Category Archives: Madonna

The Madonna Timeline: Song #76 ~ ‘I Fucked Up’ -Spring 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.}

I fucked up,
I made a mistake,
Nobody does it better than myself.
I’m sorry, I’m not afraid to say
I wish I could take it back,
But I can’t…

There’s no more difficult task in the world than learning to say you’re sorry and asking for forgiveness. It’s probably the thing I do worst in life, finding it incredibly uncomfortable to put aside my pride and admit when I’ve been wrong. Though it doesn’t happen often to the practically-perfect-in-every-way, when it does I can now bring myself to say I’m sorry. It’s still not easy, but it’s the mark of a mature adult.

I fucked up,
I made a mistake,
Nobody does it better than myself.
I’m sorry, I’m not afraid to say
I wish I could take it back,
But I can’t…

Perhaps the most blunt title of any Madonna song, ‘I Fucked Up’ was on the Deluxe Version of her most recent album, MDNA. As one of the newer ones, it hasn’t had time to sink in and make a hugely significant impact on my life, though I do think it’s one of her stronger cuts of late – both musically and mentally powerful. It starts off as a slightly sing-songy ballad, one that lyrically finds Madonna owning up to past mistakes. For someone who claims to have no regrets, ‘I Fucked Up’ may be the closest she’ll ever come to truly saying she’s sorry, and the hurt and pain of the ending of her marriage to Guy Ritchie surely played a pivotal part in the emotional display on hand here.

I’m so ashamed, You’re in so much pain,
I blamed you when things didn’t go my way,
If I didn’t, you’d be here,
If I didn’t fight back, I’d have no fear,
If I took another path, things would be so different,
But they’re not…
I could’ve just kept my big mouth closed,
I could’ve just done what I was told,
Maybe I should’ve turned silver into gold,
But in front of you I was cold.
I fucked up, I made a mistake,
Nobody does it better than myself,
I’m sorry, I’m not afraid to say,
I wish I could take it back,
But I can’t…
I thought we had it all,
You brought out the best in me,
And somehow I destroyed the perfect dream,
I thought we were indestructible,
I never imagined we could fall
You wanna know how to make God laugh: Tell him your plans.

As the music speeds up and the track takes off, the story becomes even more wistful and filled with regret and longing. It’s a story that most of us have had the misfortune to play a part in at some point in our lives – the ambivalent heartache of a relationship that didn’t work out, and the little memories and details and hopes of what might-have-been that run rampant across the mind in the loneliest nights.

We could’ve bought a house with a swimming pool,
Filled it up with Warhols, it would be so cool,
Could’ve gone riding stallions in the country side,
With a pack of great danes, racing eye to eye,
We could’ve toured the world in a private jet,
Gotten naked on the beach, all soaking wet,
We could’ve climbed the mountains,
Seen the perfect sunrise,
Written our names across the sky…

Song #76: ‘I Fucked Up’ ~ Spring 2012

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The Madonna Timeline: Song #75 – ‘Oh Father’ – Fall 1991

{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’s funny that way,
You can get used to the tears and the pain
What a child will believe
You never loved me…

A boy, who can’t be more than ten years old, is running around the house wearing five of his mother’s nightgowns, one on top of the other. Anything to lessen the sting, dull the impact. A silly child’s reasoning, whipped out of him soon enough – and a lesson that if you pretend enough that it hurts, it stops sooner. If you pretend the pain, it goes away. Sometimes, you don’t have to pretend. Sometimes the pain is only pretend because you no longer feel anything.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The years fly. I am no longer quite a boy, but nowhere near a man. I’m a petulant, trapped teenager, and we’re a dime a dozen, but I’m also different, and I don’t know why. On the mirror of my bathroom, I leave a note, scrawled in bold black marker, before I depart for the school day:

I WILL LEAVE THIS PLACE AND NEVER COME BACK.

It is my only way of survival. The thought of going away. The head game. It works. It gets me through the day. I return to find it there, still taped to the mirror. No one has seen it. I rip it down, and crumple it up. My body follows suit, crumpling to the floor, and I cry.

You can’t hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can’t make me cry,
You once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The day is dim. It must be November. The expanse of my parents’ backyard stretches out, running into a forest high with oak trees that have finally littered the ground with their brown mess. Piles of leaves dot the landscape, along with a scattering of filled bags like ghostly totems rising from the ground, but there is more to be done. I pause in my raking, surrounded by sudden silence in the descending darkness. I work alone. My brother is at some sports game or practice. I don’t play any sports. Looking up into the gray sky, I want to cry out. Under the burden of being a gay boy just coming of age, not knowing what the hell it was that I was feeling, what the hell might be wrong with me, I stand there in the darkening afternoon. The air feels like it might snow at any moment. My fingers grip the rake tighter. Anything to hold on.

What unnamed terrors lurked in the past to make me so weak? Maybe I was a sissy after all, maybe I was just a stupid faggot. When you’re a teenager, any of it might be true. All of it might be. You grasp whatever bits of flotsam float by in the most basic and desperate way of survival. You discard the rest, hoping you won’t need any of it later on in life. Who can foretell what kindness or cruelty will get you in the end, when all that matters is making it through the night?

Seems like yesterday
I lay down next to your boots and I prayed
For your anger to end
Oh Father I have sinned

Over the bathroom sink, my nose bleeds in torrents. Unstoppable blood flow, draining of strength, draining of worry, and some strange, sick comfort in the sight of all those bright red drops so vividly contrasting with the white ceramic sink. The taste metallic in my mouth, the liquid so ready to coalesce at the touch of air, yet not managing to clot on its own, on the inside, where I need it. I let it drip for a while, tired of trying to make it stop, leaning my cheek against the cold shiny veneer, and it runs down my face. I taste it again in the back of my mouth, gagging on the dissolving mess I have become. In the mirror, the watery, cracked vision of my face stares back, the eyes that will always look that haunted peer in on themselves.

You can’t hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can’t make me cry,
You once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.

It is strange the way we hurt each other, I think, the way that parents hurt their children, the way children hurt their parents, and how, if we’re extremely lucky, if we’re blessed enough to escape adolescence without serious harm or lifelong scars, we may find our way back to each other.

Oh Father
If you never wanted to live that way
If you never wanted to hurt me
Why am I running away?

There is so much pain in this world. How youth overcomes itself has always moved me. But in that time, at that moment, I couldn’t see that. The enormity of growing up is a burden that should never be placed on children. Such is childhood’s conundrum. It seems so unfair, and for a kid who never wanted to be a kid, doubly so.

Oh Father
If you never wanted to live that way
If you never wanted to hurt me
Why am I running away?

Some nights all you want is to be held and told that it’s going to be okay. That no matter how bad you’ve been, no matter what you’ve done, and no matter how little you might deserve it, that everyone will one day find their own happiness. Even if it never turns out to be true. But I didn’t have a voice to say all of that, or the ease of letting it out. I didn’t know how to put it into words, and boys didn’t say things like that anyway – especially if the boy is trying at any cost to hide who he might really be. From Father to Son we pass along the secret Code of Men. We don’t cry. We don’t talk about it. We don’t let anything bother us.

Maybe someday
When I look back I’ll be able to say
You didn’t mean to be cruel
Somebody hurt you too…

But there is secret sorrow then, hidden purging of tears in musty closets, in the woods behind the house, in the blanket-wrapped womb of night. Holding in that sort of angst, relentlessly pushing it back down inside, is a ruinous way to grow up. It eats you up. It hollows you out. It leaves you haunted.

You can’t hurt me now
I got away from you, I never thought I would
You can’t make me cry,
You once had the power
I never felt so good about myself.

I played this song over and over, daring my parents to listen, begging for someone to hear, to break through to me, to explain what was happening. I so desperately needed to be told that there was nothing wrong with me, but all I got – and all that I could give back – was silence. In the snowfall of that winter, when my best friend was halfway around the world, when I wasn’t speaking to my parents, a little bit of me died. I buried him beneath the frosty leaves, in the dark cold of the earth, where not even the worms or the centipedes of centuries past dared to burrow. Sometimes, in the spring, beneath the snowdrops and the bloodroot flowers, I look for him there.

I have not found him yet.

The Madonna Timeline #75: ‘Oh Father’ ~ Fall 1991
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Tomorrow She Returns…

A very special Madonna Timeline… Coming tomorrow morning.

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A Sneak Preview

On this Thursday morning, the Madonna Timeline returns in a major way. From her epic album ‘Like A Prayer’, one of her most powerful songs… A song about childhood, a song about growing up, a song about learning to forgive, to forget, to lose, and to let go… A song about what it’s like to be a parent, and what it’s like to be a child.

 

If you never wanted to live that way,

If you never wanted to hurt me,

Why am I running away?

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Summer Highlights (Summer of the Speedo)

It was a summer of the hawks.

It was a summer that started with something that shook me to the core – something from which I never did fully bounce back – and so it was shaded a little more dimly than usual, even if the sun was at its hottest and most consistently spectacular. That something was my service as a juror – and the life-altering tale of my jury duty.

It was the summer that was almost saved by a Madonna song.

It was the summer of the Speedo – as the Olympics reigned and took my mind off other things. Thank you Tom Daley, Michael Phelps, Matthew Mitcham, Ryan Lochte, Sam Mikulak, Danell Leyva, and the wonderfully naked Epke Zonderland. (And let’s not forget that Olympic boner.)

It was the summer I left the Romaine Brooks Gallery after four years as Gallery manager.

It was the summer Prince Harry got shirtless – and then went completely starkers in Las Vegas.

It was the summer of a birthday weekend that began in Boston and ended in Provincetown, a summer that was somehow rescued by my very first whale watch.

It was the summer that found the first – and most major – phase of our website update.

It was the summer that Madonna gang-banged her way around the world with her MDNA Tour – bringing to mind my first piece of Madonna from 1990.

It was a summer that set us up perfectly for Fall – as they all seem to do – a summer that ended with the reflection on nine years of summers on this website. The end of summer is not the end of the world. There are good things to come.

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Madonna’s Hottest Dancer?

This is Adrien Galo, a back-up dancer on Madonna’s current MDNA Tour. While I’ve always found Madonna’s taste in men – including back-up dancers and video love-interests – somewhat questionable (about one in five is what I’d consider hot), there’s usually one or two per tour that merit special mention, and a shirtless post like this. Mr. Galo is certainly one of them. (And don’t let it sway your opinion that he was once a back-up dancer for Britney Spears. We all had to start somewhere.)

There was a time when I could tell you the names and stats of every back-up dancer on a Madonna tour, but while I still love her, I have other things to do. (Much to the current chagrin of Suzie, who needs confirmation that her daughter’s teacher played a part in Madonna’s MDNA Tour… does anyone know?) However, I do remember the ones who have meant the most to me over the years – see if you remember these guys.

On the left is ‘Slam’ from the epic Blonde Ambition tour in 1990. I liked him so much I grew my hair out (and it looked nothing like that.) To the right is the Girlie Show’s Luca Tommassini from 1993 – he’s the one she shouts ‘Luca!’ at in the ‘Everybody’ finale – something I only just put together last week.

It wasn’t until 2001 that I actually got to attend one of her tours myself, and that amazing christening came in the form of the Drowned World Tour. One of the bright spots of that gorgeously dark show was Jull Weber, seen below, who managed to make even a mohawk look hot. He also featured in her ‘Don’t Tell Me’ video as a sexy cowboy. Yee-haw indeed.

The first, and thus far only, dancer I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person (on Boylston Street in the summer of the Confessions Tour) was Daniel ‘Cloud’ Campos. He was gracious and kind, offering to pose for a photo (which I’ll dig up another day) – as I imagine, and have heard, most are. It’s always nice to be noticed for the work you’re doing.

Cloud is on the left, and he was in her ‘Hung Up’ and ‘Sorry’ videos, as well as her Reinvention Tour in 2004. On the right is Paul Kirkland, who was also part of the Reinvention Tour, coming back a few years later for her 2008/2009 Sticky & Sweet Tour. I think all the dancers on the MDNA Tour are new – befitting a new Madonna era. I’ve always admired her self-proclaimed determination to hire the most spirited and charismatic characters for her show, even if they’re not the most technically proficient. These guys are proof of that.

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Madonna: The MDNA Tour Review

Even when it comes to Madonna, I’m somewhat hesitant to describe anything related to pop culture as a truly “spiritual experience”. Yet that is exactly the journey she takes us on for her current MDNA Tour. Watching from the sidelines of the TD Garden in Boston (and slightly behind the stage, thank you Ticketmaster), I felt the gradual upward trajectory of the show in a more fully realized manner than almost all of her previous tours. Say what you will about her singing or acting or on-and-off-again English accent, her power and command as a live performer have always been well-earned givens. The woman knows how to put on a show.

It opens hauntingly, with hooded monks in high-heels swinging an over-size incense holder while the Kalakan trio (whose soothing harmonies ground the show at integral points throughout the evening) intone an introductory chant. A convincing video backdrop of a Cathedral rises to the ceiling, a surprisingly effective use of technology that works wonders in filling the stage space with arresting visuals. To the bracing sound of shattered glass, a crowned and veiled Madonna takes aim at the audience with a rifle before blasting into ‘Girl Gone Wild’ with some slick and sick choreography. In some ways, it’s classic Madonna, cavorting in tight formation with shirtless dancers, as the briefest of references to ‘Material Girl’ and ‘Give It To Me’ give way again to the pounding beat of ‘Girl Gone Wild’. An ingenious set of platforms that rise and fall gives a powerful vertical element to the proceedings, (even if those of us behind the lights can still barely see).

The provocative gun-play of the set that has caused so much controversy thus far rears its head with ‘Revolver’ and ‘Gang Bang’, the former finding Madonna and her handkerchiefed band of girl friends brandishing fire-arms while her electronically-altered voice eerily rings out, “My love’s a revolver, my sex is a killer, Do you wanna die happy?” For ‘Gang Bang’ she hops atop a seedy hotel room scene, dispatching invading entrants with another gun and graphic splatters of blood on the video screens.

It’s an ultra-violent beginning that finds retribution in an all-too-brief snippet of ‘Papa Don’t Preach’, because when you go against patriarchal authority, the punishment is swift and inevitable – in this case, doled out by a set of frightening masked marauders who proceed to tie Madonna up and literally string her along a slack line, upon which she sings a disturbing version of ‘Hung Up’. She does a bit of perfunctory line-walking, barefooted and brazenly, because she gets her kicks when she’s walking the wire.

Closing out this gorgeously dark vignette is the defiant ‘I Don’t Give A’, in which Madonna boldly faces her audience head-on, a guitar strapped around her neck, and a middle-finger extended for all within sight. Nicki Minaj makes her first video-guest-appearance, decked out in religious garb, rapping and wrapping things up with the declarative, “There’s only one queen, and that’s Madonna.”

As the ominous chanting returns for its dramatic climax, Madonna rises slowly on a platform, as a cross glows crimson behind her. In a long career of successful visual-arrests, she captures yet another iconic image. The lights go dark for the briefest of moments (everyone knows Madonna shows just don’t stop) and the impact of this scene is stunningly powerful.

A rather dour interlude follows, with a mash-up of ‘Best Friend’ (an under-appreciated track from the deluxe edition of ‘MDNA’) and ‘Heartbeat’ (from 2008’s ‘Hard Candy’) to the accompaniment of graveyard scenes in moody black-and-white ~ a metaphorical death-knell for what came before, and a chance for Madonna to make the most drastic costume change of the evening, into a white and crimson majorette uniform. She marches up to center stage, leading a merry pep squad in front of cartoons of caricatured women subversively turned into images of power and humor. It’s a fun moment for fans old and new, echoing her triumphant Super Bowl performance and breathing new life into a classic song. She segues (ahem, seamlessly) into a quick snippet of Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ – not in an ungracious or unkind way at all, and even her final few lines of ‘She’s Not Me’ seem more tongue-in-cheek than antagonistic, a throwback to the cheeky minx who once wanted to ‘rule the world.’

A marching band descends from the rafters – no, really – for her latest Top Ten hit ‘Give Me All Your Luvin” and it’s a truly transformative version of the song, given extra pep and vigor – invigorating and effervescent – especially when delivered with all the energy and bombastic dance moves she pulls out of her too-fit-to-be-fair ass. The pom-pom popping routine she throws down at the apex of the runway brings the crowd to its first crescendo, a welcome relief and release from the serious beginning. The infectious energy continues with current single ‘Turn Up the Radio’.

While I initially thought this would be one of the more elaborately staged songs, she goes the opposite way, in a straight-forward  rendition sung from center stage, with nothing but a black outfit and guitar, and somehow it works, the music and the song taking flight, and the audience riding the crest of another colossal pop wave. Suddenly, I’m transported to catching a snippet of ‘The Virgin Tour’ on television some 25-plus years ago. I can still remember that Saturday afternoon, sitting in the wood-paneled family room and watching this dynamo of a woman singing and dancing with joyous abandon. I did a little dancing around the room that day too, and at each of my darkest moments of the past quarter of a century, there’s always been Madonna, imploring me to simply ‘Turn Up the Radio’ and promising the brief escape of a pop song, the momentary salvation of music.

The Basque vocalists of the Kalakan Trio resurface for a wonderfully re-imagined ‘Open Your Heart’, the 80s gem getting a sparkling, almost acoustic make-over. It grows into a rollicking highlight, building up to a rousing percussion-driven chance for the dancers (and her son Rocco) to step up their high-kicks a few more impressive notches. There is healing here, especially after that deliciously brutal start – healing and joy – and this turning point is one of almost spiritual transcendence. She traditionally pauses here, the first time she gets personal and talks, and it’s always a crap-shoot on what she’s going to say – gay rights, Pussy Riot, imprisonment – but tonight she keeps it on the light, and Boston-specific side.

“You guys are crazy!” she begins. “I’ve been coming to Boston every time I’ve been on tour,” she continues, extolling the virtues of freedom of expression, saying it’s okay to be gay and okay to be whomever you want to be, and that she hopes it will stay that way – a none-too-veiled reference to the upcoming Presidential election. She may not watch television, but the woman knows her current events. “Are you going to let crazy shit happen in this country” she asks, demanding a “Fuck No” response that we are all crazy enough to give her. “Are you going to let crazy shit happen in this country??!” Fuck No! “Except me!” she says with a devilish grin. A beautiful rendering of her Golden Globe-winning ballad ‘Masterpiece’ follows – and then a sexier, darker, cheekier, hotter-than-the-original version of ‘Justify My Love’ plays as a video interlude.

Photo by Kevin Mazur.

It’s a stylish intro for the Madonna of the now-almost-retro 90s, and no song opened that decade with a bigger bang than ‘Vogue’. It struts its stuff here in all its fashion-forward elegantly black and white glory, with Madonna updating her Gaultier bustier with a stiff leather cage-like structure, at once androgynous and fiercely feminine. A more-delicious-than-expected adult take on ‘Candy Shop’, featuring a few all-too-brief quotes from ‘Erotica’, continues the divine decadence, proof that Madonna’s live performance can lift her most mundane and melody-lacking songs, such as ‘Human Nature’. I understand that this is one of her ultimate non-victim fuck-off songs, but she does it much better when there’s a driving beat and actual melody (as in ‘Express Yourself’). 

One of the most hotly-debated performance pieces is her new take on ‘Like A Virgin’. Having done everything from lampooning it Cyndi Lauper style, masturbating on a red velvet bed, Dietriching it out in top hat and tails, and riding a virtual horse, there’s not much more to be done for the song, but Madonna strips it down literally and figuratively, turning it into a plaintive piano waltz, and crumbling to the floor before enacting a dramatic tightening of a corset around her waist. This may be what’s polarizing audiences for the MDNA Tour. Madonna is not interested in looking back and chirping the same songs in the same way, and her artistic integrity, and own personal truth, are such that she never could.

Those who hate this anything-but-shiny-and-new version are those who haven’t taken the time to delve into the deeper, complex glories of the MDNA album. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting to hear your favorite Madonna classic performed in the style to which you’ve grown accustomed, there is little challenge in that for an artist like Madonna. ‘Like A Virgin’ is, at its heart, a wistful longing to be made whole again, to retrieve that innocence and freshness that time and life inevitably ebbs away, and, in this seering version, the realization that sometimes you simply cannot go back.

After this spell of darkness, and an equally moving/disturbing video montage for ‘Nobody Knows Me’, the power of the beat – and the dance music that brought so many of us to her in the first place – is a welcome rejoinder in ‘I’m Addicted’ , one of the top cuts off MDNA. Her Joan-of-Arc metallic costume of armor glistens in its Swarovski-crystal-studded magnificence, and her braided warrior-hairstyle is a brilliant match for the throbbing song.

Love has always been Madonna’s drug of choice, and as the lights swirl about the audience and the inevitable dance break explodes, love is not only a drug, but a battlefield as well – one that remains a dizzying fix for a woman who still seems to have a lot of fight left in her.

Hardcore Madonna fans like myself will love this tour because it’s so MDNA heavy (and that album is easily her best since 2005’s ‘Confessions on a Dance Floor’). Nothing exemplifies that more than the gleeful romp of ‘I’m A Sinner’, given an Indian slant as it morphs impossibly, yet perfectly, into a B-side (‘Cyberraga’) from the ‘Music’ sessions. That song was previously in the bottom-five of those I ever wanted to see done live, but here it works brilliantly with the backing of the Kalakan trio. Coupled with some breathtaking video backdrops, this is where the journey nears its completion, and we have indeed reached a new plane.

I can’t help but smile as Madonna shakes a tambourine along to the Kalakan Trio, and we ride that happiness into an absolutely magical moment of transport that soars with one of the greatest pop songs ever written.

“Life is a mystery, Everyone must stand alone,” she intones, yet we are all standing together. Giving a traditional and true reading of ‘Like A Prayer’, Madonna stages one of the grandest sing-a-longs of the night, touching us as if it was the very first time, made more powerfully poignant as it comes imbued with all of the ensuing years of hard-won wisdom. It brings together new and old fans alike, the entire arena standing and singing and basking in the joy of the moment. 

The night ends with ‘Celebration’, a cut from her 2009 Greatest Hits collection of the same name (for those keeping track, that would be her third Greatest Hits compilation). With its musical echoes of opener ‘Girl Gone Wild’, it brings us full-circle, and it certainly does feel as if a journey has been completed – an ever-engaging, always challenging, entertaining-as-hell journey – and no other pop star has ever commanded a stage in such scintillating fashion.

There are those with greater musical talent, those with sharper dance skills, and those with more current relevance, but there is only one Madonna – and there always will be.

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Make Me Squeal

At about this time (okay, probably two hours after this time) Madonna will be taking to the stage in Boston for her MDNA Tour, and I will be shrieking in my high-pitched teenage-girl squeal that I adopt when these sorts of events come up. Andy will be looking at me and laughing. And then we will both be watching the Queen put on the Greatest Show on Earth.

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L-I-V-E Madonna!

Today’s the day! Madonna comes to Boston ~ my favorite performer in my favorite city. Bow down bitches.

If you’ve ever wanted to hear me scream like a girl, come within 50 feet of North Station tonight.

 

 

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Touched for the Very First Time

You always remember your first time. In my case, it was about eleven years ago, at what was then called the FleetCenter in Boston. Yes, the old Boston Garden is where I popped my Madonna Concert cherry, right next to Suzie, who was squealing along with me in high-pitched shrieks and girlish giggles. It was the Drowned World Tour in the summer of 2001, and as the lights went down and she rose into view, singing my favorite Madonna song of all-time, I froze, and my eyes welled up just a little bit. After idolizing and adoring this woman all of my life – literally from the age of ten (‘Material Girl’ was one of the first songs I was cognizant of remembering) – she now stood before me, alive and in the flesh, and I thought of all that had brought us both to that moment.

It remains, mostly for sentimental reasons, my favorite Madonna tour. It was heavy on songs from her best album to date, ‘Ray of Light’, and it was my very first time seeing her, so the whole evening had a magic to it that has yet to be topped. I would have more fun at other tours (Confessions), but Drowned World would be the standard to which all of them would slightly fail to measure up. She even sang ‘You’ll See’ that night – one of my top ten Madonna songs – in place of the usual (and lackluster) ‘Gone’ – marking the second moment I almost lost it.

The thought of this lady, then a newly-married mother of two, standing alone on that stage, commanding the love and adoration of millions, yet still feeling her way through heartbreak and abandonment – it moved me in the way that she so often does, in the way that no one quite seems to fully understand, and in a way I’ll keep close to my heart because it doesn’t deserve to be so publicly analyzed.

Tonight marks the 8th time I’m seeing her live in concert, and I’m certain I’ll feel the same thrill, as I’ve felt the same anticipation for the previous weeks. From the clips I’ve seen of the show, it’s going to be killer…

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I Did A Little Dance

This is how I felt upon seeing The Writing page installed this morning. Oh, and this too.

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It’s Always Been About the Words

Behold the latest stroke of genius by Webmaster Skip in the form of The Writing portal, now seen in the navigation bar of this website. More than photography and Projects, fashion and accessories, it’s always come down to the writing for me. Words will continue to be the most important tools we have for connecting to each other, and in the end that’s the whole point of the internet, at least this little part of it.

Please take a look at The Writing page and check out the fabulous layout Skip has set up. You’ll note that currently we are a bit Madonna-heavy on the content, in celebration of her MDNA Tour (and I cannot wait to add that review to the pantheon). We’ve also edited down the number of articles, so as not to overwhelm or utilize mediocre filler. What remains are a select few of my favorites.

“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.” Markus Zusak

“Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?” Oscar Wilde

 

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Back to Boston

Not that I’ve ever needed a reason to return to Boston (again and again), but when Madonna’s in town, well, it’s a given that I’ll be in town. Though I’ve passed the fanatical devotion that allowed me to recognize Cloud and Tamara on Boylston Street when the Confessions Tour rolled around in the summer of 2006, I still get a major thrill from seeing my favorite performer live. (Sad to say I wouldn’t know one of her dancers if I met them on the street this time around… and if anyone knows anything about the elusive Mr. Hobby, please let Suzie know… her daughter claims he was a teacher at her school or something, and I guess we’re trying to determine who was lying.) At any rate, we’ll be back in Boston today, and just in the nick of time – I’ve been craving a Zuni Roll from the Parish Cafe.

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Madonna & A Monday Massage

Tomorrow Andy and I return to Boston, for the return of Madonna and her MDNA Tour. Needless to say, I am very excited, but I’m also slightly deflated as our seats appear to be behind the stage… or with a very limited side view. No matter, we’ve seen her before, and I’ll see her again in NYC, so we’ll just dance and sing to the music.

Before that, however, a bit of Labor Day relaxation in the form of another massage. It is said that true peace and contentment can only be found within, and there is surely something to the practices and benefits of yoga and meditation and simple exercise – but I’m after a quicker, lazy-man’s version of this – the kind of inner peace and tranquility that can only be found in a massage, where the work is all done at the hands of someone else. To that lovely end, I’ve scheduled a session at ‘etant: A Spa for Well Being‘ in the South End. It’s just a few blocks away from our place, and the perfect entry back into Boston. I’m not sure how it will compare to the heights of ecstasy found at the Mandarin Oriental, but any massage is better than no massage.

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