One Last Post On Madonna (Before I Get Carried Away)

Oh, fine, I guess I better do one more post on Madonna.

You know what? It's OK. I've achieved what I set out to achieve. I've managed to avoid the temptation to embark upon a painstakingly elaborate 26-part series in which I microscopically dissect each and every Madonna single (and video) from the '80s (all of which have been microscopically dissected by myriad others), accompanied by borderline impenetrable analysis (heh heh ... "borderline") culled from an obscure Australian academic journal. Maybe in my next life.

Loyal readers may recall that I wrote a pair of blog posts on Madonna's first album because, well, I was doing a series on Aerobic Rock, and given that Madonna's first album is the very primal, crystalline essence of Aerobic Rock ground up and stuffed in tiny vials of pure aerobic goodness, I didn't want to leave myself vulnerable to accusations of '80s blogger negligence. Believe me, the urge was there to continue on and cover her second album with the same degree of thoroughness; shortly afterward, I re-visited Like a Virgin and, frankly, although I went on and on about how "Madonna never topped her first album!," I must admit that I enjoy Like a Virgin only slightly less than the debut. Let me put it this way: I'm pretty "meh" on "Pretender" and "Stay," but those are the very last two songs on the album, and I love everything else, so ... eight great songs out of ten, with the other two tucked neatly away at the end where I can ignore them? Pretty much a five-star listening experience, as far as I'm concerned. True Blue, on the other hand, I wouldn't necessarily call a five-star listening experience: I love me some "Open Your Heart," "La Isla Bonita," and "True Blue," generally love me some "Papa Don't Preach," have always been a bit lukewarm on "Live to Tell" (but it doesn't bother me much), and ... I couldn't even hum any of the non-singles, aside from "Where's the Party" (only due to its inclusion on You Can Dance, a frequent presence in my family's automobile cassette player).

My point is this: how could I possibly do a series called Herbert Walker Memories without talking, at least a little teeny tiny bit, about Madonna? Madonna was THE star of the era. Covering the pop music of 1989-1990 without talking about Madonna would be like covering American football from 1989-1990 without talking about the 49ers. I might not have anything new to say, but I'd look stupid if I didn't at least say something. I just wasn't cool with it. So ... here's my half-assed post about Madonna during the Like a Prayer era.

Like millions of other square, unadventurous, asexual Americans whose lives bore not the slightest passing resemblance to Madonna's, my parents purchased Like a Prayer on cassette. What those of you raised in the streaming and downloading era might not realize is that the physical album package was doused with an extremely potent perfume or chemical of some kind. From Wikipedia:

"The packaging on the first pressings of the CD, cassette, and LP were scented with patchouli oils to simulate church incense. A publicist for Warner Bros. Records revealed this had been the singer's idea; 'She wanted to create a flavor of the 60's and the church. She wanted to create a sensual feeling you could hear and smell'."

Well, fun gimmick and all, but let me tell ya, that scent never faded. I remember opening the cassette ten years later and, man, it still stank to high heaven. At least when the Stones did silly album cover gimmicks (the 3-D photo for Their Satanic Majesties Request, the real-life zipper for Sticky Fingers, the cardboard cut-out for Some Girls), they didn't do it in Smell-O-Vision. Also: Is that what it smells like in a Catholic church? No wonder the attendance numbers have gone down.

Funny thing but, "Like a Prayer," although the most well-known song on Like a Prayer, is also the song I enjoy the most on Like a Prayer. Sometimes you've got to hand it to the cultural consensus, folks. I don't know if it would make my Madonna Top 10, but it would probably make my Madonna Top 20. Also: I get that she was trying to make a wry, self-referential commentary on her own catalogue by choosing a song and album title so similar to Like a Virgin, but ... I dunno, I kind of wished she'd picked something else. It would be like if Pink Floyd released an album called Dark Side of the Asteroid Belt.

I was totally into "Express Yourself" back in the day, but I'm not as fond of it now, for reasons unknown. I guess I wouldn't say that it possesses the effortless grace of the best Madonna singles. Too many horns, not enough salsa-flavored piano solos (also, once upon a time, I was unfamiliar with the Staple Singers' "Respect Yourself.") "Love Song" is a Prince collaboration, and sounds like one too; I might have enjoyed a Sinead O'Connor cover version of it a little better. "Cherish" falls somewhere in between "Like a Prayer" and "Express Yourself" for me: it's sort of the album's attempt at an "early Madonna, cute cyber-girl next door" track, but I still detect more than a hint of artifice and calculation to it. Whereas Madonna used to poop out these kinds of songs once a morning without even breaking a sweat, here it sounds like she's taken a laxative and she's huffing and squeezing and twenty minutes later it finally plops into the bowl. Sure, in the end, it landed in the bowl, but not like in the olden days. I always get "Keep It Together" mixed up with "Causing a Commotion" from the Who's That Girl soundtrack; if someone played me a copy of Like a Prayer and literally swapped the tracks, I probably wouldn't even do a double-take.

One day, back when my family would cruise around listening to the album in the car, we suddenly and unanimously decided that "Dear Jessie" was the greatest thing since sliced bread. It was loopy and odd and didn't seem to owe much to dance-pop at all. For exactly one week, we played it on repeat incessantly. Suffice to say, at that age I was not the least bit familiar with late '60s psychedelic pop. Having become a little more familiar with psychedelic pop in the intervening years, I can see that "Dear Jessie" is what one might call a psychedelic "pastiche." Now that I know what Madonna was up to, I can't say I dislike it, but these days I'd just prefer the real thing (or the Dukes of Stratosphear). The spell hath been broken.

Then one day in the late '90s, my current co-blogger Zrbo confessed to me that he was suddenly in a Madonna-listening mood, and so I made him a Madonna mixtape out of all the long-since-untouched Madonna cassettes that we had lying around the house. For whatever reason, when I revisited Like a Prayer, I thought "You know what? 'Dear Jessie' isn't the sleeper cut on this album - 'Oh Father' is the sleeper cut!" And so, I added "Oh Father" to his "Best of Madonna" mixtape. As I recall, Zrbo commented that it was an "interesting" and "unexpected" selection, pressing me on my thought process in picking that song as opposed to a number of other potential candidates. It was just a split-second decision! Yeesh. (In my defense, it was a hit single, peaking at #20). Well, I wouldn't put it on a "Best of Madonna" mix now, but I will say that my late '90s instincts with "Oh Father" were sharper than my late '80s instincts were with "Dear Jessie." Here Madonna whines about her daddy issues over a disorienting time signature and a soaring orchestral arrangement. If every song on the album were about how much her old man stank, that would be one thing, but a quick little jab? Go for it.

For decades, AMG has rated Like a Prayer five stars. In a brief review published in my 1997 print edition, and one that the site hasn't expanded on or updated in 25 years, Stephen Thomas Erlewine writes:

Out of all of Madonna's albums, Like a Prayer is her most explicit attempt at a major artistic statement. Even though it is apparent that she is trying to make a "serious" album, the kaleidoscopic variety of pop styles on Like a Prayer is quite dazzling. Ranging from the deep funk of "Express Yourself" and "Keep It Together" to the haunting "Oh Father" and "Like a Prayer," Madonna displays a commanding sense of songcraft, making this her best and most consistent album.

In that old book edition, Like a Prayer and The Immaculate Collection were the only Madonna "albums" to receive five stars, but AMG has since bumped up her debut to five stars, and Erlewine's much lengthier and seemingly more enthusiastic review of that album suggests that he would no longer consider Like a Prayer to be her "best" album. You know what I think.

In the summer of 1990, few movie releases were treated like a bigger "event" than the release of Dick Tracy, and 10-year-old me bought the hype hook, line, and sinker; I remember drawing sketches of strange characters like Flattop, Pruneface, and Mumbles in a little scrapbook - before I even saw the damn thing! Haven't watched it since, of course. Todd in the Shadows does a superlative job of discussing the manner in which, only months after it came out, the mere existence of Dick Tracy was swiftly and collectively erased from the minds of all humanity, Men In Black-style, in his peerless series "CINEMADONNA." That said, while technically released on I'm Breathless: Music from and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy, I've always considered "Vogue" to be almost a Like a Prayer bonus track. And I have always taken great pride in being able to recite Madonna's infamous litany of golden age Hollywood stars word for word. Back in 1990, I don't think I had seen a single movie starring any one of these actors, but now I'm proud to say that I have seen at least one movie starring all of them, if not more than one (except .... uh ... Joe DiMaggio?). Wait, have I seen more than one movie starring Lana Turner? Wasn't she in both The Postman Always Rings Twice and Imitation of Life? Never mind. What I really want to know is this: How did Madonna transition so quickly from the positivity and inclusivity of a song like "Vogue" to ... whatever the hell "Justify My Love" is?

In my mind, Like a Prayer and "Vogue" represented the last time that Madonna was really the Head Honcho, the Big Cheese, Grand Poohbah of Pop Music. Which is funny, because, looking at her singles discography on Wikipedia, I'm a bit surprised to notice that she really didn't have any sort of chart slump after 1991 at all. "This Used to Be My Playground" came out in 1992 and hit #1, then Erotica came out, peaked at #2, featured several high-charting singles, then Bedtime Stories came out and essentially kept the train rolling. I think two things happened here. One: as I mentioned in my intro to this series, in early 1991, I lost virtually all interest in contemporary pop music for about two years or more. This might be why, in the summer of 1993, I suddenly heard "Rain" and "Deeper and Deeper" on the radio and thought, "Oh yeahhhhh. Ma-donnnnn-a. She's back." Back? Back?! Two: after 1991, I think dance-pop, while still riding high on the Billboard Hot 100, lost its cultural potency to alternative rock and hip-hop. I mean, when the most popular rock band in the world is releasing a song titled "Rape Me," and the most popular hip-hop artist of the day is gleefully rapping about fucking his enemies up the ass ("Fuck wit Dre Day"), singing about plain old vanilla consensual sex just ain't that shocking anymore.