A Diva Dances Again
review by Alan Bennett IlaganM' Lady—how we have missed you. Fleeing the English countryside, Madonna regains her throne as Queen of the Dance Floor, returning to the music that started it all. The woman who was once considered a flash-in-the-pan has released her tenth studio album (not counting soundtracks, singles, and greatest hits compilations). Appropriately entitled Confessions on a Dance Floor, the album more than lives up to its moniker, featuring a seamless, non-stop collection of delicious dance pop. The beat hardly ever slackens, and it's a timeless testament to Madonna that she can still boogie-woogie with the best of them.
Things begin with the ticking of a clock, a clever reference to time going forward, and perhaps backward, as the much-ballyhooed Abba sample comes slowly into prominence on lead-off track "Hung Up". Setting the tone for the entire album, the single promises that this will be the gayest dance album she's made in a quite a long while. For those wondering whether she had forsaken the gay audience who has never let her down, this is a glorious homecoming. A Queen among queens, Madonna always returns to the comfort of her core audience when the chips are down and the stakes are high. (Witness her surprise appearances at the Roxy and Misshapes in New York City, and a planned gig at G.A.Y. in London.) She knows where her bread is buttered, and nothing makes us happier than when she's burning up the dance floor. With "Hung Up" she stages a veritable disco inferno, and the video for it shows off her most spirited break-neck dancing since 1998's Ray of Light. Confessions may well be her best record since that work. Though lacking the lyrical majesty and epic import of Light, the words here are secondary to the music. And what a fine bit of dance music it is, recalling the disco fever of the 70's and 80's.
"Get Together" is pop confection at its sweetest, with Madonna chirping "Can we get together/ I really wanna be with you/ Come on, check it out with me," just like the old days. Music and message come joyfully together on "Jump." An unabashedly guilty romp, replete with syncopated hand-claps, it opens with Madonna stating, "There's only so much you can learn in one place." It's an anthem that has run through her endless career, and an affirmation that even with all of the backward glances on the album (and there are quite a few), Madonna's sight is fixed unflinchingly on what is yet to come. That she backs the sentiment with such melodic magnificence is what makes her best songs so compelling, and nothing is more riveting than the third track, "Sorry."
Easily the zenith of this club-ready dance-a-thon, "Sorry" is quite possibly her greatest dance song since "Vogue" strutted its stuff back in 1990. It races along with a thunderous bass-line, bad-ass attitude, and an empowering dismissal of a man who's done her wrong one too many times. A modern-day "I Will Survive", it is the centerpiece of the entire album, and wisely scheduled to be the second single. "Sorry" is destined for club glory—an instant classic that will have gay boys and scorned lovers viciously stomping out their vengeance beneath the disco ball.
In fact, Confessions references a number of club classics, along with a few of Madonna's own hits. There's the aforementioned Abba influence on "Hung Up"; "Future Lovers" borrows heavily from Donna Summer's "I Feel Love"; "Jump" is vaguely reminiscent of "We Are Family" (with its "My sisters and me" line); "Push" picks up the lyrical chorus of "Every Breath You Take"; and "Let It Will Be" is a sonic reminder of the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams Are Made of This".
Along with the retro glimpses, Confessions echoes more recent influences as well. The vocoder-enhanced singing on "Forbidden Love" sounds like the lovechild of Daft Punk and Air, while "How High" could be a razor-sharp cut from the Scissor Sisters album. Despite these wide-ranging allusions, the album is essentially a Madonna record, and even when she's accessing her own vast catalog of the past twenty years ("Get Together" is a modern-day companion to 1983's "Holiday") the music is rooted firmly in the future.
Despite its highs, it wouldn't be a proper Madonna album without the obligatory bomb. Thankfully there's just the one. In this case, the lone bum track is "I Love New York." What could have been a sassy ode to the night-life of her favorite city is instead a rock-tinged stinker, with inane lyrics decrying other cities and a lazy chorus that almost puts a stop to the otherwise spectacular proceedings. Fortunately it's followed by the incendiary "Let It Will Be." When she wails, "Just watch me burn," and the bass kicks in, it's an irresistible hands-in-the-air get-thee-to-the-dance-floor hole-in-one.
It's a relief to note that her knack for a catchy hook and killer chorus has returned, following its brief absence on 2003's American Life. Though that album was unfairly judged as anti-American (its release came at a time of ridiculous patriotic fervor), some of it did fall flat, and the worst of it sounded like Madonna was simply going through the motions. On Confessions, the hunger is back in her voice, the spunk is back in her step, and she's primed to pump it up like never before. The fierce re-appearance of such pluck and attitude is apparent in the promotional performances for the new album.
On the recent European Music Awards, Madonna opened the show in thrilling trademark fashion. Resplendent in a purple leather jacket, knee-high amethyst platform boots, and reddish-blonde Farrah-feathered hair, our once-and-future Queen of Career-Enhancing Controversy stripped down to a daring violet leotard and crawled to the edge of the stage, all dangerous dˇcolletage and come-hither eyes. It was 1985 all over again, a time when Madonna performed virtually the same seductive crawl on the virgin MTV Video Music Awards. That year she mopped up the stage (literally and figuratively) with her infamous debut performance of "Like A Virgin". Returning to the scene of that iconic crime, Madonna proves that she still has it.
Over twenty years into an unprecedented, never-let-up pop superstar career, she continues on her merry way, doing her own thing, uncompromising and defiant as ever. In those two decades the one constant has been Madonna's presence and relevance. True, it's dimmed and waned at times, but name one other celebrity who has sustained mainstream success for such a long run.
The joy and exuberance of this album, two elements largely ignored in her recent work, is a fundamental factor to the fun of Confessions. A pleasant Halcyon reminder of a more carefree and innocent time when the world was just a spinning disco ball and the beat was all that mattered. This record is a mighty resurrection—both for Madonna and for dance music as well. Not surprisingly, it's never been needed more. As she once sang, "I know a place where you can get away, it's called the dance floor, and here's what it's for." No one knows that more than Madonna, and nobody does it better.