All of these informed the days of Madonna’s ‘Like A Prayer’ album, and in that incense and patchouli-scented period of time, a classic pop moment was born. At the age of thirteen I was just awakening to the world around me, and my place in it. Such a heady time needed a dramatic soundtrack, and ‘Like A Prayer’ was it.
Through the ensuing years, the album has matured and endured, growing more resonant with the passing of time, ageless with its themes of family, love, empowerment, spirituality, and self-discovery. With Patrick Leonard and Stephen Bray, Madonna crafted one of the finest pop albums of the 1980’s, topping off the decade that she ruled and setting up the pinnacle of her pop culture reign. ‘Like A Prayer’ was the first time the world began to understand her legacy and place in musical history.
Sometimes, though, that albatross of the past, and all the controversies that would come, weighed heavily on the heart and mind. It’s been over three decades since ‘Like A Prayer’ was released, and trying to encapsulate an understanding or summary of such a stretch is a daunting endeavor. Sometimes I just want to put on the music and let it take me there…
When confronted with the quest to find a defining song for this website, I turned to the children in my life – their answers will be forthcoming in the next few months, but it seemed unfair to task them with such a daunting challenge when they’ve only known me for the short duration of their lives thus far. How dare I ask someone else when I haven’t narrowed it down myself? And so let’s begin a little collection of songs that I would put on a mix tape if I’d met you when we were both teenagers in love. Up first, ‘Grace Kelly’. Ca-ching!
Do I attract you? Do I repulse you with my queasy smile? Am I too dirty, am I too flirty? Do I like what you like? I could be wholesome, I could be loathsome, I guess I’m a little bit shy Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me, without making me try?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly But all her looks were too sad, So I tried a little Freddie, I’ve gone identity mad!
After knocking about this planet for forty-seven-and-counting years, I’ve got bruises and black-and-blue memories and tales of thrashing my brain and body against all sorts of odds and ends. At this point, perhaps a turning point, or a midway point, or a point of contention, I’m more willing to be unwilling to change for anyone or anything. The grace of Ms. Kelly and the brazen boldness of Mr. Freddie were never for me, despite my early Norma-mantra of ‘I can play any role!’ Wishful thinking, powerful enough for the younger years when one could coast on a wish and a prayer and the sheer will to make it so. One person’s confidence is another’s delusion.
I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me? Why don’t you walk out the door?
And so for many years – too many years – I tried to be everything I thought everybody else wanted. After several failed attempts at romance, and being too needy and quick to rush into a relationship, I learned all too slowly and painfully that people didn’t want that, and so I became someone who didn’t want or need anyone. Hardening off the heart and numbing the brain, I deadened my exuberant thrill and giddy excitement at meeting someone who fascinated me. Those were the rules, and to try to play outside of them simply didn’t work for me. Once I played that silly game, I could get the guy. Even if I couldn’t keep him. It was maddening.
Getting angry doesn’t solve anything…
So I became smarter. And harder. And cared even less. And I got a few more guys, and some stayed longer than others. And still I knew it wasn’t me. I couldn’t tell you what was me – I couldn’t even tell myself that then. I simply didn’t know, even if I was sure I did, and the blind-faith of youth was more blind than faithful. Left with gaping holes I covered with velvet and chiffon, in the manner of Grace Kelly herself, I hung the rusty sharpness of all my crooked nails and wonky screws with fancy duds and witty theatrics. Hiding in all the fantasy of black and white dramas, thinking I could outsmart the world and trap any bachelor with a penchant for other bachelors – I put myself above all others as a gambit, knowing full well there was nothing behind it. When there is nothing behind your image, you can be anything and everything – and it still amounts to nothing.
How can I help it, how can I help it? How can I help what you think? Hello my baby, hello my baby, putting my life on my brink Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me? Why don’t you like yourself? Should I bend over, should I look older, just to be put on your shelf?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly, But all her looks were too sad, So I tried a little Freddie, I’ve gone identity mad!
The first whispers of humility, of acknowledging my failures and imperfections, sounded in the distance, but I didn’t heed them. Certain that I could be what everyone else wanted, if they would simply tell me what they wanted, I made a vow to mold myself into someone desirable. Shedding styles and modes from season to season, every new person was a chance to become someone new myself, and every time I gave something up, I moved further from who I was.
I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me? Walk out the door!
Let’s have an orchestral moment – for pomp and circumstance and the bombast of youth. We are so sure of ourselves for such a very short time. Only the very foolish keep their delusions. The very foolish… and maybe the very happy.
Say what you want to satisfy yourself, hey But you only want what everybody else says you should want You want
A moment of mourning, then, for that foolishness. For that innocence. For that young man who knocked himself about like we all do in our early twenties. Because once I knew a little more about life, and loss, I wanted to be a little better. Slowly, the awakening began, and every day I felt a little more awake, a little more like myself. Understanding that, and seeing for maybe the first time that every day would not bring more knowledge, but more questions, began informing the way I lived. It wasn’t the answers I needed to find, it was the acceptance of all that I couldn’t and wouldn’t come to know.
There would be days when I would get ahead of myself, when the hubris of history and all the beautiful barriers I’d erected for decades would get the better of my decent intentions and send me hurtling back to a place of cruelty and fear and smallness. And then there would be days when I made all the right decisions, when the world smiled back if I ventured to smile first, when I met someone magical like Andy who taught me things and allowed me to teach him things too.
I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me? Walk out the door!
Is there such a thing as a happy ending? I don’t know. The older I get, the more we seem to lose. Beauty. Youth. Health. People we love. The closer we approach our own ending, the less happy life seems to get. I think it may have to be enough to find a tiny bit of happiness for which to be grateful at the end of every day – whether that’s in a stubborn patch of snow that finally melted, a violet that throws off an unexpected bloom, or a cookie that a co-worker brings you. If we find our happiness in the simple and grand glory of living out an average day, then that may be our happy ending.
Well… this was not what I intended to write when I chose this song, but some songs guide you differently as you write things out. This was going to be as colorful and brash as the explosion behind me in the accompanying pictures. It was meant to echo the driving defiance of ‘Grace Kelly’ and Mika’s impassioned delivery. Instead it stands in stark contrast to that, a monument to my failures and mistakes, an ode to imperfection and everything wrong, and a reminder to embrace it, make it better, and then let it go.
I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like Gotta be green, gotta be mean, gotta be everything more Why don’t you like me, why don’t you like me? Walk out the door!
There were works that came before and after which came close to perfection – ‘Confessions on a Dancefloor‘, ‘Erotica‘, and ‘Like A Prayer‘ are all solid entries in the Madonna canon – but ROL was a masterpiece form start to finish. Even her best albums have at least one clunker, while ROL has none. And so we hit play on the wondrously-whirling title track, which exuberantly reminds of all those moments when we feel like we just got home:
The ‘Ray of Light’ album taught me many things, and continues to do so. First and foremost was the idea of being present and living in the moment. For far too much of my life I’ve focused on planning and plotting and what was going to happen next. That makes for a well-organized existence, but zaps a lot of spontaneous enjoyment and fun out of each day, even if it was designed and planned to be enjoyable and fun. Some things in life cannot be planned, and if you’re a Virgo that’s always a little disappointing. Learning to appreciate the present moment was a key stepping stone on my road to becoming a little happier. The totality of the ROL album helped me to see that.
Twenty-five years have passed since this Madonna moment played out, and the work has stood the test of time. Its themes are universal and its lessons are continuously resonant. For all of its racing tracks, there is a Zen-like calm to its trajectory that makes ‘Ray of Light’ more like a musical meditation than a mere collection of songs. That journey is a trip worth making again and again.
At the heart of every artist is the drive and desire to create and to connect. Different artists do it in different media, and those who cross the boundaries to understand how different types of art bleed into each other have a wisdom that leads to work that can be richly resonant. Karel Barnoski’s latest effort, ‘Surrounded By Light’ is a prime example of an artist who focuses on a single instrument – in this case the piano – which somehow becomes a vessel for mapping out a tapestry of emotion.
Beginning with the bright, hopeful ‘Rise’, a little preamble to the proceedings, ‘Surrounded By Light’ locates Barnoski where he feels most alive: painting with the piano, coloring with the chords, and shading with the surety of his nimble fingers across the keys. The title track eases things into contemplative motion, slowing and distilling the proceedings to a wistful, almost bluesy territory – the place where music transforms into feelings, becoming more than the sum of the sound, and landing in a glorious mix of emotions – that precise moment before an abstract painting becomes a mess, stopping just short of that at the place of brilliance. Barnoski clips his songs at just the right ripe moment – a sign of maturity and genius in an all-too-often overwrought and overextended world.
Knowing when to pause and invoke silence is the unappreciated secret to so much of music, evidenced by ‘Grace’, where the space in-between the notes holds the exquisite tension and anticipation of promised release and elegant resolution. Another secret to great music is allowing the listener to make their own journey, leaving enough room in the songs and their titles to allow multiple readings to shade every experience differently. ‘Message’ might be a missive, a rumination, or a warning; ‘Drift’ could be a trip, a wave, a wind, or a loss.
Barnoski’s music evokes colors and light, shadows and shimmer, drawing a soundscape with strokes of sound that lift and bounce along as they do in ‘Held’ or undulate wildly and wonderfully as in ‘Sway’, each finding a way to sonically craft a world rich in texture and possibility.
When an artist so deftly creates music that merges and demands the conjuring of mental images, it creates a connection with the listener that pierces the heart in a way that a stand-alone image or song, taken on their own, can never quite achieve. ‘Surrounded By Light’ is that sort of music – it asks nothing from us other than to be heard – it is the plea and unanswered prayer of the artist – and the beauty of that, in the generosity of spirit and shared experience, is what touches me most here. It defies explanation and description – it can only be felt, as in the magical waves of ‘Mystic’ and the closing contemplative elegy of ‘Complete’.
I used to think that artists felt things differently from other people, that they somehow had access to deeper parts of the soul that the rest of us could never understand. As I listen to a song like ‘Self’ I’m no longer so certain we can separate and categorize people in such broad strokes – what I do know is that there are some works of art that speak to people in a universal way; they touch and tug at the heart because they evoke something primal at the core of being human.
Sometimes a single performance is enough to garner a Dazzler of the Day crowning. Such was the case when I happened upon the Madonna medley below performed by the divine Micah McLaurin. That alone was enough to seal the deal – when one looks deeper into McLaurin’s talents and accomplishments, it is clear that Dazzler is just the tip of the iconic iceberg. With soaring work in composing, performing, and fashion, McLaurin is a multi-layered artist whose entire being is a force of gorgeous, breathtaking inspiration. Check out Micah’s YouTube channel here for more amazing performances and prepare to be blown away; his website is also full of enchantment – find that here.
Mexican-American artist Omar Apollo is a singer, songwriter, and producer haling from Indiana. Since 2017, he’s been releasing his music to rapturous response from fans around the world. He’s currently on tour (and it hits Boston’s TD Garden on February 28) so check out his website here for upcoming dates. He garners his first Dazzler of the Day for making music that’s right for just about any vibe.
I’m in the sky where I oughta be at, I’ve been watching you
Rocket ship takin’ off in that, now I’m onto you
Mouth closed, I don’t want your opinion, who you talkin’ to?
Stand out, no, I don’t wanna blend in, why you want me to?
Only with hindsight can we see how quaintly the world turned in the months before a deadly worldwide pandemic hit. That summer of 2019 in many ways feels like a last summer of innocence and carefree joy, which is strange, because at the time I don’t think that’s what most of us felt. Most of my tension and worry is bound in dwelling and ruminating about that which may or may not happen, and that depletes a lot of joy in what might otherwise be a wonderful time. Again, it’s something that only hindsight can truly teach, and since then I’ve been working on inhabiting the moment, and concerning myself only with what I can directly and currently control. The rest is not worth worrying about, for the most part, and that’s what this song has come to mean to me now.
They say be all I can be
And all I want is peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace
See the world, haven’t seen it all
I wanna see its, see its, see its, see its, see its dreams
That said, it’s nice to revisit a pre-pandemic world, and I’m all for a trip down the section of memory lane that correlates with a summer season. Back in 2019, we were sitting on the patio by the pool and listening to ‘Madame X’ – a Madonna album that heralded the arrival of summer, not unlike the magical moment when ‘True Blue’ embodied its own summer a number of decades ago. Madonna and summer have a way of going together that just feels right – and pop songs somehow hit more intensely in the sunny season. ‘Come Alive’ should have been one of those summer hits – alas, Madonna was way ahead of the game, and more concerned with edgier fare like ‘Dark Ballet‘ and ‘God Control‘ than this piece of pop music perfection. She seemed to sense something in the air.
Come alive, come alive
Come alive, come alive
Dream’s real, it’s alive
Come alive, come on
This song is all hope and exuberance and possibility – the very marks of what summer usually embodies, in its sun, its wonder, and its way of waking up the world to its own brilliance. Yet there is more at work here, in the drive and defiance that is a mark of all that Madonna herself has come to embody. A steely strength and determination pervades the message of ‘Come Alive’, a throwback to Madonna’s perennial message to ‘Express Yourself’ and a reminder that forty years into her historical career, Madonna still has to fight.
I can’t react how you thought I’d react, I would never for you
Front line, I won’t stand in the back, ’cause you want me to
Mouth closed, I don’t want your opinion, who you talkin’ to?
Stand out, no, I don’t wanna blend in, why you want me to?
Summer is tumultuous that way – from the calmest and clearest of sunny days, storms and darkness can appear and suddenly descend on our happiest moments. In the continuing aftermath of COVID, summers feel less jubilant than they once did, as so much else does, but there is still a way to find that joy, even if it revisiting a summer that came before. Memories can bring happiness into the present moment.
They say be all I can be
And all I want is peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace
See the world, haven’t seen it all
I wanna see its, see its, see its, see its, see its dreams
And so I return in my mind to that 2019 summer, when ‘Come Alive’ and ‘Crave‘ and ‘Crazy’ formed the only Vitamin C we needed. The world felt more carefree and innocent then, and perhaps it was – but it had its own issues, and were we to return to a more innocent time, we would also be returning to a more ignorant time. With knowledge comes heartbreak and hope, and a little thrill at still being alive.
Come alive, come alive
Come alive, come alive
Dream’s real, it’s alive
Come alive, come on
Come alive, come alive
Come alive, come alive
Come alive, come alive…
The night was dark and breezy, but not too unbearably frigid considering it was only the third day of March. A midnight album release was something for which only one woman could convince me to postpone my bedtime, and there was something special in the air that compelled me forward. Before the instantaneous nature of the internet took off, entertainment news was still being whispered mostly on television and in print, and I got most of my info from the bible of ‘Entertainment Weekly’ or the purple section of USA Today. Still, word had trickled through about Madonna’s ‘Ray of Light’ album, and on its opening release day (night) in America, I stood in a line snaking around the Tower Records that once stood on Newbury Street in Boston.
Her voice was booming thunderously on the sound system, and as we slowly advanced around the perimeter of the store, the title track came on and I understood that we were experiencing one of the greatest Madonna moments of all time. ‘Ray of Light’ turns 25 this year, and it still stands as her best album to date. While it’s incredibly risky to put a cap and definitive label on anything Madonna-related (she remains a transfixing and newsworthy woman, about to embark on her much-anticipated ‘Celebration Tour’ honoring four decades of music) it looks likely that ‘Ray of Light’ will remain her best album for a while. Its string of singles alone is legendary.
Lead track ‘Frozen’ had taken the world by mystical storm earlier that winter, an electronic ballad that heralded Madonna’s return to the pop throne she had helped craft in the 80’s, while pushing forward the boundaries of what pop music was, and what it might encompass. ‘Frozen’ was unlike anything Madonna had ever sung before, even if heartache and hope were mainstays of all her best music.
Title track ‘Ray of Light’ could barely be held back as it raced out as the second single. Pounding through the summer of 1998, it sounded a clarion call for pop glory throughout the world and is still one of Madonna’s most beloved bops. That primal squeal of joy at its conclusion is pure heaven.
The final official single in the United States was ‘Nothing Really Matters‘, a song that initially paled in comparison to the rest of the album, but has since advanced in my appreciation. At the time, it felt like a throwback to the earlier Madonna, a little light on message and meaning compared to something like the stunning album closer ‘Mer Girl’ but I’ve come to enjoy its pop magic in the ensuing years. Besides, Madonna is as much about celebration as she is about rumination – probably a bit more-so than the ‘Ray of Light’ album might lead one to believe.
While the album is celebrating its 25th anniversary, it’s worth noting that ‘Ray of Light’ came out about fifteen years after Madonna’s debut. That’s the mark of an artist who is far more than the one-hit… well, now fifty-hit, wonder that many wrote her off to be all those years ago. It’s the mark of an artist in constant evolution, one who is unafraid to try new things and move forward to discover new visions. Most of all, it’s the mark of an artist who has defied the notions of what pop music can be, and what our pop stars can accomplish, and ‘Ray of Light’ remains her most potent and enduring testament to that power.
My favorite moment of the Grammys this year (yes, even more favorite than Madonna introducing Sam Smith and Kim Petras, which was epic enough) was Brandi Carlile’s wife and daughters introducing her performance. Carlile is no stranger to the Grammys, having added to her staggering total of wins again this year, and she is no stranger to many of my social media friends, as evidenced by the outpouring of love that happens whenever I see someone post something on her. She earns this Dazzler of the Day honor for a career of determined focus and singular talent, and for being brave and fabulous when it’s not always easy to be either.
This feels like a fitting song to kick off February – the shortest month of the year, and the last full month of winter – as we play games dodging time in the season of slumber. Supposedly it was inspired by a party that Madonna and Guy Oseary threw, attended by Lana Del Rey. Friends have been telling me for years that I would/should love Lana due to her dramatic way around a melody, and I’m finally coming around to it. This one is especially gorgeous.
We keep changing all the time The best ones lost their minds So I’m not gonna change I’ll stay the same No rose left on the vines Don’t even want what’s mine Much less the fame It’s dark but just a game It’s dark but just a game…
In the thick of winter, this is the time when some of us lose our minds. I remember visiting JoAnn in Cape Cod a number of years ago, and her brother Wally regaled what they did to make it through the winter – and for all of the trickery and mind-games that we could conjure and use to make it through the doldrums, the bottom line was that it sucked. Sometimes the only way through was to get a few friends, get a little drunk, and do a few doughnuts in an empty parking lot as a winter storm barreled down on the base of that summer-getaway peninsula.
Twenty-two years into a relationship with someone, it’s sometimes difficult to find those moments of romance and intimacy, but every once in a while a romantic night surprises and unexpectedly delights with the simple gratitude of sitting next to your husband at dinner and a show.
In the same way that I got him to sit through ‘The House of Mirth’ and any film with subtitles (hello ‘Crouching Dragon, Hidden Dragon’), I intentionally neglected to mention it was a Taylor Swift concert, he just thought it was a classical show. There is a photo I snapped when he realized what was happening, but that’s just for me. Happily, he said he enjoyed it, and we both loved visiting the revamped Kenmore Ballroom for the first time.
It was during ‘Blank Space’ that I suddenly had that lovely feeling of gratitude and appreciation for Andy wash over me, the same way it has happened sporadically over the years, most memorably in this dinner overlooking all of Boston as we planned our wedding.
The next day, I was sitting in Starbucks with a pistachio latte (my latest unhealthy obsession) and this version of ‘Blank Space’ came over the speakers, which was the universe’s way of cementing this romantic moment in my happy memory firmament.
But I’ve got a blank space, baby And I’ll write your name…
Non-binary pop superstar Sam Smith (recently of the #1 smash ‘Unholy’) has been a lightning rod for pop culture notoriety, with talk disparaging their looks, gender, weight, and all sorts of things other than their music. All of that is distracting nonsense which says much more about the people talking than it does about Smith, who has been riding high over all of it, gleefully and rightfully flaunting their beautiful body in sequins, ruffles, pantsuits, and feathers – and I am here for all of it.
Check out the jaw-dropping excess of their latest single ‘I’m Not Here to Make Friends’ which simply fills every floor with the drool of the thirsty and the panting the entire world over; an absolutely mandatory exercise in modern-day fabulosity, it must be seen to be studied and adored, and I’m happy to report that even at this late stage of my game, I was completely floored. This is the stuff of artistic legend and pop legacy. It’s also why Sam Smith is winningly crowned Dazzler of the Day, for what is likely not the last time.
Lighting a cadre of candles to make a stand against the cold, pulling a fuzzy robe a little closer around my neck, and setting up a pot of tea, I conjure the spirit of hygge. This is how we embrace the winter rather than stave it off – the latter being an impossible mission, we might as well admit. The days go much easier when we bend with their general flow instead of fighting against them. I wish I’d understood that a few decades ago.
Here is a little song to echo the blanket of snow that covers the outside world right now.
It’s a muted song, for a muted morning, in a world of blankets. Before the work day begins, and before the sky has lightened and turned whatever shade of gray we will get for the morning, I putter quietly around the living room while the tea kettle warms. Hello, winter, the soul implores, begging for the response to be kind and, dare we wish for such a thing, warm.
Most days there is no answer, such as on this morning. Only quiet and silence and the muted sense that things are in a state of slumber. It’s better than when the answer is a storm, when the winter claps back with a scowl and a threat. Softness is welcome. Kindness appreciated. The lack of an answer is just an answer to another question. Winter winds its madness around the brain like cold hands around a cup of tea.
Hot on the heels of a self-titled debut solo album, Giuliano D’Orazio has actually been a mainstay on the Worcester, MA music scene for years. A self-described queer rock and roll artist, D’Orazio earns this crowning as Dazzler of the Day thanks to the ten glorious songs that collectively comprise the rollicking tour de force of ‘Giuliano’. I can’t remember the last time I was so moved and entranced by an entire album (my favorites include lead track ‘Boy Next Door’, ‘Holy Grail’, and the powerful ‘Don’t Pray for Me’, but every song here is worth repeat listens). Check out D’Orazio’s website here for more information and music.
