She arrived like Cleopatra – carried in by an enormous troop of gladiatorially-garbed men. A wall of larger-than-life faux palm fronds parted to the opening salvo of ‘Vogue’ ~ What are you looking at? ~ a ridiculous question when all eyes were so clearly on Madonna, revealed in an extravagant head-dress and sparkling golden robe. Half Isis, Half American Goddess, Half Woman Warrior – she was here to stake her claim as rightful occupant to her once and future pop throne. And, by most accounts, she slayed it.

It was dazzling, it was stunning, it was like she transported us into a different world. I don’t know about anyone else, but it no longer felt like a football game to me – and God knows I couldn’t be more thankful for that.

As with most things Madonna, it was the overall effect that powed and wowed. Her vocals were mostly lip-synced. Without a proper sound-check for an avowed (and proven) perfectionist, there’s no way she was going to rely on a live sound-system, and there’s no way she should have done that for a show like this. She wasn’t there to impress with her vocal stylings and nuanced singing – she was there to entertain and put on a show – and I defy anyone to do it better.

It managed to be intimate and grand, theatrical and universal, intricate and epic ~ the most difficult balancing act pulled off by one of the greatest entertainers the world will ever see. When Madonna comes to play there is no better showstopper.

After the brilliance of ‘Vogue’, she went into a rollicking version of ‘Music’, where her only (exceedingly minor) flub was when she couldn’t quite get up onto a bench on the first try – so small was it that I missed the misstep entirely on first viewing. Hey, I couldn’t do that in high heels.

Surprisingly I enjoyed the LMFAO segment – a mash up of ‘Music’, ‘Party Rock Anthem’, and ‘I’m Sexy & I Know It’ – and Madonna was clearly having a good time by that point. The dance break finishing it was killer. “Every day I’m shuffling” indeed.

Going back to her cheerleader roots, she performed new single ‘Give Me All Your Luvin’ with Nicky Minaj and M.I.A., the latter giving the camera the middle-finger (another thing that went so quickly by I didn’t even see it – and I have to wonder if all the hoopla over this isn’t just a desperate grab at some sort of halftime show controversy where none really existed – most people I talked to didn’t see it either). Regardless, it wasn’t Madonna, so let someone else take the heat for once.

A couple of drum corps snapping their snares announced the arrival of Cee-Lo, whose presence I initially met with raised eyebrow and low expectations, but he delivered too. As she exchanged bits of ‘Open Your Heart’ and ‘Express Yourself’ with him as band-leader, it instantly became another highlight for me. That two lines from each could have such a thrilling effect is one of the wonders of Madonna. She can pull from her vast, rich history and instantly evoke a memory, an emotion, a smile – and suddenly the very best of what pop music can do is revealed then instantly shrouded in tantalizing mystique. It is a delicious sprinkling of the Madonna magic, manifesting itself right in the midst of America’s biggest sports night.

As well as Cee-Lo did with his brief intro, I had my doubts that he could step up to ‘Like A Prayer’ – I didn’t know if he had the gravitas, having only known him from his novelty ‘Fuck You’ song. It was another thrill to see him don a sequined choir robe and bring his A-game to the magnificence that is ‘Like A Prayer’. As the football field, markers and all, seemed to magically roll into the stage itself (the wonders of technology), Madonna had indeed managed to preach a world-reaching sermon in the sacred church of Middle America, thereby securing her hallowed place in pop culture for the umpteenth time.

Before you knew it, but after what felt like an entire concert rolled into 12 minutes, she was gone, having disappeared Wicked-Witch-like in a blast of smoke through the floor. Almost thirty years into this game, no one else can put on a more spectacular show. The Queen has returned, and this was her ultimate proclamation that she is nowhere near ready to abdicate the throne.

“If I was a drink I’d be a lemon drop.” ~ Madonna, ‘SuperPop’

There’s really only one way I’m getting through the entire Superbowl, and that’s with the help of a little drinking game. I scouted around for good words to use – something that would be said with some frequency, but not so much that by the half-time show I’d be passed out. My friend Jen came up with ‘Blitz’ – which was perfect on a number of levels, and so it shall be. If you want to play along, take a sip of your beverage every time the word “Blitz” is used.

Contingency plan: should there not be enough blitzing after the first… half? quarter? How in the hell is this game divided again? – we will switch to the word “coverage”. Should that fail to ease the pain, we will drink every time the word “the” is used. And if that’s still not enough then get some help.

The libation of choice is, in honor of our half-time girl, the lemon drop – one of Madonna’s favorite cocktails. Here are the ingredients for one:

- 1 ½ ounces vodka (preferably citrus)
- ½ ounce triple sec (or preferably Limoncello)
- 1 teaspoon superfine sugar
- ¾ ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
- Lemon twist (for garnish)

Since it’s the Superbowl (a rough and tumble event if ever there was one), we’re not going to be all FussyLittleBlog about this, so mix it up with some ice and simply strain into a cocktail glass of your choosing. Most lemon drops have a sugar rim to them, but there’s nothing I despise more than a sugar rim, hand to God.

So start your engines, because once the Superbowl begins we’re going on a tear, and there’s no telling where this game may take us.

I absolutely love it.

No matter how much other drama is going on in my life, there’s always Madonna to make the day just a little bit better.

Aside from my pet-peeve for intentionally-misspelled and supposedly-cute versions of “words” ~ i.e. “luvin” – I was initially otherwise unimpressed with the demo version of the new Madonna single that leaked a few months back. While not quite ready for a “comeback” (her career has never suffered the sort of post-Sex backlash of the early 90’s), she is due for a grand return (this new album will mark the first since 2008’s Hard Candy – a relatively lengthy stretch between new Madonna studio albums). As such, it is being hyped by fans as a big deal. As for the lead-off single, I’m not sure ‘Give Me All Your Luvin’’(GMAYL) delivers.

It certainly doesn’t come close to the majesty and pomp of ‘Like A Prayer’ or ‘Frozen’ – two lead-off singles from now-iconic musical moments in her career – but we’re living in a different world now, and quick flashes of catchy-if-empty tunes seem to be where all the radio-play and chart action is. Still, this is Madonna, and I was hoping for something a little less… trifling. GMAYL is almost a throwaway track – fun and instantly likable, but almost as instantly forgettable – and if there’s one thing Madonna does best, it’s the unforgettable.

The final version, however, has grown on me some. She certainly knows her way around a verse, and if the chorus doesn’t quite live up to her legend, it still manages to thrill in its own way. The cover art is nice, in a casual, fun, carefree way – we don’t often get unabashed and abandoned fun from her. While I love it when she goes serious and introspective, I can also appreciate that the world is not going to embrace a ballad a la ‘Frozen’. Once again, Madonna knows what she’s doing – and whether or not the song is a huge hit for her, she’s put herself in our collective consciousness almost three decades after she first entered it.

The new chapter has begun…

The Madonna Promotional Blitz is in full-effect this week, which means I’ve seen more television in three days than I usually watch in a year (including Jay Leno, which dimmed my view of society even more). Today she makes an appearance on the Anderson Cooper show, and her video for ‘Gimme All Your Luvin’ previews on ‘American Idol’ tonight. The cover art for her upcoming album MDNA has just been released (above) and it absolutely rocks. Vibrant, of-the-moment, yet retaining a bit of an 80’s retro vibe, it’s striking and instantly iconic. It’s not so overtly Madonna-centric (like Bedtime Stories or Ray of Light), rather more along the lines of the abstract beauty of Erotica coupled with the high-gloss glamour of True Blue.

Of course the main event we’ve all been waiting for is the Superbowl Half-time show, and if her track record is any indication, she’ll pull it off in spectacular fashion. Billboard Magazine just listed her Top 5 television performances, and while I agree with most of them, they left off her amazing Live Aid and Live Earth shows, which to me are more in keeping with how the Superbowl will run (in terms of scope and size).

This is the most excited I’ve been about a Superbowl since mastering the choreography to the Bears’ Superbowl Shuffle back around 1986. (Hey, I didn’t have much else going on in my life that Winter.) This time around it’s all about Madonna. I could not care less about the game. That said, go Patriotics!!! Go Greg Brady!!! And above all, Go Madonna!!!

This is supposedly the ad for David Beckham’s new H&M Bodywear line that’s set to air during the Superbowl, which, along with Madonna, may make this sporting event the gayest one that has ever existed. I mean, David Beckham in his underwear AND Madonna at the half-time show? Where’s a boy supposed to look first?

At first I really wasn’t sure about this. That hair, and all the tulle… were we really veering into latter-day Mae West territory?

It was about to bring back bad memories of all that went wrong with those Hard Candy photo-shoots.

Then I saw the train, and the details, and suddenly it started to work. Brilliantly.

How could I have ever doubted?

Early evening, in the midst of an endless and snowy winter. In the hallway of my childhood home, the television in my parents’ room glows, and MTV – a relatively recent addition to our lives – is playing Madonna’s ‘Open Your Heart’ video. I am alone upstairs, looking into the mirror above my mother’s bureau, while anonymous men look into the peep-show of Madonna’s video world.

The carpet in the room is blue, the bedspread a faded pastiche of pastels. Pale white-washed furniture stands on elegantly carved feet, while two candelabra lamps glow on each end of the bureau. It is one of my strongest childhood memories, and I don’t know why, for nothing other than Madonna and my solitude was happening, yet I distinctly remember that moment, that scene, the way the light fell – more than I remember most of my birthdays. It must have been early 1987, which made me all of eleven years old.

I see you on the street and you walk on by,
You make me wanna hang my head down and cry,
If you gave me half the chance you’d see,
My desire burning inside of me…

As a kid, I wasn’t the most social of children – preferring to entertain myself in solitude, far more interested in walks in the woods or the pursuit of solitary projects in my room. Yet part of me longed for company, to be a part of something, even as I pushed my contemporaries away. It was the essence of this song – yearning for someone to open their heart and include you in their life. I couldn’t see that then – I only loved a catchy hook and a decent beat.

But you choose to look the other way…

Back then, I never really “hung out” with people. School was my social scene, and it was enough. It was more than enough, and it was like work. As such, it was tainted with the drudgery of forced labor, lacking in the joy and play that I wanted to surround social activities. I was well-liked enough, but I left those friendships and relationships at school, and was happy to do so.

I took the easy way out and just hung out with the friends my brother brought home. It was easier that way, and I could get away if I got bored, without being expected to provide entertainment, any sort of babysitting, or the awkward exit strategy.

My brother’s friends, younger than me by a year or two, were good enough for companionship, for the boyhood camaraderie that I simultaneously sought out and rejected. I always wanted for adventure, for some Stand By Me/Goonies journey filled with exciting twists and turns, and a small, measured dose of danger to keep us on our toes – but such travails work best when you’re not alone.

We did the best we could, finding thrills in night-time games of hide-and-seek, now and then embarking on the planning of a fort in the woods (which would never see any real building), or enacting bike chases in front of befuddled neighbors.

I’ve had to work much harder than this
For something I want
Don’t try to resist me…

For all my enjoyment of solitude, part of me wanted to be some integral part of a pack, an instantly-assimilated team player, even as my otherness made it impossible. On one night, my brother was invited over to his friend’s house for a sleepover. I desperately wanted to go too, but pride prevented me from asking outright. Instead, I called over to the house, inventing some lame easily-seen-through excuse to talk to my brother. We spoke briefly, and then he had to go. About half-an-hour later I called back. I asked for my brother again, and his friend’s Mom asked if I wanted to come over. A quick feigning of surprise and utter interior relief, and I was soon part of the sleepover, running around the wood-paneled basement and hiding from their huge dog.

Open your heart to me, baby,
I hold the lock and you hold the key
Open your heart to me, darling,
I’ll give you love if you,
You turn the key.

I’ll probably never know what my brother and his friends thought of me, other than some sometimes-bothersome tag-a-long, or funny older brother – he claims to not remember much, and even my perfect memory has suffered a little deterioration. But whenever I hear ‘Open Your Heart’, the memory comes back – the memories, I should say – and instantly I’m that little boy again, begging to be asked, to be invited.

I think that you’re afraid to look in my eye
You look a little sad, boy, I wonder why
I follow you around but you can’t see
You’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice
So you choose to look the other way
Well I’ve got something to say…

“Open Your Heart” was, looking back, one of the major themes of my boyhood. As much as I fought against it, all I really wanted was to belong, and to be welcomed. All of my acting out, all of my strange behavior, all of the weird attention-getting antics ~ they were my convoluted ways of pleading for acceptance and love.

Don’t try to run I can keep up with you
Nothing can stop me from trying
You’ve got to open your heart to me, baby
I hold the lock and you hold the key
Open your heart to me, darling
I’ll give you love if you, you turn the key…

The strange thing is, the very ways I went about finding friends and companionship were so odd, and my interests and passions so atypical of an eleven-year-old boy (plants, flowers, tropical fish, Madonna, unicorns, dolls, glitter) that I alienated as much as I sought. It would be a conundrum that haunted my way through adolescence and into adulthood, and in so many key ways is with me to this day. All I can do to counter it, to vainly strive to show what it all means, is to put up a Madonna post and have her plead my case.

Open your heart with the key
One is such a lonely number…

Open your heart, I’ll make you love me
It’s not that hard, if you just turn the key
Don’t try to run I can keep up with you
Nothing can stop me from trying
You’ve got to open your heart to me, baby
I hold the lock and you hold the key
Open your heart to me, darling
I’ll give you love if you, you turn the key…

Song #62 – ‘Open Your Heart’ – Winter 1987

I didn’t get to see her acceptance speech for Best Song (“Masterpiece”), but I did hear that several people thought she was narcissistic and arrogant. Well, duh. It’s Madonna, and she’s entitled. And as Matthew Rettennmund rightfully points out, she never wins anything, so I’m forgiving most of what she may have said.

Let’s talk, instead, about the dress. While I think it’s lovely enough, it feels like she settled for an in-between version of a full-blown ball gown (which I would have loved) and something far simpler. The diamonds do brighten it all up, though I have mixed feelings about the cross. Still, the whole effect is passably pretty, but once again I yearn, perhaps unfairly, for something more.

I like when she goes daring and edgy (as in her dramatic canary Olivier Theyskens gown, woefully under-appreciated at the 1998 VH-1 Fashion Awards, her brilliant bunny-eared Louis Vuitton ensemble at the 2009 Met Gala, or the glorious John Galliano get-up of the Evita premiere in 1996 – my favorite red-carpet look of all-time), and this one seemed to play it just a little safe – albeit in a gorgeous way

It’s a nice soft set-up for what she’s going to wear for her next high-profile appearances: the Superbowl and the Oscars (assuming she attends the latter). I hope she removes the half-gloves before they become a sad trademark, or opts for a full-length formal version a la the Golden Globes of 1996, or the bombshell Marilyn Monroe-homage at the Oscars in 1991. Love it or hate it, the world is once again talking about Madonna. She wins.