My 'MDNA' Addiction

In case anybody cares, here’s my review of Madonna’s latest album, MDNA. If you don’t care, you might want to check back tomorrow.

For a little while there, I was dubious about a new Madonna album, based on the first two singles. “Give Me All Your Luvin” was cute and I understood why she performed something so upbeat and poppy at the Super Bowl. But I tired of it quickly and realized after a few weeks that I had downloaded a new Madonna song, the first in almost three years, and had stopped listening to it. “Girl Gone Wild” was not encouraging as it sounds like generic ‘90s dance music. I need something more substantive from a new album as I like Madonna better when she’s darker and harder.

I am happy that the early reviews of MDNA were accurate and that there is much better material to be found than the singles (which has been raising a common question of why she released as singles two songs that aren’t that great and don’t represent the album). This is a very strong album featuring what I feel are Madonna's best opposing aspects: Transcendent joy and melancholy vulnerability. In that sense, the music is like the drug allusion in this collection's title: The songs range from ecstasy to the despairing comedown. There are the usual club stompers and escapist fare but there are also enough hints, mostly pertaining to her divorce from Guy Ritchie, that there is a heart of darkness beneath the surface. The strongest, weirdest, most introspective material comes from co-producer William Orbit, whom Madonna noted brings out her “tortured side.”

The party kicks off with “Gang Bang,” probably the most electrifying song Madonna has done in some time, an ominous song with a pounding beat. Sounding like an actress in a film noir, she sings in a sultry voice about murdering her lover. I love some of the lyrics to this one, like “You were building my coffin/ You were driving my hearse” and her whispered repetition of “I need you to die for me, baby.” Things take a left turn when Madonna breaks the tension by screaming “Now drive, bitch! And while you’re at it, die, bitch!” as if auditioning for a Quentin Tarantino movie. The song is a campy, hot mess in a good way. This sounds like nothing else in her catalogue.

As for the transcendent joy side of the equation, we have “I’m Addicted.” It’s a swirling, dizzying sister to “Impressive Instant,” each of them an ode to being so head over heels in love that the room is spinning and everything is moving too fast and your heart is pounding and you can’t get enough. These lyrics are really striking and surreal: “When did your name change from a word to a charm?/ No other sound makes the hair stand up on the back of my arm/ All of the letters push to the front of my mouth/ And saying your name is somewhere between a prayer and a shout/ And I can’t get it out.” “I’m Addicted” deserves to be heard at every gay club in heavy rotation this summer. Best of all, the song is joyful about something, not just mindless partying. My main complaint about Hard Candy was too many songs about dancing for its own sake. The joy became sort of shapeless.

On the lighter side of MDNA are “Turn Up the Radio” and “I’m a Sinner.” The first is a simple but effective plea to blast the music and drive somewhere far away when the world gets you down. It’s corny but that doesn’t mean the sentiment isn’t true. “I’m a Sinner” is just sublime. It has a swirling ‘60s feel as Madonna gleefully cops to her human frailties but concludes that she’s happy in her own skin. It ends with a lighthearted plea as she name checks Jesus, the Virgin Mary and various saints, reminiscent of the rap in “Vogue,” asking the holy men to “catch me before I sin again.” The lilting melody of this song is a breath of fresh air.

There were hints of marital trouble brewing in Hard Candy in 2008 but a few songs on the new album tackle the divorce directly. Madonna was smart not to make too much of this album divorce-centric as that would get cloying. As with the best breakup albums, the split merely informs the mood of the album; it does not dominate. There are catty denunciations such as “You were so mad at me/ Who’s got custody?” in “I Don’t Give A,” self-recrimination in “I Fucked Up” and sad regret in “Best Friend.” The latter two tracks are among the album’s nothing-to-write-home-about bonus tracks. Madonna did the right thing here in making the main album a lean 12 tracks in 50 minutes and leaving the B-side material for another disc. I hate when artists overstuff their albums because they can.

As for the rest of the breakup tracks, “Love Spent” addresses the topic of money in a relationship, comparing affection to currency. These are also some lyrics I find to be raw and effective: “I want you to hold me/ Like you hold your money/ Hold me in your arms/ Until there’s nothing left.” This is the singer at her best, offering an introspective, layered look at part of her life. It's a delicate balance of anger and grief, shifting between emotions in the same verse.


The comedown after the ecstasy, and the album's knockout punch, comes at the last track. “Falling Free” is a “Live to Tell”-level ballad, a haunting song pairing a lush string section with the strongest vocals I’ve heard from Madonna in some time. This song benefits from the co-writing of brother-in-law and respected musician Joe Henry. Their songs together are always magic and I wish they’d do a whole album together. Over a gorgeous melody, she mourns the breakup with Ritchie: “Deep and pure our hearts align/ And then I’m free, I’m free of mine/ When I let loose the need to know/ Then we’re both free, we’re free to go.” On paper, that “we’re both free” might look healing, like a happy ending after the pain, but when you hear it in context, “free to go” is one of the saddest things she’s ever written.

Since the early ‘90s, Madonna’s albums have always closed with a strong final song, either a declaration of defiance or a glimpse past the dance floor anthems into what makes the woman tick, something to move me and leave me wanting more. As I listen to the end of “Falling Free” with tears forming behind my eyes, I just think, “Dammit, Madonna, you got me again.”