2008 Woodie Awards
Madonna CD Hardly Grooves
Jim Farber / New York Daily News (KRT)
Issue date: 11/21/05 Section: Entertainment
Making music that is fun takes hard work. You need airborne melodies, insouciant hooks and a beat you cannot resist. Such were the goals of Madonna's Confessions on a Dance Floor, in stores Tuesday.
As every breathing person knows by now, Madonna intends her new CD as a return to the zesty dance pop that launched her. Confessions aims to bring back the halcyon days when Madonna whipped every club to a frenzy with hits like "Holiday" and "Into the Groove."
The mandate comes at a telling time. Madonna's last album, the deadeningly literal American Life, was the first sales boo-boo of her career (barely going gold in America). So, getting back the fun was not just a whim - it was a career necessity.
Since we are talking about Madonna, the feat of making terrific dance records was not enough. She also has to teach us something. Thankfully, her windy bromides do not kick in until halfway through. And before they do, Madonna delivers such beat-crazed bliss, we can forgive her for (almost) anything.
The first three tracks on Confessions pump so hard it may take you a while to get beyond them. (I suggest taking as much time as you can.) You already know the single, "Hung Up," a pulsating mulch of Giorgio Moroder beats and Abba-sampled pop that has the boogie-oogie-oogie fever down pat. It is chased by "Get Together," a swirling blur of beats, followed by "Sorry," with a bass line that will drive deejays to distraction.
Other engaging tracks turn up: "I Love New York" not only celebrates our city (at the expense of Paris, London and L.A.), it boasts a hot chord structure recalling Iggy Pop's "Now I Wanna Be Your Dog." "Future Lovers" has some of the hypnotic lure of Madonna's "Erotica."
The deeper problem comes when Madonna feels she has given us kids enough fun and it is time for some serious lessons. Starting on track six, the improbably named "Let It Will Be," Madonna sings "Now I can tell you about fame," as if she hasn't told us about it 100 times before. In "How High," she blah-blah-blah's about celebrity culture, a subject she seems to take to heart more than most. And, naturally, it would not be the modern Madonna if she did not work in a kabbalah nod: the inorganic, Hebraic dance cut "Isaac."
Whenever Madonna tries to be "meaningful" in this way, she winds up obscuring something far more substantial - the wit, sex and intelligence of great dance music. Only when she is content to deliver that does Confessions have the goods to move you.
As every breathing person knows by now, Madonna intends her new CD as a return to the zesty dance pop that launched her. Confessions aims to bring back the halcyon days when Madonna whipped every club to a frenzy with hits like "Holiday" and "Into the Groove."
The mandate comes at a telling time. Madonna's last album, the deadeningly literal American Life, was the first sales boo-boo of her career (barely going gold in America). So, getting back the fun was not just a whim - it was a career necessity.
Since we are talking about Madonna, the feat of making terrific dance records was not enough. She also has to teach us something. Thankfully, her windy bromides do not kick in until halfway through. And before they do, Madonna delivers such beat-crazed bliss, we can forgive her for (almost) anything.
The first three tracks on Confessions pump so hard it may take you a while to get beyond them. (I suggest taking as much time as you can.) You already know the single, "Hung Up," a pulsating mulch of Giorgio Moroder beats and Abba-sampled pop that has the boogie-oogie-oogie fever down pat. It is chased by "Get Together," a swirling blur of beats, followed by "Sorry," with a bass line that will drive deejays to distraction.
Other engaging tracks turn up: "I Love New York" not only celebrates our city (at the expense of Paris, London and L.A.), it boasts a hot chord structure recalling Iggy Pop's "Now I Wanna Be Your Dog." "Future Lovers" has some of the hypnotic lure of Madonna's "Erotica."
The deeper problem comes when Madonna feels she has given us kids enough fun and it is time for some serious lessons. Starting on track six, the improbably named "Let It Will Be," Madonna sings "Now I can tell you about fame," as if she hasn't told us about it 100 times before. In "How High," she blah-blah-blah's about celebrity culture, a subject she seems to take to heart more than most. And, naturally, it would not be the modern Madonna if she did not work in a kabbalah nod: the inorganic, Hebraic dance cut "Isaac."
Whenever Madonna tries to be "meaningful" in this way, she winds up obscuring something far more substantial - the wit, sex and intelligence of great dance music. Only when she is content to deliver that does Confessions have the goods to move you.