I do prefer the opposite sex and all, but certain years in my past were marked by an unhealthy obsession with Madonna. I probably still own more of her albums than the average San Francisco drag queen, and even though her hold slipped on me in the Evita and Ray of Light administrations -- I think I’m the only person who didn’t really think her last album was an improvement on Erotica or Bedtime Stories -- I’m still seized with the compulsion to buy her albums on the first day of release. For the sake of credibility, I must add that this internal urge did not lead me to the soundtrack for The Next Best Thing. The woman had no right to perpetrate such a godawful cover of “American Pie.”
Now – in September, 2000, when it seems the iron fist of teen pop stands incapable of handing even a second of precious TRL airtime over to artists of legal drinking age – Madonna drops the bomb, the album that by all principles of pop artistry should give her a bigger comeback than Santana.
Music continues the techno-blip approach of Ray of Light, although she limits her collaboration with producer William Orbit to three songs and turns the reins over almost entirely to French producer Mirwais Ahmadzai. The result, by and large, is as contagious as chicken pox, competent song writing taken to the next level with ornate, lavish production that is of the moment one moment, evocative of the disco era past the next and way ahead of its time the moment after that.
I wasn’t expecting much from this album; it's almost impossible to be an adult music listener and remain a Madonna fan. Ray of Light took months to grow on me, and I still find myself skipping over a good six or seven of its tracks. And “Music” is a too-catchy lead-off single, but it never really takes off as, well, music.
That, and you always have the subconscious urge to dismiss someone like Madonna, who rides to wave on charisma and sexuality and uses it as a springboard to self-importance. You’re not really sure you want her career to span decades, but every few years, she puts out something you just can’t pass up. And so we have this album, her best since Like a Prayer.
Before I continue with a quick, song-by-song dissection, I need to make a side-note about the packaging. In a word or two, ignore it – it sucks, and so does the ranchero-pimp look that Madonna’s assumed to accompany her through this stage in her musical evolution. In the “Music” video and all the photos on and inside the album inserts, she looks like Kid Rock’s saucy Aunt Maybelline or something. So try not to let that factor influence your decision of whether or not to give the album a chance. For once, we’ve been handed a Madonna effort that’s not hinged on appearance or image.
Music – I know people who passionately hate this song, and I can understand why. There’s nothing on the current charts that invites quite so much ridicule as Madonna building her chorus around the word “bourgeoisie.” And, at first glance, “Music” seems like a total sham; the brain wants to reject it out of hand. But, if you’re like me, on the second or third listen, you get over the fact that it’s being sung by a 42-year-old woman and lose yourself in its dirty appeal and techno-funk production. And wonder if the producers who make every Backstreet and Christina Aguilera song sound the same won’t get out their notepads and start scribbling feverishly while they listen to this entire album.
Impressive Instant – The album’s first undeniable techno anthem, it’s f+cking cool. Listened to on a good stereo, this song immediately gets under your skin and pulses there the way dance tracks are supposed to. The full-bodied wall of production results in a handful of synthesized over-indulgences, but the finish product is the better for it. Only two songs in, Mirwais is already using Madonna’s voice as just another backing instrument, bending and distorting it as he sees fit. Which seems a surprisingly humble approach for such a mega-diva. Then again, she’s a big enough star that no one had the balls to ask her to work a little harder on lyrics like, “All of nature ebbs and flows…”
Runaway Lover – Warner Bros. would be some foolish mofos not to release this as a single and promote the hell out of it and make one of those trademark, $2 million Madonna videos to go along with it. This is brilliant, irresistible pop, catchy as hell yet musically intriguing. In terms of dance music and viable commercial product, this track is light years better than *N Sync and Britney. (BTW, Madonna gets nothing but props from me for rolling her eyes at the current breed of junior diva-sluts in her interview in the new Rolling Stone.) “Runaway Lover” is one of three William Orbit songs on Music and, by far, the best. It’s the only one that stands up to the Mirwais production.
I Deserve It – Fascinating guitar ballad in the girl singer-songwriter tradition. It’s plaintive Joni Mitchell meets Q-Tip meets Moby, with ethereal keyboard effects and an entrancing drum loop, among other noteworthy production elements.
Amazing – I was expecting a lot more songs on the album to sound like this. We have “Beautiful Stranger” with even more Smash Mouth surf-rock edge and random techno blips, decent but by no means superior to your average selection on MTV’s now-defunct show “Amp.” The second of the William Orbit collaborations, it’s a little too conventionally poppy under that booming bass line, and the bookends are a little too rock-opera for my tastes.
Nobody’s Perfect – You have to realize Cher’s "Believe" upped the disco-queen ante last year and, in essence, was a gauntlet slap to the face that challenged Madonna to a duel. Well, this is the Divine Miss M’s response, Vocoder-heavy and a funky appropriation of Jon Brion’s production sound for the last Fiona Apple album. And while the lyrics are a bit insipid at times (does this actually surprise anyone who owns multiple Madonna albums?), the ornate layering of sounds overcomes any invocation of the Mariah Carey High School Love Poetry syndrome. A wonderful song.
Don’t Tell Me – Our French techno maestro, Mirwais, again shows his capacity for tight, pleasantly puzzling beats by infusing a techno burst-of-sound approach to standard folk balladeering. And it’s amazing to see how subtle his approach actually is here – I’m starting to think Music might be one of the best albums of the year to listen to on headphones in the dark. Lots of intricate detail built around fat, lazy grooves.
What It Feels Like For a Girl – Weaker, more pop-cliché than the majority of the album, but in a low-brow way, this song has its appeal. It’s the “Dear Jessie” of the album, unabashedly happy and subject to a lot of computerized effect noise used for its own sake. The one-shot guest production by Guy Sigsworth and Mark “Spike” Stent isn’t up to par with the Mirwais work or the Orbit collaborations and, really, sounds more like a filler song you’d expect Madonna to donate to the soundtrack of the next romantic comedy in her cinematic ouevre. Sub-par.
Paradise (Not For Me) – Madonna declares “I can’t remember being young,” as severely manipulated high-pitch vocals sound a little too much like Mean Mr. Mustard’s evil robot assistants in the Bee Gees’ Sgt. Pepper movie. This track treads the line of self-parody and is perhaps a tad over-produced, but its rich, sci-fi keyboard effects make it appealing throughout. And, three minutes in, the song switches gears and totally salvages itself. (When have you ever known Madonna to flip a track on you like that? “Paradise” is some surprisingly creative sh+t.) The song lasts almost seven minutes; the second half is utterly entrancing.
Gone – William Orbit and Mike “T-Rex” Stent help Madonna close off the album with another marriage of guitar folk-ballad with drum-and-bass track. It’s more Carole King/Joni Mitchell posturing, and I half expected Madonna to ask us how many roads a man must walk down before you can call him a man. Not as good, but not a horrible album closer.
Music clocks in at barely under 45 minutes – 10 songs and no hidden track. It’s her shortest album since I’m Breathless, with no frills and no extras whatsoever. On the plus side, though, there’s a remarkable lack of filler among the ten songs that made the final cut. (How many mediocre outtakes will surface on maxi-singles, I wonder?)
I’m impressed. Like Elton said, the b+tch is back, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I’m really starting to like Madonna again. Music reminds me a lot of Beck’s Midnite Vultures, a classic modern party album that never quite got its due because it may have been too mature for modern pop and dance audiences.
And if Madonna doesn’t get her usual five-single stretch of smash hits from Music, it may be considered a commercial failure as well. But I can’t think of any of her albums since Like a Prayer that contained this many musically strong songs right out of the gate – and Madonna albums always have a way of growing on me, so I may like it even more in a few short months.
Madonna continues to be one of the biggest female stars in the world and Music was one of the biggest releases of 2000. Continuing the electronic danc...More at Buy.com Marketplaces
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