more than we have. I’m no holier-than-thou exception to that rule, but I know enough to realize that I have all I’ll ever need. Everything else is just gravy – fabulous, fashionable, Tom Ford-scented gravy. To that end, however, it means that I am considered one of the most difficult people to buy gifts for. It’s why I post a Christmas wish list every year (and set up a birthday registry once – don’t ask).

I’m no mathematician, all I know is addition
I find counting a bore.
Keep the number mounting, your accountant does the counting.

I got rhythm, music too, just as much as before
Got my guy and my sky of blue,
Now, however, I own the view.
More is better than nothing, true
But nothing’s better than more, more, more
Nothing’s better than more.

This year, almost everything was checked off the wish list – a collection of Crate & Barrel wine glasses to populate the new kitchen, a Tommy Hilfiger coat, several certificates for dining out (much-needed in these weeks without a kitchen), a Brooks Brother’s gift card, a new rice cooker and vegetable steamer, and Tom Ford’s ‘Bois Marocain’ Private Blend – a surprise from Andy that I didn’t even ask for. After all that, how could anyone still feel empty? Surely only a spoiled brat would complain…

One is fun, why not two?
And if you like two, you might as well have four,
And if you like four, why not a few
Why not a slew
More! More!

If you’ve got a little, why not a lot?
Add a bit and it’ll get to be an oodle.
Every jot and tittle adds to the pot
Soon you’ve got the kit as well as the caboodle.
More! More!

Never say when, never stop at plenty,
If it’s gonna rain, let it pour.
Happy with ten, happier with twenty
If you like a penny, wouldn’t you like many, much more?

There have been years when I didn’t make a list, but the gifts I received then proved that no one really understood me, no one ever got who I was and what I might want. That proved more upsetting and depressing than the guilt at getting everything I asked for, so since then I’ve made a list. At least that way I can pretend that people pay attention, that they listen throughout the year to what I say, that they care enough to figure out what appeals to me, along with what I already wear or have. I can hear the miserable ones on FaceBook and Twitter writing their ‘First world problems’ comments now… But really, what am I supposed to have, third world problems? I don’t live in that world.

Or does that sound too greedy?
That’s not greed, no, indeedy
That’s just stocking the store
Gotta fill your cupboard, remember Mother Hubbard.
More! More!

Back in 1990, I was less concerned with fashion or Ford. I hadn’t quite come into myself yet (in some ways we never do), though I knew how to dress well, and understood the power of appearance. For all that, I never asked for clothing or cologne or other sartorial accessories when it came to birthdays or Christmas. Don’t give me too much credit – I wasn’t asking for world peace either, but my wish list consisted of whimsical things ~ a lava lamp, a saltwater fish tank, a traffic light, a wave machine – the fascinating nonsensical objects one would find at Spencer gifts. My bedroom was a gallery of cheesy 80’s artifacts held together by plastic and powered by black power cords. At night, the flashing lights and other-worldly glow provided futuristic solace, but scant warmth.

Each possession you possess
Helps your spirits to soar.
That’s what’s soothing about excess
Never settle for something less.
Something’s better than nothing, yes!
But nothing’s better than more, more more
Except all, all, all… 

In the days after Christmas, when it seemed like we had it all, an inevitable disappointment crept into my room. The let-down of the post-holiday doldrums was wicked recompense for the build-up and excitement of all that anticipation. Getting what you want is always a tricky business. Emotional manipulation carries its own cost. What I was searching for was happiness, and it was something that couldn’t be bottled or sold or wrapped up under the tree. It is, I fear, something that no one else can give me ~ and, until I find it, I will always want more.

Except once you have it all
You may find all else a bore
That though things are bliss,
There’s one thing you miss, and that’s
More! More!
More! More! More! More!
More! More! More! 

Song #103: ‘More’ ~ Summer/Holidays 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.}

There was a time I was happy in my life
There was a time I believed I’d live forever
There was a time that I prayed to Jesus Christ
There was a time I had a mother
It was nice

Nobody else would ever take the place of you
Nobody else could do the things that you could do
No one else I guess could hurt me like you did
I didn’t understand, I was just a kid

He is chasing me up the stairs. I struggle to run faster, my feet slipping out from beneath me yet somehow I do not fall. It feels like the harder I run, the slower I go, as if I’m suspended slightly above the ground, on some virtual treadmill, my legs running faster and faster but my body moving ever slower. He is gaining on me. I scramble up more stairs, around the landing, and grab the banister to dash into my brother’s room. It still feels like I’m flying in slow-motion, over the rust-colored shag carpeting, around the corner and through the bathroom into the room where my Gram used to stay when she was alive. There, it happens, there he catches up to me, there I fall.

I turn around and see the frightening visage of something that was once amusing – the vampiric form of… Grandpa Munster – ? – from the old Munsters television show. Only he is an evil version of that character ~ eyes gouged out, fangs dripping with death, the malevolence clear and concisely concentrated on me. It is a monster, and it has a hold of me.

I have landed near the door to the hallway that leads to my parents’ room. It is open, and I try my best to scream out, to shout, because there, twenty feet away, stands my mother. She is putting on jewelry, her back to me, and the louder I try to scream for her, the less sound comes out. She doesn’t hear me, and if she does – the most terrifying possibility of this nightmare I’m having – she doesn’t respond. I scream and scream and scream because I know I am about to die, and she simply fastens her necklace and moves out of sight.

The dream ends. I wake in a panicked sweat, my face sore from crying, my jaw weak from trying to yell. It is one of the few recurring nightmares I will have in my childhood, and by far the most frightening.

Oh mother, why aren’t you here with me
No one else saw the things that you could see
I’m trying hard to dry my tears
Yes father, you know I’m not so free

I’ve got to give it up
Find someone to love me
I’ve got to let it go
Find someone that I can care for
I’ve got to give it up
Find someone to love me
I’ve got to let it go
Find someone that I can care for

Another entry from the maligned ‘American Life‘ album illuminates what an under-rated record this was in Madonna’s career. ‘Mother and Father’ addresses the loss, betrayal, often-difficult and ever-complex relationship between parents and children. In this song (as in some of her most powerful – like ‘Promise to Try‘ and ‘Oh Father‘ – Madonna laments the loss of her mother, the resulting distance from her father, and all the messy overlapping emotions that informed her entire childhood and made her into the woman who conquered the world. The woman who wouldn’t need anyone else.

There was a time I was happy in my life
There was a time I believed I’d live forever
There was a time I prayed to Jesus Christ
There was a time I had a mother
It was nice…

Anyone who’s ever had a parent can relate to something in this song. Anyone whose parents have ever treated them unfairly, or misplaced their blame, or simply felt hurt themselves, will be able to access the anger and rage, pain and heartache, so raw and tender that the scars have never gone away. It never can go away, either – those scars are with you for life. What you choose to do with them is what determines whether you can forgive. The alternative though, is the case of Madonna, who lost her mother very early in life.

My mother died when I was five, and all I did was sit and cry
I cried and cried and cried all day, until the neighbors went away
They couldn’t take my loneliness, I couldn’t take their phoniness
My father had to go to work, I used to think he was a jerk
I didn’t know his heart was broken, And not another word was spoken
He became a shadow of the father I was dreaming of
I made a vow that I would never need another person ever
Turned my heart into a cage, A victim of a kind of rage

And then the messy mix of emotions, the ravaging cuts of guilt, the way time works to heal some wounds while re-opening others, the never-ending push and pull between people whose love can work in ways both wonderful and hurtful. When the love you have in your childhood is tempered by those conditions, when you can tell that you might not be as well-liked as others, you wonder if all love will be like that. It’s debilitating in a way, and the harm that results is irreparable. You must choose then to move on or let it destroy you.

I gotta give it up
I gotta give it up

I gotta give it up
I gotta give it up
Find someone that I can care for
Find someone that I can care for

Yet even if you move on, even if you give up and let it go, even if you find someone you think you can love, who loves you in return, there will be doubt, there will be worry, there will be the nagging thought that you may never be worthy of love. Some of us can’t give it up. Some of us battle with the demons because they continue to battle with us. Some never change, repeating history, making the same misguided mistakes over and over. How do you give up on something so inextricably bound to the heart, even if it hurts?

I’ve got to give it up
I’ve got to let it go
I’ve got to give it up
Oh mother, oh father
I gotta give it up

I’ve got to give it up

Song #101: ‘Mother and Father’ – 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.}

I’m in love with you, you silly thing

Anyone can see

What is it with you, you silly thing?

Just take it from me

It was not a chance meeting

Feel my heart beating

You’re the one.

You could take all this, take it away
I’d still have it all
‘Cause I’ve climbed the tree of life
And that is why, no longer scared if I fall

When I get lost in space
I can return to this place
‘Cause, you’re the one

Nothing fails
No more fears
Nothing fails
You washed away my tears
Nothing fails
No more fears
Nothing fails
Nothing fails

In the grand tradition of ‘Like A Prayer’, both with its majestic chorus and its love-song-sentiment doubling as a spiritual declaration, ‘Nothing Fails’ is the 100^th Madonna Timeline entry. From 2003’s ‘American Life’ album, this is one Madonna moment that should have gotten more recognition – as well as a proper release (even if I can’t imagine it on the radio).

In a single powerful chorus, Madonna strips a career of religious references away, not to mention centuries of beliefs, to reveal the core of the matter: religion is a man-made belief-system. Spirituality is founded upon love ~ love for the earth, for the universe, for other human beings ~ and love is its own religion.

I’m not religious
But I feel so moved
Makes me want to pray
Pray you’ll always be here

I was hoping that the 100^th timeline might coincide with a more important milestone – instead, ‘Nothing Fails’ came at a relatively calm time: the start of spring 2003, when I was happily working in the Construction Management office at the Thruway Authority (an office of all gentlemen – God how I miss it), and the start of our second year in our current home, when things were finally settling down (and the remaining vestiges of 70’s carpet and wallpaper were at long last being excised). Those times of calm can often only be seen in retrospect, when one has the wisdom of distance. In my car, the ‘American Life’ album played on perpetual repeat, the latest incarnation of our Queen on hot and heavy rotation.

The song was a calming balm, a meditation on the infallibility and power of love. It was, like the best of Madonna’s work, an escape and a realization. Soaring on the growing chorus and rising strings, it carries the listener to a higher plane. The very best of music does that, taking you to a different space, a holier place, and somehow we are the better for it. Like most things having to do with Madonna, the journey was the reason. The way and the word.

I’m not religious
But I feel so moved
Makes me want to pray
Pray you’ll always be here

I’m not religious
But I feel such love
Makes me want to pray

For my part, I listened to it while driving to see friends, watching the budding trees rush by, or waiting for Andy to come to bed in the middle of the night. Shrouded in the mystery of love, the heart is also quelled by its power and force, the incontrovertible existence of emotion that has no discernible basis in scientific stats or concrete theories. Defying logic, forgetting reason, and flying in the face of fact, love fueled the human race. And when we didn’t know, when we couldn’t discern the workings of the heart, we created a system of beliefs to help us get our heads around it. Is that what religion originally was? Nothing more than a way of explaining science before we figured it all out on our own? I don’t know.

Sometimes I’m not even sure I know what love really is.

But sometimes… I am.

I’m not religious
But I feel so moved
I’m not religious
Makes me wanna pray
I’m not religious
But I feel so moved
I’m not religious
Makes me want to pray

Nothing fails
No more fears
Nothing fails
You washed away my tears
Nothing fails
No more fears
Nothing fails.

Song #100 – ‘Nothing Fails’ ~ 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.}

Like the sun, like the light, like a flame
Like the storm I burn through everything
Like a bomb in the night, Like a train
Thundering through the hills, Let it rain…

I’m a sinner, I like it that way…

Another highlight off Madonna’s most recent album ‘MDNA‘, this is the joyously unrepentant ‘I’m A Sinner’. It’s got the guitar-heavy William Orbit touches that made the ‘Ray of Light’ album such an organic, grounded experience, and some cheeky religious references to give it a classic Madonna edge. It’s also a fun sing-a-long, and one of the more merry bits of the MDNA Tour. In that performance, she mashes it up with an unlikely B-side, ‘Cyberraga’, in a genius melding that must be seen to be believed.

All the boys, all the boys and girls
Wanna be like us tonight
All the boys, all the boys and girls
Ride the magic bus tonight

I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way
I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way…

Like a moon with no light of my own
Search the sky for a place to call home
I woke up with my head in the fire
Get my kicks when I’m walking the wire

I’m a sinner, I like it that way…

All the boys, all the boys and girls
Wanna be like us tonight
All the boys, all the boys and girls
Ride the magic bus tonight

I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way
I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way…

For my part, this song was one of the first I danced to with my niece and nephew. They were two at the time, but already bouncing about and parading around the dining room. They won’t remember that, but I will.

Outside, the summer day shifted the shadow of the house over the lawn. The red wagon in which I’d pull them around the block sat waiting for the next ride. Inside, the carpet was soft against our bare feet, and we were dancing to Madonna. I was their silly Uncle, acting like a kid again, and it was like a dream and a prayer and the innocence of childhood all over again.

Hail Mary, full of grace
Get down on your knees and pray
Jesus Christ, hanging on the cross
Died for our sins, it’s such a loss
Saint Christopher, found my way
I’ll be coming home one day
Saint Sebastian, don’t you cry
Let those poison arrows fly…

Saint Anthony, lost and found
Thomas Aquinas, stand your ground
All the saints and holy men
Catch me before I sin again.

We were supposedly born with original sin thrust upon us, erased only with the magic of baptism, but how soon we soil ourselves again. One can’t get through childhood without getting a little dirty. For some of us, it’s more than a little. But dancing with a couple of two-year-olds, even at my ripe old age, I feel clean again, and pure, and I can say that I’m a sinner, that we’re all sinners, and revel in it with no shame.

My niece and nephew don’t yet know or care about sin. Their only concerns are that I can bring them around in their wagon, or dance like a lunatic in the dining room, or read them a story when they tire out. The worst atrocities they can commit are a few thrown toys and the occasional temper tantrum, but nothing that rises to anything remotely sinful.

That miraculous live version…

I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way
I’m a sinner, I’m a sinner,
I’m a sinner, I like it that way

You’re a sinner, you’re a sinner
You’re a sinner, you like it that way
We’re all sinners, we’re all sinners
We’re all sinners

Song #99: ‘I’m A Sinner’ ~ Summer 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.}

When did your name change from a word to a charm?
No other sound makes the hair stand up on the back of my arm
All of the letters push to the front of my mouth
And saying your name is somewhere between a prayer and a shout
And I can’t get it out…

The road is dark, but it’s a clear stretch for a couple of miles. It’s still early in spring, but this night is just warm enough to open the windows and slide back the sunroof. I reach my hand into the rush of air, feel it push against my skin then move beyond. I’m driving along the back roads of upstate New York, listening to Track 3 of the new Madonna album, ‘MDNA’. As on all her records, there are a few stand-out tracks that instantly take up residence in the ear, songs that you feel emotionally, viscerally, and all-encompassingly. ‘I’m Addicted’ is one of them. I crank up the volume and the car picks up speed.

When did your name change from language to magic?
I write it again on the back of my hand, and I know it sounds tragic
Fame’s like a drug and I can’t get enough and it fits like a glove
I’m addicted to your love
I’m addicted to your love
I’m addicted to your love…

The same excitement that accompanies the release of every Madonna album is palpable in the air. It will, I hope, always be that way for me. Other passions may ebb and wane, but Madonna has always managed to inspire. This night proves no different. I’m as giddy as I was on the nights that ‘Erotica’, ‘Bedtime Stories’, ‘Ray of Light‘,’Music‘, ‘American Life‘, ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor‘, and ‘Hard Candy‘ were released. And the best place to listen to new music is in the car – in solitude, in motion, in tune with the driving beat.

Now that your name pumps like the blood in my veins
Pulse through my body, igniting my mind, it’s like MDMA (and that’s ok)
Fame’s like a drug and I can’t get enough and it fits like a glove
I’m addicted to your love
I’m addicted to your love
I’m addicted to your love…

Street lights whiz by overhead, the wind swirls madly in and out of the car, and in a way the whole universe is dancing – the stars in the sky, the glistening raindrops left from earlier, and the glowing dashboard. We move together, at ear-throttling volume and break-neck speed, as her voice simultaneously rises and deepens at this, the climax of the whole thing, the whole night, possibly the whole album:

I need this exchange
I don’t care if you think that I’m strange
Something happens to me when I hear your voice
Something happens to me and I have no choice

I need to hear your name
Everything feels so strange
I’m ready to take this chance
I need to dance…

Release, relief, and utter abandon. If I could have lived my whole life like I feel at this moment – a perpetual high, a lofty joy – I might have made something more out of everything. Instead, these occasional Madonna peaks will have to do. I ride it tonight, soaring like the smallest water droplet on the crest of the wind, careening through the night sky in gleeful amazement and wide-eyed wonder. I can’t wait to do it again.

Fame’s like a drug and I can’t get enough and it fits like a glove
I’m addicted to your love
I’m addicted, I’m addicted, I’m addicted to your
I’m addicted, I’m addicted, I’m addicted to your love. 

Song #98: ‘I’m Addicted’ ~ Spring 2012