Madonna may have once quipped that she wanted an X rating for her Truth or Dare documentary because X meant “Xtra fun,” but Madame X can be rated as such for being Xtra cerebral. While the opening track and first single from the album, “Medellín,” might have led one to believe Madonna was in a party/vacation mood, further listening of the album quickly reveals that Lady M is, more than ever, in contemplative meets uncensored mode. As she so poignantly snapped back to a reporter for the British press, “What do I have left to prove?” And it is with this freeing mindset that she has released what is being called (with something of a hint of condescension) “her most progressive and original record since Confessions”–though that seems like the wrong album comparison, Ray of Light and American Life being more fitting in terms of likening it to other endeavors. And yet, to compare Madame X to anything Madonna has ever done before would be…reductive.
For yes, this is the most fearless she’s ever dared to go, perhaps knowing full well that the “mainstream” isn’t going to embrace her anymore anyway. And those left still listening are all the better for it. It is a direct assault on the mind as “Medellín” segues immediately into a similarly epic in length and sonic composition “Dark Ballet.” Because clearly Madonna decided she’s sated her listener enough with “good vibes” for awhile, opting for a narrative centered around Joan of Arc, portrayed in Madonna’s modern day version of her by Mykki Blanco in a dramatically sweeping in visuals video directed by Emmanuel Adjei. With the theme of religion oozing out of the track, it is only fitting that Madonna should follow it with “God Control,” also produced by her most cerebral and politically charged collaborator, Mirwais Ahmadzaï (best loved for his work on her 2000 single [and album of the same name], “Music”). But Mirwais isn’t in the Music mindset so much as an American Life form, favoring backing choir vocals and a vocoder-equipped Madonna as he interweaves the disco-inspired beats that surely punctuated her initial introduction to the dance floor in the 70s (and yes, Madonna has paid homage to disco queen Donna Summer many times before in her oeuvre).
Wielding her new tactic of 1) “Crave” voice (a sort of style that seems to involve Madonna barely moving her mouth) and 2) structuring a song to sound like two songs in one, the track breaks off from a pensive and rueful tone to one of ironic jubilance as she chants, “This is your wake up call.” One that the Queen of Pop (though is “pop” really what she’s been doing the past twenty-plus years when it’s evident she doesn’t quite fit into this genre of frivolity?) has been trying to deliver for decades. Whether in her music or live performances, Madonna has never ceased to be political, riling up every nation from Russia to France with her imagery. For this, among many other reasons, she sings, “Insane people think I am/Brain inside my only friend” in a manner that’s something of an upgrade to “American Life” rap. In between touting that she doesn’t smoke dope (another testament to her 70s influence), she insists on a new democracy—maybe one that doesn’t involve the domination of celebrity culture.
This transitions naturally into the thematics of “Future” featuring Quavo (who took the stage with M during her parodically maligned Eurovision performance). More playful in tone thanks to Diplo’s dancehall prerogative, Madonna’s message still remains serious: “not everyone can come into the future/not everybody’s learning from the past.” And surely if anyone can speak on the adaptive nature required to evolve, it’s Madonna. Whose reverence for the past and what the best elements of it can bring to the present(/future) appears on “Batuka,” a visceral rallying call to keep fighting. Haunting backing chants and tireless drums are accentuated by Madonna’s lament, “It’s a long way” as she shades Trump as an “old man” (see, men? Ageism works both ways) who needs to be put in jail. Unlike any offering she’s ever recorded, there is almost a slave song-like quality to the rhythm and sound. That her son, David Banda, is given a writing credit indicates just how collaborative this recording is. Indeed, it is the sense of collaboration throughout the record that makes it stand apart from her others, in addition to proving M’s long-standing platitude, “Music makes the people come together.”
In point of fact, her craving for a sense of unity among humankind is so intense that it manifests into her insisting, “I will be gay if the gay are burned/I’ll be Africa if Africa is shot down/I will be poor if the poor are humiliated/I’ll be a child if the children are exploited.” This desire to absorb all the ills and discriminations into herself is yet another enduring motif of her career (even going as far back as 1986’s maudlin “Love Makes the World Go Round”). While some would criticize Madonna for “sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong” or “speaking on that which she doesn’t understand,” is it not the job of the artist to paint a portrait of existence? To raise awareness among the otherwise oblivious? And yet, while Madonna claims, “I know what I am and I know what I’m not,” it is precisely because she has defied all the conventions that might have dictated she shouldn’t still be standing that asserts she has ignored the “limits” of “who she is.” That woman being just as much of an amalgam as the Madame X persona and record itself.
One such example of the hodgepodge of influences orbiting the psyche that generates many personae is “Crave,” a yearning ode to unfulfilled longing that stands effortlessly with the likes of “Take A Bow” and “Frozen.” And just as yearning is familiar territory to Madonna, so, too, is the persona of the woman scorned, as is the case on “Crazy,” produced by Mike Dean and Jason Erigan. Opening with a moody accordion, Madonna picks up where “Unapologetic Bitch” left off on 2015’s Rebel Heart. And, as was also the case on Rebel Heart, M has no problem reusing past lyrics (hear: “Holy Water,” “Veni Vedi Vici”) as she bemoans, “I bend my knees for you like a prayer.” What’s more, the leap Madonna has taken in her views of love can be sharply noted when comparing “Crazy” to 1985’s “Crazy For You.” Where once a more youthful Madonna had the ability to romanticize the folly of intense love, she now knows better than to let a man (or boy) drive her crazy, asserting, “But if you think I’ve been foolish and you only fooled me once/I guess it’s shame on you.”
Succeeded by the even more uptempo “Come Alive” (for with one’s jilting comes empowerment), Madonna declares, “Mouth closed/I don’t want your opinion/Who you talkin’ to?/Stand out, no I don’t wanna blend in/Why you want me to?” It is the type of sentiment one can imagine a teenaged M feeling toward her father, the forever catalyst behind her rebellion. Whereas her mother, who died when she was five, is the forever catalyst behind her search. It is this reflection upon her “gypsy blood” (as she phrases it in “I Don’t Search I Find”) and wandering spirit that creeps into the lyrics of “Extreme Occident,” on which she ruminates, “I came from the Midwest, then I went to the far East [meaning New York, not Asia]/I tried to discover my own identity/I guess I’m lost.” Switching from that rueful tone again in the middle of the song in favor of catering to more tribal, fast-paced beats, Madonna then backtracks, “I wasn’t lost, believe me/I was right, and I’ve got the right to choose my own life/Life is a circle” (a feeling also expressed on 2003’s “Easy Ride”). The circle of Madonna’s life has, of course, always taken her back to dance, hence the dance floor-ready “Faz Gostoso” featuring Anitta—a classic example of Madonna’s ability to repurpose a craze for her own ends, with the original version being derived from Portuguese (by way of Brazil) singer Blaya’s 2018 hit single of the same name.
Teaming with Maluma again (she also joins him on his own album) for the tongue-in-cheek “Bitch I’m Loca,” (a natural foil to the implications of being Madonna on “Bitch I’m Madonna), M showcases for the umpteenth time on the album just how improved her mastery of Spanish (and Portuguese) has become. Almost as her own added biting of the thumb at Trump. As the shortest track on Madame X, it has an inherently more puckish, innuendo-laden feel—particularly when Madonna and Maluma recreate the Dick Tracy/Breathless Mahoney repartee with, “Where do you want me to put this?” To which Madonna lasciviously suggests, “Um…you can put it inside.”
With “Deeper and Deeper” meets “Rescue Me” qualities, the (once again) disco-tinged “I Don’t Search I Find” is a sensual ode to the revelation of getting “finally enough love.” That Madonna’s entire existence has been one endless quest for the love she lost when her mother died speaks to this hunger for adulation on a global scale. Insisting, “I found love,” it’s unclear if that love was found in the form of a person or place (namely, Lisbon). “We live between life and death, waiting to move on/And in the end, we accept it,” Madonna states in her “Rescue Me” voice. It is the closest she’s ever come to addressing her mortality, which, of course, none of her fans want to lend credence to. It is perhaps also because of having a sense of getting closer to the end that Madonna has been liberated in singing candidly about what she wants to on Madame X.
As the deluxe version of the record draws to a close, “Looking For Mercy” (undoubtedly a nod to her daughter of the same name) continues to draw its themes from Madonna’s innate religious background as she describes, “Every night before I close my eyes/I say a little prayer that you’ll have mercy on me/Please, dear God, to live inside the divine…teach me how to forgive myself, outlive this hell.”
It is a many-layered hell in the case of Madonna, one in which she’s perpetually damned to be condemned. But it is with the strength conveyed on “I Rise” that evidences there has never been a person more well-suited to the tribulations of being an icon, deified one day and burnt in effigy the next. So you can appreciate why Joan of Arc is one of her great heroines. Yet she has plenty of love for those fellow musicians who have recently fallen, as displayed on “Funana” a bonus track only available on the physical iteration of the record. As she talks of wanting to dance, she reminds, “We need Aretha and George Michael/We need Bowie, we need 2Pac/And Avicii and Mac Miller/Freddie Mercury, Prince Rogers Nelson.” Mac Miller’s a bit of a stretch, but one supposes she had to sub out Michael Jackson with somebody. “Back That Up to the Beat” is a resuscitated cut from the Hard Candy era that’s noticeably drenched with Pharrell’s producer stylings. To close the mac daddy of “deluxe versions” is “Ciao Bella,” a wistful and ambient track that once more explores the inherent gypsy inside of Madonna as she demands, “Have you ever been to the land where you can find yourself?/Have you ever been to a place where you can rest yourself?” Complemented by the “Isaac”-like vocals of up and coming Portuguese (by way of Cape Verde) singer Dino D’Santiago, Madonna reconciles, “Sometimes I despair/Sometimes I have hope/Sometimes I don’t know/Sometimes I feel happy.” It is this gamut of emotions that very overtly comprises the potpourri of sounds and sentiments on Madame X.
Although some will not “get” the record and would prefer that she “just stop,” the response to that can be found on the non-deluxe version of the album’s cover artwork, a Frida Kahlo-esque (another heroine that has been instrumental to inspiring Madonna throughout her career) image of a dark-haired M is heightened by the sewn-on looking font of MADAME X, placed very deliberately over her mouth. More than just an allusion to the Catholic practice of handling a corpse (a scene ominously recreated in the David Fincher-directed video for Madonna’s 1989 single, “Oh Father”), it is a testament to Madonna’s refusal to keep quiet, when that is all anyone has ever wanted her to do, starting from the age when no one would talk about her mother’s death with frankness. For it’s true, the more people try to ignore or silence a person, the more they’re likely to bust out of those stitches, Billy Butcherson-style.
