For generations, Madonna's enduring success has mystified countless feminists and southern baptist Christians alike. Donning garments that were unquestionably pilfered from a now redundant Cyndi Lauper, and rosary beads fitted in questionable bodily locations, Madonna skyrocketed to stardom faster than she dropped her knickers for a randomer in the back of a van. Not bad for a homely woman who's dancing skills are mediocre at best, coupled with a strained minnie-mouse meets your local hooker vocal style, and acting abilities so bad that one wonders why her throat hasn't been slashed by any self-respecting director stupid enough to feature Madge (those in the know call her Madge. Just don't call her that to her face.) in one of his doubtlessly flopped films. And to top it all off, there is plenty of narcissism present here when it really shouldn't be. It all sounds like a nightmarish formula for failure. Yet despite being so limited and malignant, Madonna lives on as one of the most significant and influential pop icons in existence.
At the dawn of her career, the world was divided in two by Madonna. She was laughed and scoffed at as transient fad by the snobby and self-righteous, her mix of immaculately crafted pop and whiny vocals perplexed critics, while her shameless grinding and sadomasochistic tendencies endeared her to many gay men and women suffering from low self-esteem. Like it or lump it, she was as omnipresent as the God's she challenged.
Madonna, the singer-songwriter's debut album, is where it all began. In the music video for Lucky Star, Madge dovetails Lauper's funky look with bad dancing abilities while her self-conscious gay brother struggles to imitate her (who is also struggling). It's an omen. It's a portent. The video pretty much forecasts a sometimes disgusting, sometimes horrifying career that will darken the world for another thirty decades.
Thank goodness the darkness is limited to image and persona, and not the music itself, which all due respect is of the finest production. From beginning to end, Madonna is a fine treat for the ears. As surprising as it sounds, the lucky (can't stress this adjective enough) star has a partial credit in making the experience worthwhile. The Majority of the album is written by your Madgesty herself, and is an accurate reflection of herself at that point in time; banal and simplistic, but punky enough to attract attention and slutty enough to raise eyebrows.
Two key factors for the gargantuan success of this album and (some of the) ones that followed were the superb production, and Madonna's chameleon image, carefully built and calculated to merge with the accompanying music and current fads. Both were arguably as important as each other. Although the likes of Koda Kumi, Katy Perry and countless others tells us that talent, looks and even good music are not necessary for success in the music industry, Madonna at least contributed a grand host of quality music to the world in her seemingly eternal lifetime.
Lucky Star pulls you in slowly with its wondrous eighties synth heaven. An electric guitar eventually joins in as it gets more uptempo and funky in a melody that, contrary to her bubblegum hits from the Like A Virgin album, never seems to get tired. The following track, Borderline, is my least favourite track…a whiny song featuring Madonna unconvincingly pining over some guy. The girly, camp feel of this song is an exception on this particular album. Don't worry, though. It returns more than once in her monstrous career, albeit with a tacky innuendo or two added to the mix. It isn't a bad song. It's a great song…but the other seven songs on the album are just better. On a side-note, certain people have even taken to using Borderline as a username…my, my. No comment. *shakes head*
Burning Up is typical Madonna, provocative and aggressive, with violent beats that flirt with pornographic, sexual lyrics, and an unrelenting stamina especially present in a woman making her debut. Followed by this is I Know It, another piece of pop bliss that will rack up your Madonna play count. Holiday has become not just a Madonna staple, but a staple for pop music, and does pretty good job representing the singer's former glory as a dance/pop queen.
Moving on to the rear end of the album, we have Think of Me, another finely crafted song. The lyrics aren't going to make you contemplate the meaning of life, but that's not the intention. Simple lyrics and catchy beats you can dance to are the aims of the album, and it's more than successful in achieving this. Physical Attraction returns to Madonna's iconic raunchiness, which is more than welcome in the presence of music THIS good. Unbelievably catchy, and despite being recorder in the eighties, the sound isn't too dated to the point of being inaccessible. The album closes with Everybody, with its catchy hooks slowing down only for the oddly tantalising bridge. A fine finish.
The music videos are as raw and daring as the music. Sure, the wannabe actress' youthful and arrogant persona of the early eighties may annoy some, but for the sane, it's a welcome contrast to the pretentious and increasingly desperate creature that emerged in the nineties and noughties. This album represents Madonna at her rawest, musically. Pop rarely gets better than this.
It's no wonder half this album was included on Madonna's latest greatest hits CD, Celebration. Despite the endless shortcomings, you gotta pay the Queen due respect for her debut effort. For this album, Madonna, we forgive you. Or not.
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