Ray of Light, Part 4: Tracks 9-13

Welcome to the fourth installment of my Madonna series! For Part 1: An Introduction, click here. For Part 2: Tracks 1-4, click here. For Part 3: Tracks 5-8, click here.

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Madonna even felt comfortable enough with her new knowledge that she managed to call out others in a state of denial in “Frozen.” “You only see what your eyes want to see,” she sings at the beginning of the song. Another lyric, “Give yourself to me; / you hold the key,” is a throwback to “Open Your Heart” (True Blue), which finds Madonna saying that “I hold the lock and you hold the key.” This exhortation to be a more receptive person is, in fact, a common theme in Madonna’s music, from “Stay” (Like a Virgin) to “I’d Rather Be YourLover” (Bedtime Stories) before Ray of Light and from “Get Together” (Confessions on a Dance Floor) to “Masterpiece” (MDNA) afterward. It is this more recent track that is easiest to connect with “Frozen,” when Madonna laments the pain that comes with “be[ing] in love with a masterpiece” who is the “look, but please don’t touch me-type,” which lines up with her declaration of frustration with a partner who is “frozen when your heart’s not open.”

Heartbreak, in fact, abounds on Ray of Light. After “Frozen” comes “The Power of Good-Bye,” an end-of-relationship anthem that finds Madonna declaring her freedom from another lover who is distant and closed off. She absorbs lessons from this decision, noting that “Freedom comes when you learn to let go; / creation comes when you learn to say no.” But this is not exactly a revelation, since Madonna explored similar themes in “Till Death Do Us Part” (Like a Prayer) nine years earlier. In that song, she realizes that her husband will not change, which is the catalyst for her leaving the relationship and letting go as she would again in “The Power of Good-Bye.” Sadly, this is a pattern for the singer, who would come to similar conclusions in “Miles Away” (Hard Candy) after another decade passed: “I can’t pretend to be someone else,” she insists, and then continues on to say that “When no one’s around and I have you here, / I begin to see the picture--it becomes so clear.” Even the affluent among us must endure life lessons, if these examples are any indication.

There is a moment on Ray of Light where Madonna achieves clarity, however, after the tumult of “Frozen” and “The Power of Good-Bye.” In “To Have and Not to Hold,” she comes to the conclusion that she is responsible for her troubles: “Like a moth to a flame, / only I am to blame” since she “go[es] straight to you.” But that does not mean she has let go of her frustrations. Rather, she spends most of the song lamenting the situation. Similar tactics were used on Erotica, both in “Waiting” and “Words.” In “Words,” she sings, “I don’t wanna hear your words; / they always attack,” hurting her the same way the paramour of “To Have” has eyes that “go right through.” Moreover, she opens “Waiting” with the very sentiment that permeates “To Have” by saying, “Well, I know from experience that if you have to ask for something more than once or twice, it wasn’t yours in the first place,” which declaration is echoed in the chorus of “To Have,’ where she sings, “I’ve been told / you’re to have, not to hold.”

Later, Madonna would revisit this theme in her disco-drenched tune “Hung Up” (Confessions on a Dance Floor), where she insists that she “can’t keep waiting for you; / I know that you’re still hesitating.” But a more powerful connection to “To Have” is found in “X-StaticProcess” (American Life). “Process” hinges on the singer’s frustration with an aloof, too-perfect Other, who makes her feel that “I’m not myself and I don’t know how.” This recalls her contention in “To Have” that no one, including herself, will be able to “break my fall.”

There is a brief respite from the sadness on the back end of Ray of Light, delivered in the form of “Little Star,” an ode to the infant Lourdes. A glittery, lightweight tune that is no less heartfelt for its sheen, “Little Star” immediately brings to mind “Cherish” (Like a Prayer). While that earlier tune focuses on romance, it also addresses the importance of love with the line “Cherish is the word I use to remind me of your love,” while Madonna instructs Lourdes to “never forget where you come from: from love” in “Little Star.” And although “Little Star” is more of a lullaby, it still has an influence on “Easy Ride” (American Life), a song about what Madonna wants for herself and her offspring: to “breathe the air and feel the sun on my children’s face.”

After “Little Star,” though, we realize why Madonna is so adamant about her daughter knowing that she is safe, beyond the obvious fact of maternal love. The final track on Ray of Light is, it turns out, a meditation on the early death of Madonna’s own mother. “Mer Girl” therefore negates the warm, fuzzy feeling the listener gets from “Little Star.” But Madonna had explored this territory earlier in her career, notably in “Promise to Try” (Like a Prayer). “Can’t kiss her goodbye,” she sings at the end of the song, “but I promise to try.” In “Mer Girl,” however, she admits that “I’m still running today.” And, like many people do with their childhood traumas, Madonna continued trying to process this. “Mother and Father” (American Life) was her next attempt, when she pulled together pieces of “Oh Father” (Like a Prayer), “Promise to Try,” and “Mer Girl” to create a fuller picture of what she had experienced, admitting that she was “a victim of a kind of rage,” which goes a long way toward explaining the images of decay and fear that crop up in “Mer Girl.” The track, however, is a fitting close to an album that starts with an examination of Madonna’s external life and then moves inward to explore her personal demons. This is her attempt at fulfilling a prophecy she made in an interview with Maureen Orth in 1992: “I will never be hurt again, I will be in charge of my life, in charge of my destiny. I will make things work. I will not feel this pain in my heart.”

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For Part 5: The Conclusion, come back on Thursday!

Ray of Light, Part 3: Tracks 5-8

Welcome to the third installment of my Madonna series! For Part 1: An Introduction, click here. For Part 2: Tracks 1-4, click here.

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“Skin” is the sort of overdramatic love song that has the power to both entrance and alarm the listener, and perhaps especially the subject of the track, whoever he or she may be. Sonically, it is a descendant of “Bedtime Story” (Bedtime Stories). Both songs share an ethereal quality, largely because of their electronic basis. Years later, when Madonna recorded “Nobody Knows Me” (American Life), she would fuse “Bedtime Story” with “Skin” and punch it up a bit; moreover, she would take the same theme from “Skin”--the idea that there is one person who can solve her problems, either by knowing her “like you know me” in “Nobody Knows Me” or by saving her through the request that the person “kiss me; I’m dying” in “Skin.”

Of course, the line “Put your hand on my skin” can be traced back to “Erotica” (Erotica), wherein Madonna sings, “Put your hands all over my body.” But in this case, it seems that the singer is asking for deliverance from something, thereby subverting the expectation set up in “Erotica”--that she is constantly asking for pleasure. This slight desperation shows up again in “Forbidden Love [2]” (Confessions on a Dance Floor), when we hear Madonna wondering, “how we supposed to be together?” She also admits that “Just one look from your eye was like a certain kind of torture,” further echoing her sentiment from “Skin” that “you leave me wanting more.”

Luckily, not all of Madonna’s ideas about love involve desolation, as evidenced by one of the strongest love songs in her repertoire: “Nothing Really Matters,” ostensibly written about her daughter. Like the lines “They hold the keys to your heart and your soul. / Don’t forget that your family is gold” and “I wouldn’t change it for another chance” from “Keep It Together” (Like a Prayer) before it, Madonna rejoices in celebrating her family in “Nothing Really Matters.” She even matches the slight melancholy of that earlier track in the long notes and muted undertones. More importantly, Madonna brings her professional family into the fold here: this is the only track on Ray of Light employing backup singers, and the job is executed by Donna De Lory and Niki Harris, longtime collaborators and friends of Madonna’s.

The obvious legacy of “Nothing Really Matters” is “Intervention” (American Life), another song about her children. The chorus lyric “And I know that love will change us forever” hearkens back to the theme of “Nothing Really Matters,” which is the transformative power of love. But if one listens to “Nothing Really Matters” as a romantic love song instead of one of familial love, there is another strong, lasting result: the “You Thrill Me” mix of “Erotica” used on Madonna’s Confessions Tour in 2006. This version of the song takes its musical cues from “Nothing Really Matters” rather than “Erotica” and replaces some of the lyrics with those from the fan-beloved “You Thrill Me,” an early demo of “Erotica.” This results in a kinder, gentler “Erotica,” a dance jam heavily influenced by the less-combative side of Madonna that seems to have been borne of her motherhood.

Madonna’s maternity had wider implications, as well. A new sense of spirituality began to permeate her work with Ray of Light. In an interview with Barry Walters, she said, “My spiritual journey is to be open to everything. Pay attention to what makes sense, be absorbed.” For the most part, she was paying attention to Lourdes, if the lyric “Child fits mother, so hold your baby tight” is any indication. At the same time, Madonna was no stranger to spirituality. One of her biggest hits, after all, was 1989’s “Like a Prayer” (Like a Prayer), which informed “Sky Fits Heaven” with its references to flying and, of course, heaven. Both of these prophetic songs also contributed to her later tune “Isaac” (Confessions on a Dance Floor). The instructive nature of “Sky Fits Heaven,” in particular, lent itself well to “Isaac,” wherein the singer discusses “Staring up into the heavens” and learning lessons.

It is also important to pair “Sky Fits Heaven” with its follow-up, “Shanti/Ashtangi.” The lyrics of “Shanti” are Sanskrit, precluding an immediate understanding of the song, but a translation is included in the liner notes to Ray of Light, indicating that Madonna is singing about “worshipping the gurus’ lotus feet,” something connected to the prophet mentioned in “Sky Fits Heaven.” The non-Western, boisterous aural nature of “Shanti/Ashtangi” recalls “Act of Contrition” (Like a Prayer), a track that bends some clips from “Like a Prayer” and acts as an unexpected counterweight to that tune, much like “Shanti” contrasts with “Sky Fits Heaven.” Naturally, Madonna continues to explore religious themes in her music, including in “I’m a Sinner” (MDNA), which exults in wrongdoing the way the English lyrics of “Shanti” extoll the virtues of awakening.

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For Part 4: Tracks 9-13, come back next Tuesday!

For Part 5: The Conclusion, come back next Thursday!

Ray of Light, Part 2: Tracks 1-4

Welcome to the second installment of my Madonna series! For Part 1: An Introduction, click here.

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The subversion is evident from the start: in “Drowned World/Substitute for Love,” Madonna mentions the trappings of stardom, including “trinkets I can buy,” a “heart to steal,” and so on, all of which prove hollow after a time. She also manages to criticize herself for coveting them and buying into the illusion. She would later refer back to this song in “American Life” (American Life), taking the criticism to a more militant and universal level. Oddly, she would also backslide after more than a decade, proudly listing acquisitions in “I Don’t Give A” while simultaneously decrying monetary greed in “Love Spent” (both tracks, MDNA). 

On a purely confessional level, there are also similarities between “Drowned World” and one of Madonna’s most enduring tunes, “Live to Tell” (True Blue); in a way, it even seems that the singer may finally be revealing the secret she mentioned in that song. Later, she would bring herself to a more relatable level when she released “What It Feels Like for a Girl” (Music), substituting personal anecdotes like “I suffered fools so gladly” with “Hurt that’s not supposed to show” and “Could you be a little weak?” To a lesser extent, “Drowned World” also hearkens back to “Survival” (Bedtime Stories), wherein Madonna admits that she has been “up and down and all around,” similar to the way she discusses “travel[ing] around the world, looking for a home” in “Drowned World.”

“Swim” expands Madonna’s scope a bit and finds her looking outward, rather than inward, and commenting on the events she sees happening in the larger population. Here she advocates that the listener “Let the water wash over you, / wash it all over you […] / so that we can begin again, / wash away all our sin,” which sentiment has its roots in “Love Makes the World Go Round” (True Blue), where Madonna instructs the audience to “take a stand! / Reach out for someone’s hand.”  The purifying acts she describes may be delivered in different ways--“Love Makes the World Go Round” in a sunny fashion, “Swim” in a more frustrated one--but they are decidedly linked. Later, Madonna would revisit this theme in “4 Minutes” (Hard Candy), her duet with Justin Timberlake. In this case, music is the redemptive force, as one might expect it to be where a singer is concerned. The more cutting remarks--such as those about “children killing children”--heard in “Swim” would also be replicated in another environment when Madonna released “Hollywood” (American Life) as a single, mocking society’s tendency to be “bored with the concept of right and wrong.” All of this is in line with Madonna’s declaration in the documentary Truth or Dare that she is “interested in […] pushing people’s buttons and being provocative and being political.”

Although Madonna would not use a folk-inspired structure on an album until American Life, her political nature on “Swim,” combined with her decision to do a partial cover of Curtiss Maldoon’s folksy “Sepheryn,” which she turned into “Ray of Light,” set her on the path. Rather than stick to the acoustic guitar-based, tempo-switching tendencies of “Sepheryn,” though, Madonna chose to add her own beats and lyrics, bringing the ’60s tune up to date. In order to do this, she referred back to some of her earlier dance hits. For example, the central predicament of “Where’s the Party” (True Blue), which is that Madonna wants to “free [her] soul” and “lose control,” went unsolved until “Ray of Light,” when she finally feels that she “just got home.” She was then able to sustain this sense of belonging through her next several albums, culminating with another dance anthem, “Heartbeat” (Hard Candy), which extols the virtues of being on the floor at the club.

It is also worth noting that “Swim” and “Ray of Light” are both connected to Madonna’s early, enduring hit “Holiday” (Madonna). The earlier track makes a strong case for “[taking] just one day out of life” to recharge and re-center ourselves as well as “put[ting] your troubles down” and, consequently, ties itself to the themes of renewal on Ray of Light. Unlike “Swim,” however, the raucous joyfulness of “Ray of Light” can be heard later in “Celebration” (Celebration), which essentially serves as a sequel to “Holiday.”

Although “Candy Perfume Girl” is not as exuberant as “Ray of Light,” it too can be traced to other songs. First and foremost, it shares DNA with “Burning Up” (Madonna). Each has a rock-influenced sound, featuring electric guitars in addition to synthesizers. Later on, Madonna would refer back to this usage in “Give Me All Your Luvin’” (MDNA), if in a peppier fashion. But, true to the spirit of Ray of Light, no matter the antecedent or descendant, “Candy Perfume Girl” is less accessible than Madonna’s other love songs. The lyrical inheritance shows most clearly in “Impressive Instant” (Music), with lines like “I’m in a trance” calling to mind Madonna’s mention of “The sacred nerve is magic poison” in “Candy Perfume Girl.” Additionally, previous lyrical connections can be made with “Sanctuary” (Bedtime Stories), with its dreamy imagery, references to water, and a near-obsessive subtext. Even so, “Candy Perfume Girl” is a less disturbing song than “Sanctuary,” which also has a bearing on the track following “Candy Perfume Girl.”

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For Part 3: Tracks 5-8, come back on Friday!

For Part 4: Tracks 9-13, come back next Tuesday!

For Part 5: The Conclusion, come back next Thursday!

Ray of Light, Part 1: An Introduction

As I mentioned last week, I'll be sharing the text of a paper I presented at a popular culture conference over the weekend. Since it's too long to give in a single post, I'll spread it out across the next two weeks. Enjoy this first installment, and come back to read the rest!

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Something weird happened to Madonna in the ’90s.

After the creative and commercial success of Like a Prayer in 1989 and her first greatest hits compilation, The Immaculate Collection, in 1990, Ms. Ciccone chose to open an envelope she’d been pushing since the inception of her career. The flesh bomb that resulted was the one-two punch of Erotica, her 1992 album, and Sex, a limited-edition book that came packaged in a shiny wrapper, not unlike a condom. This is the same woman who, during an interview with David Letterman in 1994, asked him, “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?” and then prodded him to smell the pair of panties she’d given him. Although she did rein it in with the soft-core Bedtime Stories in 1994, the masturbatory video for “Take a Bow,” while shot in artful sepia, showed she had no intention of backing down completely.

But then came the fallow period. Aside from her appearance in Evita in 1996, the one tangible thing Madonna produced between 1994 and 1998 was the old/new compilation Something to Remember in 1995, only three tracks of which were fresh. Part of this is thanks to the arrival of her first child, Lourdes, in late 1996. Of course she took time to be a new mother, but it was out of character for a woman who, traditionally, had been full-steam ahead to disappear for such a stretch. Little did the world know what she had in store. 

There was nothing particularly subversive about Madonna until Ray of Light. In order to be subversive, one must work within the confines of his or her medium in a sly, smart way: a wink here, a nod there, an inversion from time to time. The closest she got pre-1998 was in “Deeper and Deeper” (Erotica) when she pulled a line from “Vogue” (I’m Breathless) to highlight the rest of the song. Otherwise, she was, for the most part, a double-middle-finger girl, shoving her sexuality and outrageousness in her audience’s face. In fact, if not for a handful of key tracks in the early- and mid-1990s--“Rain” (Erotica) and “I’ll Remember” (With Honors) chief among them--she may have ceased to be radio- and video-viable. After all, this is the woman who cut a track called “Where Life Begins” (Erotica), a five-and-a-half-minute ode to cunnilingus.

When Ray of Light dropped in 1998, however, listeners heard more of what had been hinted at in select cuts from Like a Prayer, Erotica, and Bedtime Stories: introspection and reflection. Ray of Light was both revolutionary and revelatory, showcasing a side of Madonna the public had rarely seen. In these thirteen tracks, Madonna reinvented herself yet again, this time as a serious singer with concerns both worldly and personal, spiritual and mental. This album would become the lynchpin of her career, a gateway between her early years and her later output.

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For Part 2: Tracks 1-4, come back on Wednesday!

For Part 3: Tracks 5-8, come back on Friday!

For Part 4: Tracks 9-13, come back next Tuesday!

For Part 5: The Conclusion, come back next Thursday!

Everybody Talk About Pop Culture

Sometimes, I get to do really fun things.

This weekend is one of those times. I'm off to present a paper at a conference, and this will be my third time doing so. The people involved in this extravaganza are basically the best: academic nerds and geeks who, like me, find endless things to say about popular culture, to the point where all our friends are sick of hearing it. (Not coincidentally, that's why we have to gather ourselves together once a year--to give those near and dear to us a bit of a respite.) This year, I'm "gonna have a celebration," as it were, and talk about the Queen of Pop herself, her Madgesty: Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone.

That's right, kids. It's "all Madonna, all the time," as they would say on KUNT (and for the record, I JUST NOW figured out that's what the call letters are; I used to think the DJ said, "KUMD").

My basic premise is this: Ray of Light was--and remains--the lynchpin of Madonna's career, the central hub of her musical output. Like the stylized sun imprinted on the disc itself, the 13 tracks of her seventh studio album (out of 12 so far) serve as spokes connecting the past with the future. From the opening line to the final note, a listener (i.e., me) can make arguments to support this thesis.

When I return from said conference, I'll be sharing my paper in its entirety with you over the course of two weeks (so as to break it up into bloggable chunks) and with the added bonus of links to a few of the songs and articles I cite. It's sort of my way of "dress[ing] you up in my love" of Madonna's music. I hope y'all are ready, because it can get a little intense when I get into that groove. 

Okay, I'm done with the jokes, if only because I've learned, through a great deal of recent personal experience with Madonna's '80s oeuvre, that it's all fun and games until everything starts to sound like synth keyboards.  Tune in starting on Monday for the full Ray of Light treatment!

-Cate-