So Madonna having a 40th anniversary concert tour. It opens in Vancouver at Rogers Arena, a ten-minute walk from my place. Tickets went on sale today. I didn’t get them. Didn’t even try.
Weirdly, I’ve never been to a Madonna concert. I had all her albums up until “Ray of Light.” Even bought the extended single for “Get into the Groove” when it didn’t appear on an album. Hell, I bought the 45 of “Sidewalk Talk” by Jellybean Benitez because Madonna sang backing vocals. And, let’s face it, Madonna wasn’t really known for her vocals.
I adored Madonna as much as the next gay in the ’80s and ’90s. I even considered myself a fan before the gays latched onto her. That first hit, “Holiday,” had me. It wasn’t ever going to be nominated for a Grammy, but it was an insanely catchy piece of pop music. It made me want to dance around in my dorm room. It made me happy. When “Borderline” got me believing there might be a career for this singer who dared to be so self-important as to go by one name—hoping to be more Cher than Melanie—I bought her album. I loved it all. I propped up the album cover in the window, letting it compete with my enormous poster for Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical” album. Every song gave me happy dancing vibes. Through repeated plays, I managed to never scratch the vinyl. I suppose I took extra care.
Madonna broke out as MTV and music videos were taking off. I always stopped everything I was doing when “Borderline” came on. There’s a little kick she does against a street pole that still gets me. I don’t know why. Her video for “Lucky Star” was barebones—simple dance moves against a white background. I couldn’t look away. Madonna worked some sort of hypnotic power over me. I was a fan before ever coming out, before ever stepping foot on a dancefloor in a gay bar.
Still, no concert. I’m admittedly not a huge concert goer. My experience has been shelling out lots of money for crappy seats, particularly back in the ’80s and early ’90s when I didn’t have much money. I once went to a Bette Midler concert and only glimpsed her from high above whenever she appeared on the right side of the stage which, as luck would have it, was far less than half the time. (Or so it seemed.) Still, I’ve been fortunate to see some greats. Barry Manilow—say what you want about his music, but the guy knew how to put on a show—Elton John, Natalie Cole, Barbra Streisand, Melissa Etheridge, Sarah McLachlan, Lady Gaga, Anita Baker, even Kenny Rogers in his prime. (It was during my Texas years and I had a crush on a guy who was in the group I went with. It was mighty weird pining over a dude, giving him sideways glances as Kenny sang “Lady.”)
I suppose the Blond Ambition tour would have been when I wanted to see her the most. I passed. I think part of me knew the vocals wouldn’t be nearly as good as her voice on record. I give her credit for using a real mic while dancing around, Burning Up more oodles more calories than I ever worked off during Super Step classes at the gym. Glad she didn’t go the Janet or Britney route and lip sync. In truth, I was never drawn to Madonna as a staged spectacle. I didn’t need the shock value gimmicks involving conical boobs and potshots at Catholicism. Feigning shock and indignation over attempts to ban or arrest her were sideline theatrics that most of her fans lapped up. Papa Don’t Preach, indeed! It made seeing her live come off as its own daring act. Truth is I never cared for her tough girl banter and watching a concert clip of her vaudevillian banging around with backing vocalists on “Causing a Commotion” came off as juvenile. All I wanted was the music. I stayed home, irking only the neighbors as I sang along—badly—to “Crazy for You” and “Open Your Heart.”
She’s always sought the limelight. Craved it. Commanded it. Sometimes I wonder how much bigger she’d have been—is that even possible?—had she gotten her start with TikTok going at full steam, with all the other social media platforms. She’d have out-Kardashianed Kim.
As much as her extensive discography, she’s still remembered for writhing around in a wedding dress while singing “Like a Virgin” at the 1984 MTV Awards, her “Justify My Love” video, “Erotica,” the Sex book and deep throating a bottle in the “Truth or Dare” documentary.
Yes, she pushed sex while Nancy Reagan was telling youth to “Just Say No” and she accepted gay men with open arms while governments and the public shunned them during the AIDS crisis. She made coming out better. She made clubbing more fun as we Vogued and stared at the screens, ogling the male models in her “Cherish” video. An icon, without a doubt.
But then it got derivative. Kissing Britney and Christina at the 2003 MTV Awards. Mounting herself on a crucifix during a 2013 tour. I had to look that one up. Don’t remember it. Don’t know if I even read about it at the time. Madonna wasn’t making headlines anymore.
Madonna’s attempts to grab headlines now seem forced. Embarrassing even. There have been inane comments about COVID and more flesh-baring moments that come off as tired and desperate rather than edgy. It’s hard to come off as hip when she’s already been there and done all of that. A fake Truth or Dare video with Amy Schumer saying, “I dare you to go on tour” seems childish…and boring. Brings the game back to its roots—fifth graders on a playground—instead of that era of the ’80s and ’90s when gays lapped up everything Madonna said and did.
By now, I’d have hoped Madonna would have evolved. Matured even. Maybe taken inspiration from the legacies of Dolly Parton, Audrey Hepburn and Jane Fonda. I don’t want to see a sixty-four-year-old mother of six baring her breasts yet again, searching for ways for it to seem fresh. It’ll never be fresh again.
Not that Madonna’s leaning on me for career and image advice, but I’d rather Madonna spend more time as the strong advocate she’s been, speaking out about gay rights, women’s rights and the continuing discrepancies in healthcare and education in places like Malawi from where she adopted four of her children. I Googled Madonna’s name along with “trans rights” and nothing specific came up. I would have thought she’d have been speaking out against J.K. Rowling, mocking conservatives who are afraid to use public bathrooms and showing up at protests to raise concerns about violence toward people who identify as transgender.
Scanning her activity on Twitter over the past year, there’s lots of self-promotion, which is to be expected, along with a couple of tweets about voting, another that says “Artists are here to disturb the peace,” a couple of Pride tweets and a few in-the-moment about abortions rights after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, one about Uvalde, one from thirteen months ago about “bring(ing) lifesaving healthcare to children in Malawi and all around the world.” It’s good but there is no sustained attention to any cause.
Not that she has to do anything. I’ve just always associated her with poking at entrenched conservatives while putting the spotlight on, not just herself, but human rights. I also Googled Annie Lennox, another ’80s icon, to discover that Lennox continues to do the good work. It’s not so well known in North America because her star has faded. I believe Madonna can still get attention, albeit a fraction of what she once garnered. She could put it to good use, getting into “good trouble.” She’d find creative ways to bring attention to causes, probably building on the brash, ballsy reputation she’s built. That would excite me. That would make me pay attention to more of what she’s up to. I probably still wouldn’t pay for a concert ticket but, if she were part of a large-scale concert for a key cause, that might be what it takes for me to finally see her live.
In the meantime, I’ll sit out this tour. I’ll continue to listen to the music though. Currently, I’m rediscovering “Drowned World/Substitute for Love,” the overlooked “Ghosttown” and gems like “Rain” and “Don’t Tell Me,” along with all the bigger hits.
If you got tickets, enjoy the show. Dance, sing, laugh. I suppose that’s how it all started as Madonna rose to fame all those years ago.
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