never Miss a beat

I’ve never knowingly flashed my boobs in public. I mean I’ve flashed my boobs on BBC live telly while I was on a stranger’s shoulders during Plug In Baby at Muse’s headlining set, Glastonbury 2010. But it wasn’t done knowingly. I was wearing a strapless top and I was very, VERY excited having taken in a few hours of previous act Scissor Sisters and some other things. So I was on some guy’s shoulders, my hands were in the air, my boobs were somewhere below, my best friend was on some other stranger’s shoulders (her top had straps), we were holding hands, I guess the camera just loved it (my tits). But as I said before, it wasn’t a knowing flash. I didn’t know about the flash until I got back to my work PortaKabin backstage to be greeted by an “OMG! YOU AND YOUR BOOBS WERE ON THE BIG TELLY. WELL DONE!!!!!” (I quickly deflated the situation with a “really, right, I see… but how SHITE were Gorillaz last night” and that didn’t work). My life (One big actively happening accident).*

*(And yes it’s the flashing my boobs unintentionally and not my inability to shake off a Muse obsession that I’m embarrassed about).

In short, I’ve never intentionally flashed my tits in public because so far in my life I’ve never really had an urge to or the balls. I suppose you could say I have the balls to REFUSE to flash my tits because this weekend I realised that that is truly a Thing…

So I was sent to Download Festival. I know. Culturally diverse. In my defence, I heard recently that Lady Gaga is obsessed with metal and that heavy metal – ie, Pat Benatar – influenced all of the Born This Way album. Also, I listened to Andrew Weatherall the whole way there and nothing the whole way back because I was worried one more deep bassline might make my bowels go all Journey To The Center Of The Earth. Above all, I was paid for my sins… Anyway all that aside, I had a tremendous education in the maximum minimum time I spent at Download and mostly I’m impressed that it did away with all my unfair, narrow-minded, stereotypical impressions that most heavy metal is for long-bearded, anachronistic, misogynist biker morons… My days at Download, which included my first ever listen to Metallica’s Black Album (played live by Metallica backwards because the latter half is proper shit) were fun, so much so that I willingly* joined in on a “circle pit” and was voluntarily injured in the neck and bum (*forcibly by a superior colleague). Download was a hoot. BUT. 

This weekend in Donington (aka the Middle of Nowhere) I saw more boobs than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And I’ve seen the whole of Game Of Thrones: Season One and been to a stripclubso I’m DEFINITELY not a prude.  There are zero – perhaps minus number – boobs in Game Of Thrones in comparison with Download Festival. Hand on chest, such was the boob situation at Download I was actually concerned at one point that most women there had their bras confiscated from them on entrance to the site, or worse still that they didn’t own bras for fear of the judging hands of M&S/John Lewis measuring ladies and that’s why they’ve ended up in a dark abyss of listening to speed hardcore and Slipknot and that maybe I should set up a temporary clinic to advise them on bra purchasing and pass on the torch of knowledge (and an N*Sync CD) to as many poor souls as possible. The situation, however, was beyond my powers of salvation.

Do you want the good news or the bad news? Well, before I deliver both (eventually) I have to get something off my chest: Madonna is The Don, The Boss, The Dude, Her Majesty of Everywhere. Nobody in this universe can touch her. If I read another preamble or review about her latest album MDNA that builds context around Madonna’s place in a world that now contains Lady Gaga or compares her vocal pop abilities with those of Britney Spears, I am done with that person. Deleted.

There is no need whatsoever to talk about Madonna in relation to Gaga, Britney, Katy Perry, Rihanna, Kylie, Kitty Batshit Brucknell, or anyone else with a vagina, a chart song and a sense of drama. People have said it before and I will rip them off and say it again: None of these women would know how to put one hip in front of the over if it weren’t for Madonna. The popstars that have succeeded (as in “come chronologically after”) Madonna do not form part of Madonna’s Sphere. They are tiptoeing around her world, grateful of being given the limelight for a minute while the “Queen of Pop” has been momentarily distracted doing whatever she does to chill out (Ryvita snacks and/or 21-year-old dancers… Madge FTW).

Just because popstars have Being A Woman in common, doesn’t mean they have anything to do with Madonna’s job. (I don’t imagine fans of Paul Weller would be impressed if his latest was judged according to “where the Modfather sits” with post-Weller products such as Miles Kane or Kasabian. Music fans would not be impressed because THAT WOULD BE EXTREMELY RUDE, and pointless. Weller isn’t sitting with his guitar thinking about what Liam Gallagher’s peddling in Pretty Green. Similarly, Madonna isn’t downloading Rosetta Stone: Advanced German because Lady Gaga has Rilke tattooed up her arm.) Madonna is not thinking about all the “others” (…maybe she is just a little). They weren’t there when she started her career and they likely will not be there when she finishes it (insert large IF she finishes it). When asked what she thought of Lady Gaga a few months ago by Graham Norton Madonna’s response may as well have been: “[shrug]…[rolls eyes]… Whatever.” If you’re going to put MDNA in “context”, get it right: when Madonna sits down to write an album, the only person “Madonna” has to compete with is… MADONNA.

And imagine that - you’re Madonna. The facts: You’ve sold 300 million records since 1979; You are still only 53; You have built a career on outdoing yourself; You have more fans than the Americas have people; You were responsible for ’80s pop hits like Get Into The Groove, Like A Virgin and Papa Don’t Preach; You got naked – really naked – on coffee tables; You are responsible for Ray Of Light; You made (upper case) Music; You own Like A Prayer; Confessions On A Dancefloor was something YOU did… I could just throw words around like “Frozen” (ZOMG), “Cherish” (amazarama), “Sorry” (multilingual!), “VOGUE” (FFS!) all day long and you’d get only one pixel of the picture. It must be exciting but also terrifying being as successful as Madonna because - frankly - what the hell do you do next? Who do you allow in? Is it a risk even opening your mouth again to do an Ocado order in case you speak a sentence less poignant than “Beauty’s where you find it”? For Madonna, it’s enough trying to deal with herself. So let’s consider Madonna in light of Madonna please.

Which brings me to the point: is MDNA any good? I will start with the bad news. I’m not sure I was in the same room as everyone else at the Madonna MDNA listeners party (at Abbey Road Studios, *wees with excitement*). All the cliched talk in the papers and blogs about an hour following the playback was of a “Return to form” blah-blah-blah… Not since Woody Allen’s Midnight In Paris has there been such overuse of the phrase. And, btw, Midnight In Paris was charming, funny and intelligent but it was NOT a return to form. “On form Woody Allen” is Manhattan, Annie Hall, Hannah And Her Sisters… To say Midnight In Paris was in the same vein is not only wrong, it’s an insult to his best work. I suppose in this respect (and in this respect only) Madonna is just like Woody Allen; a visionary who continues to create (thank GOD) but is in a post-apex stage of their career, their fans desperate to re-live the golden age, like a Manchester United supporter dying to see a less acclaimed side win the Treble. When you consider Ray Of Light or Immaculate Collection or Music or Confessions On A Dancefloor and then you listen to MDNA, you are no longer in the same ballpark. Nobody should be asking if it’s a good album by modern pop standards. That’s not the question Madonna’s asking. Is it a “great” album by Madonna standards? No. Well… it  depends on which half of the album you listen to.