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.}

IF GRAFFITI ON THE WALL CHANGED ANYTHING AT ALL THEN IT WOULD BE ILLEGAL.

IF SCARS COULD GO AWAY, WHAT WOULD YOUR BODY SAY, DON’T EVER HIDE YOUR FEELINGS.

DON’T EVER TRY TO TAKE MY FREEDOM, YOUR IMPERFECTIONS, THIS WORLD NEEDS THEM.

A throwaway bonus track from the brilliant ‘Rebel Heart’ opus, ‘Graffiti Heart’ is a wild ride, beginning with a sweet sing-song melody before transforming into a gloriously racing whirligig that reaches breakneck speed and velocity. It’s got a retro-80’s vibe to it, and the friends and figures Madonna invoke – Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat for example – are perfectly suited to its raw reminiscence.

Madonna once told the story of when she first arrived in New York City in her early twenties. Intent on being heard, intent on being seen, intent on being someone, she said she would walk through the city staring everyone straight in the eye, willing herself to be remembered by them because she was going to be somebody. We should have known then…

WHAT DO YOU GOT, SHOW ME YOUR BASQUIAT

HE DIDN’T KEEP IT ALL TO HIMSELF

EVEN WITH KEITH OUT ON THE STREET,

HE DIED FIGHTING SO YOU CAN DO IT AS WELL 

It was a different world, a different time. As raw and gritty as it may have been, there was a freshness tinged with innocence at the start of the 80’s, but maybe that’s just my nostalgic childhood shading things into something sweeter than they ever were. But if Madonna could feel like a virgin as she embarked upon her world-rattling career, why shouldn’t the rest of us join in on the shiny and new?

LOVE IS PAIN AND PAIN IS ART!

SHOW ME YOUR GRAFFITI HEART

LOVE IS PAIN AND PAIN IS ART!

SHOW ME YOUR GRAFFITI HEART

Madonna has spent a lifetime surrounding herself with artists – gypsies, shape-shifters, chameleons, and tricksters- soaking up their inspiration and creativity, taking it in and transforming it into something new, or at least hybridized. Singers and actors and writers and models have remained constant in her world, and after three decades of success as an artist, she in turn has inspired others. It can’t be said that she hasn’t been selfish at times – a great degree of that is necessary to have remained such a potent force for such a long time – but as she eases into this stage of her career, the collaborations and investments in artists other than herself are becoming more apparent.

On her recent Rebel Heart Tour, during the emotional centerpiece of the show (an almost-acoustic straight-forward reading of ‘Rebel Heart’), she introduced a series of fan-made art of her various guises through the years. As much as Madonna has made her relationship with her fans the one real lasting romance in her life, her acknowledgment of that in her concerts and interviews has always come off as somewhat trite and obligatory. This brief moment of sharing the stage with those who have loved her the most was one of the more authentic and genuine shows of affection that she’s given to us over the years.

FRIDA SHOWED HER FEELINGS, PAINTING FROM THE CEILING BACK IN THE BEGINNING.

NOTHING’S WHAT IT SEEMS, SHE PAINTED ALL HER DREAMS, SHE MADE HER OWN REALITY.

DON’T EVER TRY TO TAKE MY FREEDOM, YOUR IMPERFECTIONS, THIS WORLD NEEDS THEM.

‘Graffiti Heart’ does a little bit of that too. Madonna is nothing if not the lucky vehicle for her muses. This song brings back the early eagerness and hunger for making an impact through artistic expression. It’s very much a sentiment of youth, but one that Madonna has managed to retain throughout her ever-extending run. Her best moments come when she is thirsty for that explosion of art and music, when she remembers walking down the streets of New York wanting nothing more than to make a memorable mark.

Whether you love or hate her, you cannot deny that Madonna has contributed a magnificent amount of pop art to our culture. Her amalgamation of music and image paved the way for every major artist today, and she made herself and her image into her own work of art. The world will never be like it was in the 80’s, when Madonna and Michael Jackson and Prince could hold the pop culture trinity in their hands and gain the collective focus of a moment. We have splintered into too many pieces, with too many options, and it’s unlikely that any single entity will hold the rapt attention of the world as a whole in such a manner again. That won’t stop Madonna from trying, and every now and then she’ll do something (like calling out the so-called president on his bullshit) that acts as a lightning rod moment.

THEY CAN BREAK DOWN AND TAKE DOWN

BUT THEY CAN’T DESTROY OUR HISTORY

THIS WALL, IT MUST FALL

TO MAKE ROOM FOR OUR MASTERPIECE

She’s never been afraid to express herself. There is a boldness and a rebellion to that, especially at a time when some of us are being told to be quiet. It is the job of the artist to push against that, no matter what the consequences. Our graffiti hearts bleed a little every time we put our art out there. It’s something the more wisely-guarded and private people never have to experience, and for every rare success there are a multitude of painful failures and misunderstood endeavors that have left their scars. We cry, we wail, we scream, we fight, and in the end we are battle-worn and sometimes defeated. A true artist doesn’t stop there, though. We rally through. We create until the death – of our impulses, our visions, or the imperfect vessels of our human form.

IF GRAFFITI ON THE WALL CHANGED ANYTHING AT ALL THEN IT WOULD BE ILLEGAL.

SONG #135: ‘Graffiti Heart’

{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 will never rain, never rain

If the great sky falls down, no rain, no more rain

Blood’s pouring down, high alert, we watch it burn

It’s a world undeceived, sirens, sirens

Everyone’s whispering, the CIA, MI6

Hire the unknown

We’re at the end of days

For heaven’s sake 

The queen’s been slain

She’ll never rule again

The queen’s been slain

She’ll never rule again

Your queen’s been slain

Queen’s been slain

This lackluster Madonna Timeline entry was one of the’ Rebel Heart’ bonus tracks, and it probably should have been left off that hodge-podge too as it is a dirge-like bummer of a song. I suppose it holds a certain power and grace, offering a hint of royalty and a time of manners and honor and respect long gone. It was also reportedly written in honor of Princess Diana, which is neither here nor there.

I don’t much care for it, and that’s ok. The bridge is trying at best, echoing another sub-par work ‘Hey You’ (which is about as exciting as its title suggests). The rest is all gloom and doom, and we’ve had enough of that for the moment. Let’s fast-forward this – it’s one big meh…

Who will take her place?

It’s written on everyone’s face

The truth is slowly dawning

I hear tomorrow calling

Some things can’t be replaced

The realization of a new generation

On the eve of imitation

All gone, overthrown

May God bless you all.

SONG #135 – ‘Queen’

{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.}

HOLD ME CLOSER, FULL DISCLOSURE

LET IT OUT, LET ME IN

ON YOUR KNEES, CONFESS TO ME

EVERY DOUBT, EVERY SIN

THAT’S HOW LOVE’S SUPPOSED TO BE

Every work day begins with the same ritual: the walk from the car to the office building. Whether I’m being dropped off or parking on site, there is always The Walk. Throughout a decade and a half of state office work, I’ve had a number of variations on this theme, but The Walk has remained constant. From a parking lot where my Subaru would bake in the hot sun, to a comparatively luxurious covered-garage where the path to my desk was entirely shielded from the outside weather, The Walk was different for every location, but its essence was the same. These days I’m lucky enough to be driven to the side of my office building, where I make a brief but important fifty foot trek to the door. It’s short, but a lot happens in that small distance.

I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL ABOUT

YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU’RE BROKEN DOWN

LET YOUR WALLS CRUMBLE TO THE GROUND

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

EVERY SCAR THAT YOU TRY TO HIDE

ALL THE DARK CORNERS OF YOUR MIND

SHOW ME YOURS AND I’LL SHOW YOU MINE

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

It is here where I truly “dress” for the day. No matter what extravagance I’ve draped over my body, no matter which coat and bag I’ve chosen as armor, I’m not completely dressed until The Walk. You see, or you don’t see in this case, the most important thing a person can wear is not on the outside. It’s how you carry yourself. Do you believe enough in who you are to wear whatever you want? Or do you falter and waver, relying on a power suit or black dress to instill the confidence you lack? To me it depends on the day. Sometimes I am that strong, sometimes I’m not. No matter which it might be, I take a moment on The Walk to prepare myself for whatever may come. In the darkness of a winter morning or the bright emboldening sun of the summer, in the balmy humidity of August or the dry chill of February, I make The Walk, and try to decipher a little bit more of who we dare to be, and why.

LET’S DISCOVER ONE ANOTHER

KISS ME HERE, TOUCH ME THERE,

PUREST FORM OF ECSTASY

TRUTH OR DARE, DON’T BE SCARED

LET ME SOLVE YOUR MYSTERY

I summon the spirits of Miranda Priestley, Norma Desmond, and Margo Channing. I conjure the regal bearing of the kings and queens that history has worshipped and deified. I become imperious, haughty, untouchable and divine. With each step I inhale the brisk, blunt, bold persona I so desperately want to embody, and I build myself up to mythic stature through sheer force of will. If I believe it, they might believe it too. By the time I enter the building, I am, in my own mind and countenance, a formidable force. If only a fraction of that comes through, I might be all right. I might make it through the day.

I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL ABOUT

YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU’RE BROKEN DOWN

LET YOUR WALLS CRUMBLE TO THE GROUND

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

EVERY SCAR THAT YOU TRY TO HIDE

ALL THE DARK CORNERS OF YOUR MIND

SHOW ME YOURS AND I’LL SHOW YOU MINE

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

On most work days I take my lunch alone. I prefer it that way. In my line of work I have to deal with people all day – phone calls, meetings, discussions (even going to the bathroom can be a social booby trap) – so when I get a break I revel in whatever moments of solitude I can find. Yet even on my own, I’m keenly aware of how people react to me. I notice every furtive stare, every stolen glance, and I’m extremely, though inwardly, self-conscious about it. It’s a vicious little cycle – in paying attention to others, I’m deflected into paying attention to myself, which, contrary to all apparent evidence and popular belief, is not how I prefer to spend my time.

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

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

Last week, for some unknown reason, I didn’t notice the people noticing me. A few surely were, I did catch one or two, mostly because I had a ridiculously over-the-top coat on. But then I looked down at the sidewalk, and then up at the buildings and storefronts, and when I stopped noticing them noticing me, I was overcome with a wild sense of relief, and a wonderful feeling of freedom. “When one’s mind is on one’s own business…”

Maybe it’s a sign of growing up. Maybe it’s a sign of authentic confidence. Maybe it’s a sign of genuinely not giving a shit what others think. When you play at something long enough, it tends to come true.

I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL ABOUT

YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU’RE BROKEN DOWN

LET YOUR WALLS CRUMBLE TO THE GROUND

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

What does this have to do with a Madonna song? I’m not entirely sure. Madonna has always been about self-reflection/self-obsession, and a song like ‘Inside Out’ can be read as a simple ode of love to another, or as a way of getting to know your own self better. It’s one of the more majestic cuts from the ‘Rebel Heart’ opus, a beautiful power ballad with a meandering bass line and magnificent bridge. Pop perfection in a world that has lost touch with melody and song structure. At a more risky and romantic time, I would have given myself to this song, and to whomever held my interest at the time. I’m older now, and yearnings have quieted into something resembling sense.

EVERY SCAR THAT YOU TRY TO HIDE

ALL THE DARK CORNERS OF YOUR MIND

SHOW ME YOURS AND I’LL SHOW YOU MINE

LET ME LOVE YOU FROM THE INSIDE OUT

I still make The Walk every morning I go to work, but some days I forget myself, not bothering to build up the image that I expect others have of me. I forget to channel Madonna and Miranda and Margo, and I walk in without artifice or attitude, content to study the air, seeking a hint of spring, searching for something bigger than myself.

SONG #134: ‘Inside Out’

{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 wasn’t starvation, it was simple hunger. The difference between a burnt bagel and a family torn apart and killed in the Holocaust. I do not lay claim to any sort of real suffering, not yet. But each of us has our own trials and tribulations, our own demons to be slain or worshipped. The longer we last, the more the world can wound us. The question is not who has suffered the most, but what we do with our pain if we are lucky enough to simply survive.

I WANT THE GOOD LIFE, BUT I DON’T WANT AN EASY RIDE

WHAT I WANT IS TO WORK FOR IT

FEEL THE BLOOD AND SWEAT ON MY FINGERTIPS

THAT’S WHAT I WANT FOR ME.

The rickety huts stood on stilts in the ocean off the coast of Manila. A glimpse of them seered itself into my memory bank as I visited the Philippines in 1997. We drove past the long rows of jumbled tin shacks, not much more than scrap pieces of metal propped up against each other, and groups of kids running and waving and smiling in the sun. Those smiles are what haunted me.

I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING, MAYBE SOME DAY I WILL

WHAT I WANT IS TO FIND MY PLACE

BREATHE THE AIR AND FEEL THE SUN ON MY CHILDREN’S FACE,

THAT’S WHAT I WANT.

The Westin Hotel in Manila is rich with dark wood. A pool extends behind it, and guards with conspicuous ear-pieces and sunglasses stand sentinel, lending a bit of tension to the most relaxing of moments. We take the elevator to our floor, and enter a spacious room. After a few days in the province with only a bucket for a shower, this is bliss. Then I think of those children again.

I GO ROUND AND ROUND JUST LIKE A CIRCLE

I CAN SEE A CLEARER PICTURE

WHEN I TOUCH THE GROUND I COME FULL CIRCLE TO MY PLACE AND I AM HOME,

I AM HOME.

Walking to the little balcony, I am dismayed to see the door has been left open a crack. Warily I suspect there will be mosquito bites in the morning. I walk onto the ledge and peer out onto the courtyard in front of the hotel. Half a world away from any home I’ve ever known, with an Uncle who left me to my own devices and a family I’d never met before, I’ve already done away with any shiver of loneliness. We’ve come to the end of our trip – my first to my Dad’s homeland – and in such a short time I’ve already grown up a little. For all the cock-fighting, beer-drinking, karaoke-singing craziness of the Philippines, it is the image of those kids that stays with me. They looked so happy, but they lived in such squalor. I’d never seen poverty like that. I couldn’t get my head around it, and knowing it was my own background and privilege that prevented me from understanding better didn’t make it any easier.

I WANT TO LET GO OF ALL DISAPPOINTMENT THAT’S WAITING FOR ME

WHAT I WANT IS TO LIVE FOREVER, NOT DEFINED BY TIME AND SPACE

IT’S A LONELY PLACE,

THAT’S WHAT I WANT

They lived in the extremes of dust and mud. It was caked on their faces and feet. Their clothes were torn and ragged, and their hair was matted and weighted down with dirt and oil. Most played in their dangerous terrain without shoes, and the ones I did see were worn flip-flops on the verge of disintegration. Yet they smiled, and laughed, and waved – and it was the most genuine and heartbreaking sort of joy I’ve seen in my forty-plus years: the utter bliss of being a child and having nothing to do but play the day away. I wondered what sort of terror they witnessed when a typhoon swept everything into the ocean, or disease and death stole parts of their family away.

I GO ROUND AND ROUND JUST LIKE A CIRCLE

I CAN SEE A CLEARER PICTURE

WHEN I TOUCH THE GROUND I COME FULL CIRCLE TO MY PLACE AND I AM HOME,

I AM HOME.

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I wrote all of this for a Madonna song. Maybe because one man’s supposed torture would be an easy ride for any one of those children. My life has certainly been easy in comparison, and I gratefully own up to living an enchanted and charmed existence. That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen things. It doesn’t mean I’m unaware. It simply signifies that everyone’s ride is different. Sometimes it’s difficult, sometimes it’s easy. Rarely is it one set thing. For the lucky, life can be long. The chance to be loved, the chance to run about and play on a sunny day – these pockets of salvation in the midst of hell are what get us through the journey.

In the darkest and most shameful part of my soul, I wondered if my discomfort at seeing such happiness in such seeming poverty made my misery mean so much less. There are ugly sides to almost all of us.

I GO ROUND AND ROUND JUST LIKE A CIRCLE

I CAN SEE A CLEARER PICTURE

WHEN I TOUCH THE GROUND I COME FULL CIRCLE TO MY PLACE AND I AM HOME,

I AM HOME.

As for this particular song on the timeline, it begins and ends with a flourish of strings, fitting bookends of elegance to Madonna’s’American Life’ electronic pastoral. This one is a down-tempo orchestral beauty that magically completes one of her most controversial, and therefore under-rated, albums. It’s also turning out to be one of the most ahead-of-its-time albums given the current state of political affairs.

I GO ROUND AND ROUND JUST

ROUND AND ROUND JUST

Being invincible doesn’t mean you haven’t been battered. In my experience, the most invincible among us are usually the most battered. But somehow, they get up again, they go on, they become invincible because of the battering the world gives them.

SONG #133 – ‘Easy Ride’