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Tag: Madonna Ray of Light

  • Madonna’s Interview for On Purpose with Jay Shetty: A Reminder That She Considers Herself the Queen of Kabbalah Before the Queen of Pop

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    If Madonna has been consistent about one thing since 1996 (though, to outsiders, it’s more like 1998, when Ray of Light came out), it’s her commitment and devotion to Kabbalah. Through all the “reinventions” and various physical “adjustments,” she has continued to incorporate the “teachings” into the majority of her work. Especially her music. And, of course, in her interviews. In her latest, the one billed as not only her “first podcast interview,” but also her “first interview in nine years” (which, of course, doesn’t really track when taking into account all the promotion she did for Madame X six years ago in 2019), she continues to do the same. And yes, one can understand why Madonna being on a podcast is momentous, considering such things are a bit too “low-budget,” so to speak, for her usual tastes. At the same time, one of Madonna’s greatest skills as an entertainer has always been to find a way to disseminate her “highfalutin” ideas while still managing to appeal to the “lowest common denominator” (see: “Vogue”).

    This time around, Madonna is attempting to once again get people on board with Kabbalah, just as she was able to with the majority of celebrities in the early 2000s (e.g., Britney Spears and Demi Moore). Indeed, whereas many who glommed onto the “Kabbalah Centre trend,” complete with the “red bracelets” a.k.a. scarlet thread intended to ward off the evil eye (which, to be fair, many celebrities do have a hard time avoiding), left it behind by the end of the 00s, Madonna never abandoned it, diving in deeper as everyone else seemed to gradually pull away.

    Granted, the 00s saw one of the pinnacles of Madonna’s support for the philosophy cemented in the form of her 2005 documentary, I’m Going to Tell You a Secret, directed by one of her go-tos for music videos (including “Ray of Light”), Jonas Åkerlund. It is in this documentary that a large bulk of what Madonna mentions is also conveyed to Shetty during his On Purpose with Jay Shetty podcast. This includes the notion of how forgiving someone who “fucked you over” is one of the most revolutionary teachings of the Zohar, “a kind of decoding of the Torah or the Old Testament.” In fact, it’s one of the elements of Kabbalah that Madonna most underscores whenever she talks about it, this time around using her recently deceased brother, Christopher Ciccone, as an example of someone who fucked her over (see: his “tell-all” memoir, Life with My Sister Madonna) and who she chose to forgive (though, conveniently, when he was already about to die).

    While other celebrities would settle for being paid by MasterClass to teach something, Madonna has opted to participate in a “pay what you can” operation, via Kabbalah.com, called “The Mystical Studies of the Zohar with Madonna and Eitan Yardeni.” It was the latter who also featured prominently in the abovementioned I’m Going to Tell You a Secret, and shows up once again toward the second half of the podcast. This further cementing the idea that he is Madonna’s proverbial guru.

    During the trailer for the class, it’s only fitting that a deep cut, “Has to Be,” from the Ray of Light album should play as Madonna talks about her first notable experience with “the muse” or “manifestation,” as they’re calling it. Once again trotting out the first time she ever wrote a song—while living in, only too appropriately, an abandoned synagogue—Madonna recalls how, afterward, she kept wondering, “Where did that come from?” Trying to tell viewers that she never had any intention of becoming a singer, and yet, somehow, the music and lyrics for her first song, “Tell the Truth,” just “poured out” of her, so to speak. Though, to tell the truth, they were lyrics partially extrapolated from her journal.

    What’s more, anyone who knows the story of pre-fame Madonna is aware that she did have the ambition to be a singer once she realized it meant she would be front and center, rather than any form of “backup,” as would have been the case if she had continued pursuing the original avenue of being a dancer or, after that, the drummer in a band called The Breakfast Club. A band that she finagled her way into as a result of her relationship with Dan Gilroy, who had started the group with his brother, Ed, a man far less, let’s say, “charmed” by Madonna than Dan. Especially as time wore on and Madonna made it more than fairly apparent she wanted to take over as The Breakfast Club’s lead singer (in the end, she went off and started her own band called Emmy and the Emmys).

    Alas, these are “uglier” details on Madonna’s road to fame that she would prefer to leave out of her “Mystical Studies of the Zohar” class, instead presenting her rise to prominence as more of an example of the divine rather than what Norman Mailer once called an example of her having the “cast-iron balls of the paisans in generations before her.” To that point, Madonna does bring up being Italian (because Lady Gaga isn’t the only umpteenth-generation pop star who can make that claim) in the interview with Shetty, citing it as one of the reasons she always had difficulty remaining calm (in addition to being a Leo). Therefore, yet another one of the reasons why Kabbalah has been so helpful to her in that it’s effectively “stamped out” the inherent choleric nature of being una donna italiana. And yet, what Madonna still can’t stamp out is the Catholicism that has remained far more inherent to her work than Kabbalah. Even now.

    Regardless, Madonna is all about incorporating a mélange of the different things she unearths in her studies as a student of life. So it is that Catholicism and Kabbalah have intertwined for her in many ways. Even in I’m Going to Tell You a Secret, during which Madonna is at her most markedly Kabbalah-centric on record (until the Jay Shetty interview came along), not only “subliminally” incorporating images and chants related to Jewish mysticism, but also offering such pearls of wisdom as, “If you want to read things literally, you read the Old Testament and if you want to understand the hidden meanings of the Torah, you read the Zohar.” Considering she was studying the Zohar at that point in time, in 2004 (when the Re-Invention Tour was in full swing), it is fair to say she could (and is now going to) effectively teach a class on the subject.

    Indeed, her entire purpose in coming on Shetty’s podcast was to reemphasize that she sees her purpose in life as being to share the wisdom she’s gleaned, in addition to her understanding of “the light” (as she keeps calling it, and also did in I’m Going to Tell You a Secret). This also being how she, at times, refers to God. Or what “God” is. During some of the interspersed footage and images in the trailer for her Kabbalah Master Class, the same footage of a POV shot that makes it look as though one is staring at the sky above, shining a bright light (a.k.a. the sun) through the trees is repurposed from I’m Going to Tell You a Secret. Which, again, was Madonna’s original master class on the philosophy. It is also during the documentary that she mentions, long before this podcast, that Kabbalah has changed her for the better, made her an inherently less selfish person. A person who now asks, “What was I thinking before I was thinking?” (and yes, she mentions to Shetty that this is something she still says often in reference to who she was before discovering “the teachings”).

    In I’m Going to Tell You a Secret, even her own father, Silvio “Tony” Ciccone, weighs in on the shift that has been palpable in Madonna ever since she had her first child and “got into” Kabbalah at the same time. Interviewed after going to see her show in Chicago (the closest city to their native Michigan where the tour was stopping) with his wife, Joan (RIP), Tony noted, “What I saw of last night’s performance was a more positive outreaching of her to the public. Her concern for the world, for people—to me, that’s maturity.” The couple is also shown watching Madonna during her performance of “Mother and Father,” during which her Catholicness flares up by way of the screens that showcase Jesus and Mary behind her. Something Tony is only too happy to see, regardless of what it “means” from Madonna’s perspective or whether or not she’s trying to “say” something else with these images. For Tony, Jesus and Mary being displayed without Madonna doing something blasphemous with or to their images—as she might have in the past (and still does when one least expects it)—is all he needs to see.

    He also mentions that even he hasn’t been immune to Madonna trying to spread “her” Kabbalah gospel, remarking that she gave him a book, but that, “To me, there’s nothing in Kabbalah that’s not in scripture… In the end, you know, we all believe in one God. I think most people do.” Ah, would that such a pretty thought were true—otherwise, there might not be half as many wars.

    I’m Going to Tell You a Secret is also the first time Madonna really tried to make her art serve as a “Trojan horse” for Kabbalah, or rather, a “tool” for those watching, commenting at one point (namely, in the segment after Michael Moore is interviewed), “I’ve always thought that my job was to wake people up. But it’s not enough just to wake people up. You’ve got to wake people up and give them a direction. You’ve got to wake people up and give them tools about how to deal with life. You’ve got to wake people up and give them solutions. Otherwise they’re gonna fall back asleep again.”

    Perhaps Madonna has seen people falling asleep again too many times in the past decade since the Orange Creature became the president, hence her seemingly sudden decision to pursue a “project” that never would have been on anyone’s bingo card up until now: teaching Kabbalah master classes (though at least M continues to set herself apart by not being paid by MasterClass itself to teach something like “marketing and self-promotion in pop stardom”).

    In the trailer for said class, there’s all kinds of hilarity ensuing. Including, first and foremost, that Madonna’s boy toy of the moment, Akeem Morris, is randomly sitting there for no apparent reason other than to look pretty while Madonna offers sound bites such as, “It’s, like, everything happens for a reason” (a cliche that Cher Horowitz would surely deem “way existential”) and “I don’t wanna do a residency in Vegas” (this said in the section about “False Gods”). During each divided scene, there are captions that mention the eight lessons that will be covered (should you choose to sign up): “Study the Art of Manifestation,” “Study Freedom,” “Study Reincarnation,” “Study False Gods,” “Study Chasing After What Doesn’t Belong to You” (during which a scene of Madonna revealing her pursuits of a married man [Antonio Banderas?] provides a bit of zest), “Study Desire,” “Study Forgiveness” and “Study Love.” It is during “Study Forgiveness” that, as previously mentioned, Madonna wields her recently deceased brother as fodder for how she’s managed to forgive someone who did her wrong. And surely, Christopher would be as delighted about this as seeing Madonna allow their visit to their mother’s grave be filmed for Truth or Dare.

    In this and a few other regards, it’s not difficult to be cynical about what Madonna is once more attempting: to convince people that Kabbalah is “the way, the truth, the life (or, in this instance, the light)” (if one will pardon the Christian parlance). Having long ago gone from the “Material Girl” to the “Ethereal Girl,” as it has already been said. And while that might remain a hard pill for many to swallow, Madonna is at least trying to use her pop star abilities as a force of good, a force of positive change. Which is more than can be said for, say, Sabrina Carpenter, who’s still emulating the sexually-charged portion of Madonna’s career (and not even with half as much shock value). Give this new crop of pop stars a bit more time, however, and they, too, will be offering pay-what-you-can master classes on spirituality. Just another way in which Madonna has blazed a path for them all.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Caught Stealing: Darren Aronofsky Might Call It a “Love Letter” to New York, But It’s More Like a Requiem (Not for a Dream)

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    It’s been three years since Darren Aronofsky proceeded to break audiences’ hearts with The Whale (written by Samuel D. Hunter, and based on his 2012 play). In that time, of course, the world has only become a darker place. And so, with that in mind, perhaps there was a reason Aronofsky felt compelled to go “back in time” (that is, to “a simpler time”) via Charlie Huston’s screenplay adaptation of his own novel, Caught Stealing (released in 2004, ergo having a fresher perspective on the 90s after the decade had just ended). For yes, it appears that Aronofsky is actually at his best when directing someone else’s material (in other words, there aren’t many “fans,” per se, of Requiem for a Dream or mother!). Accordingly, Caught Stealing signals a marked tonal shift for Aronofsky.

    For, although the material is still quite, shall we say, heavy at times, Caught Stealing has “probably more jokes in the first ten minutes of this than in my entire body of work,” as Aronofsky told The Guardian. Plus, as a native New Yorker, Aronofsky has a certain kind of nostalgic slant to bring to the distinct period he’s depicting: late 90s on the Lower East Side. And, to immediately indicate this is “B911” (Before 9/11) epoch, a shot of the Twin Towers, in all of its romanticized glory, is proudly displayed at the beginning of the film. This being a seminal downtown view belying the seedy goings-on at a joint like Paul’s Bar (which is actually the Double Down Saloon on Avenue A, near the corner of Houston). The joint where Henry “Hank” Thompson (Austin Butler) makes his way in life as a bartender subjected to such jukebox picks of the day as Smash Mouth’s “Walkin’ on the Sun.” The type of bop (or is it the type of MMMBop, in this case?) that can now put the bar at risk thanks to Rudy Giuliani’s “quality of life” campaign that extended to outlawing dancing in bars without a cabaret license (and, of course, most bars weren’t trying to shell out for something like that). Yes, that’s right, Giuliani “Footloose’d” NYC bars starting in 1997—this being just one of many harbingers of doom that his mayorship heralded. Yet another portent of the unstoppable gentrification that Giuliani further aided in opening the floodgates for.

    To be sure, the late 90s was arguably the last time anyone can remember truly seeing some glimmer of what they call the “old” New York. This being why the fall (to put it mildly) of the Twin Towers in 2001 further demarcates a “before” and “after” period for the city and what it once used to “mean.” Thus, Aronofsky and Huston’s organic wielding of these types of details, like Hank telling customers to stop dancing (lest the bar get shut down and/or fined), lends further insight into this period. And it’s part of what makes Caught Stealing feel authentic to the time. 

    Indeed, this form of Giuliani shade-throwing was used even in the era when his “sweeping changes” (read: implementation of a police state) went into effect. One need look no further than the first season of Sex and the City for proof of that (with Miranda [Cynthia Nixon] being the most prone to insulting Giuliani). In fact, it could be said that the season one “look” (a.k.a. how it actually looked in New York at the time) of SATC served as a kind of “mood board” for cinematographer Matthew Libatique, another New Yorker on the crew who has been with Aronofsky since his 1998 debut, Pi. A film that, per The Guardian, “he says could almost be his parallel-universe first movie, given that it’s set in 1998, around the time he was shooting his actual first film on the same East Side streets” (back when Kim’s Video didn’t have to be added into the set design, because it was still there).

    Caught Stealing, instead, has a much greater sense of “levity,” even amidst all its darkness. That “dark aesthetic” of the city, however, is still there. And further aided by the fact that bartenders (and other assorted “shady” characters) live by night. But, more than anything, it seems that with this dark cinematography, Aronofsky aims to more than just subtly convey how much grittier the city used to be. And, as Caught Stealing makes quite clear, that grittiness was most palatable within the crime and corruption sector. With every “organization” from the Hasids (or Hasidim, if you prefer)—played by none other than Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio—to the Russian mob to the cops to Bad Bunny (playing the Russians’ “Puerto Rican associate,” Colorado) thrown into this blender of “antagonistic forces” who all suddenly have it out for Hank after his British, cantankerous punk rocker of a next-door neighbor, Russ (Matt Smith), leaves for London in a hurry. And sticks Hank with his equally surly cat in the process. (On a side note, viewers detecting some major overtones of Quentin Tarantino-meets-Guy Ritchie [the latter being an obvious acolyte of the former] stylings wouldn’t be incorrect in making that comparison.)  

    Needless to say, the greater sense of levity in this particular Aronofsky film is supported almost entirely by the presence of this cat named Bud (played by a Siberian forest cat named Tonic). From the start, Hank makes it known he “prefers dogs for a reason.” Luckily for him, Siberian forest cats are described as having a “dog-like” temperament. But it takes his girlfriend, Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), encouraging Bud’s stay for Hank to fully get on board with the unwanted task. As for Yvonne, a paramedic (hence, her and Hank’s work schedules being perfectly aligned), it’s obvious from the outset that, even apart from her profession, she has a thing for rescuing people.

    And no one is in more need of being saved from himself than Hank, who, much like Henry “Hank” Chinaski (a.k.a. Charles Bukowski), has an alcohol problem. Albeit one that stems from trying to outrun the demons of his past, which, at the time, seemed to foretell an impossibly bright future. Back then, when he was still in high school, Hank thought he would be a shoo-in to play for his favorite baseball team, the San Francisco Giants (because, as it should go without saying, the title Caught Stealing has a baseball meaning too). This very possibility marveled at as he drunkenly drove through some backwater roads of Stanislaus County while his friend and fellow ball player, Dale (D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai), rode shotgun, talking up this future before Hank swerved the car at the sight of a cow and wrapped the car around a pole, launching Dale through the windshield and killing him instantaneously. 

    Hank’s own fallout from the accident, apart from a guilty conscience, was injuring his knee so badly it was never going to be good enough for the major leagues. And so, what would a California boy running away from his problems and looking to forget about his past do but move to New York?—the antithesis of his home state on the other side of the country. The irony being, of course, that his beloved Giants moved from NYC to San Francisco (not unlike the Dodgers moving from Brooklyn to LA). In any case, Hank runs as far as he can from the scene of the accidental crime (/car crash) without leaving the country entirely—that will come later. In the meantime, he thinks he’s going about his business, living his life as “minimally” (read: with a disaffected “90s slacker chic” aura) as possible, only to have every heavyweight of every crime organization on his ass in the wake of Russ’ departure. 

    With no one else to harass/beat to a pulp for answers, Hank is left holding the bag. Or rather, the key. A key he finds in a decoy piece of shit in Bud’s litterbox (this after dealing with another human’s shit in his own toilet since, again, the Sex and the City [de facto, And Just Like That…] connections to Caught Stealing abound). Considering his discovery occurs after two scary Russians (always the Russians, n’est-ce pas?) land him in the hospital for two days, Hank is unsure what to do with the newfound item. Worse still, while at the hospital, doctors removed his kidney because the Russians fucked him up so bad that it ruptured. Which means that, now, alcohol—the one thing that was getting him through it all, holding everything together and making New York seem like the nonstop party it really isn’t—must be off the menu. Otherwise, it’s at his own health risk to imbibe. And certainly a risk to do so with same intensity he did before. 

    Alas, all that resolve, all those promises to Yvonne (and the cat, for that matter) that he has it in him to quit cold turkey, go out the window when he walks into Paul’s Bar to show his boss, the eponymous Paul (played by a man considered a “New York institution,” Griffin Dunne) the key. Walking into the bar as Madonna’s “Ray of Light” resounds through the space (because it was the song of ’98), it’s apparent that Hank is doomed to go down a rabbit hole. The kind that happens after he experiences the adage, “One drink is too many and a thousand never enough.” From the looks of it, as the night goes on, Hank does seem to have very well close to a thousand, getting up on the pool table to sing along with another prime tune of the day: Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch.” This moment amounting to his version of Kat Stratford (Julia Stiles) in 10 Things I Hate About You drunkenly dancing on the table at Bogey Lowenstein’s (Kyle Cease) party to Notorious B.I.G.’s “Hypnotize.” 

    Saddled with “picking him up” is Yvonne, who quickly loses her patience or sympathy for him when he starts drunkenly ranting about how everything in his life is garbage (by the way, yet another band that gets played on the soundtrack), and that he used to have it all. Everything ahead of him. So much promise, so much potential. The dramatic irony here is that the same can be said of New York, seeing it through the lens of the present as compared with the past. This late 90s past, so evocatively shown in Caught Stealing. 

    Of course, there are literally millions who will swear up and down that the New York of the present remains just as viable, as “vibrant.” More so than ever, they’ll insist. Take, for instance, when Taffy Brodesser-Akner told Vulture, in an article discussing the issues of filming Fleischman Is in Trouble in a manner that would make it look like 2016, “The New York you live in now is the best version of New York. You have to keep out the noise from people like me lest you come to think you missed the whole thing by arriving so late—either by being born or moving here more recently than the person you’re talking to.” But no, she’s wrong…and so are all the others who try to maintain their “positive outlook” (a.k.a. daily application of denial) about “the greatest city in the world.” The New York you live in now is patently not the best version at all. 

    And, perhaps as a testament to how effective a job it does as a “period piece,” Caught Stealing is sure to remind viewers who still cling to, er, live in New York (and even those who never have) that such a statement simply isn’t true. Sometimes, the reality is that it really was better before. This is one of those instances. Even so, it doesn’t stop Regina King (as a cop named Roman), meant to be existing in one of the city’s primes, the 90s, from delivering a beautifully bitter monologue that details how she won’t miss anything about New York other than the black and white cookies once she makes her escape. Because “escape from New York” isn’t just a movie, but a wise person’s motto. Besides (barring that traitor, Joan Didion), Californians like Hank never really commit to New York, eventually turning it into just another base stop on the way home.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Lily Allen and the “I Can’t Be An Artist Because I’m A Mother” Backlash

    Lily Allen and the “I Can’t Be An Artist Because I’m A Mother” Backlash

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    The topic of being a mother and the sacrifices that come with it is never an easy one to discuss. But it becomes even more of a political hot potato when the additional topic of being an artist is thrown in as well. In more recent years, it’s become a conundrum more philosophically analyzed and scrutinized in literature and pop culture alike. As for the former, Sheila Heti wrote an entire book (title, what else, Motherhood) about her decision not to become a mother precisely due to her fear of compromising her art. Some women truly feel/believe that one cannot exist without sacrificing the other. Lily Allen is clearly one of them—and maybe she’s not wrong. But it still seems that Allen has a bit of resentment/guilt about giving up on a key aspect (nay, the main aspect) of her artistic life: being a musician. That much was made clear during a promo interview for The Radio Times Podcast in honor of her own upcoming podcast (yes, it’s super meta) series, Miss Me?, co-hosted with lifelong friend Miquita Oliver. 

    It was during this amuse-bouche for Miss Me? that Allen remarked, “I never really had a strategy when it comes to career. Uh, but yes—my children ruined my career.” Oliver then looks at her in disbelief over how real she’s being as they both laugh about her decidedly British candor/sense of humor. Allen doubled down by adding “I mean I love them and they complete me [Jerry Maguire much?], but in terms of, like, pop stardom, totally ruined it. Yeah.” Oliver commends Allen’s honesty with, “That is such a good answer. I’m so happy to hear someone say that. Everyone’s like, ‘No, of course not!’” Allen quickly confirmed, “Does not mix. It really annoys me when people say you can have it all because, quite frankly, you can’t. And, you know, some people choose their career over their children and that’s their prerogative, but, you know, my parents were quite absent when I was a kid and I feel like that really left some, like, nasty scars that I’m not willing to, you know, repeat on mine. And so, I chose stepping back and concentrating on them and I’m glad that I’ve done that because I think they’re very well-rounded people.” Of course, when Allen’s children, Ethel and Marnie, grow old enough to hear about this little pull quote, it might leave its own nasty scar on them—realizing they were the direct cause of stifling their mother’s musical freedom and depriving the world of more Lily Allen records. 

    Then again, Allen hasn’t “full-stop” quit, with hints at her return coming as recently as this year, when she responded to a comment on Twitter (never to be referred to as X), “Please when are you making a follow-up to your best LP, No Shame?” with “I am making it now, I don’t know how long it will take, but you will be able to hear some things soon.” So clearly, Allen hasn’t “retired” from music if she can still find time to write a new album whilst “focusing on her kids.” Nor has it prevented her from other time-consuming creative endeavors like starring in a West End theater production (both 2:22 and Pillowman) or a TV show (Dreamland). Or, of course, making a podcast series with Oliver. But it would seem these things are more noncommittal than the rigors of putting out an album (Rihanna would appear to feel the same way, having taken a musical hiatus well before her post-children era and seeming to be spurred to maintain that hiatus after giving birth to two kids). Especially when a musician actually chooses to tour it. Yet Allen did do both of these things in 2014, when her daughters were three and one, respectively.

    Maybe, indeed, it was going on the Sheezus Tour that gave Allen a wake-up call about the “artist’s lifestyle” not entirely mixing with motherhood (mind you, this was also the period during which she admitted to having sex with female escorts out of sheer loneliness and depression—having her second child the year before had left her with a bout of postnatal depression, to boot). Because after that, Allen wouldn’t release a record for another four years, 2018’s No Shame. This album, like Sheezus with “Take My Place” (about the stillbirth of her first child with Sam Cooper in 2010), would also explore the complexities and heartbreaks of motherhood, namely on track nine, “Three,” which speaks from the perspective of her daughters as they watch her leave for tour or various other musically-related publicity blitzkriegs. Hence, sadness-filled lyrics like, “You say you love me, then you walk right out the door.”

    It was that line that perhaps provided Allen with the seed of the revelation that would come after touring No Shame in 2018-2019, coming to grips with the idea that maybe she had already missed so much of the early years and it was time to “settle down.” The timing of that epiphany seemed to coincide perfectly with meeting David Harbour in 2019, marrying him in 2020 and becoming a Carroll Gardens mom (second only to the similarly annoying Brooklyn cliche of a Park Slope mom). So it is that we haven’t seen any new music from Allen in six years. For context, her longest break between albums before that was the five-year period it took her to release Sheezus after It’s Not You, It’s Me. 

    And, talking of that sophomore album, her present comments about motherhood (in terms of “being there” in a way her own parents weren’t) and artistry are a sharp about-face from her last interview with Oliver in 2009, as It’s Not Me, It’s You was being released. During it, she told Oliver, “My childhood was tricky, but so is everyone’s I think. So, um, yeah. It affected me and made me the person I am today and I think I’m okay. Now.” If Allen were still to go by that, then perhaps she would keep making music and touring under the conception that absenteeism as a parent builds character. Raises children who are “tough” and imaginative. 

    Her one-eighty stance, alas, caused a backlash that was strong enough for Allen to retweet a defense from Charlotte Elmore saying, “Context for those going wild over a Lily Allen headline ⬇️ Let’s normalise not ✨having it all✨ and take the expectations down a notch?” But this is in direct contrast to everything the “modern woman” has been told, starting somewhere around the era of Baby Boom starring Diane Keaton. Yet, by the end of that film, viewers are ultimately left with the impression that “having it all” still requires some significant sacrifice/compromise (not to mention a boyfriend or husband). In short, a total reassessment of priorities.

    Then there was someone like Madonna, who actually leveled up after having her first child, releasing an album (arguably still her best: Ray of Light) inspired by the occurrence of transmogrifying into “Mother” (beyond just the gay definition of that word). And in a recent interview with Mary Gabriel about the biography she wrote on the Queen of Pop, the author argues that part of what makes Madonna so unique, so punk rock (when she’s not appearing in bank commercials) is her continued ability to be unapologetically an artist after becoming a mother. Specifically, she told MadonnaTribe, “When Madonna became a mother, she rescued older women from the exile that motherhood often imposes upon them. In 2000 when she wore her shirt with Rocco on the front and Lola on the back, she showed what a forty-something mother looked like. Jumping around the stage at the Brixton Academy, she exploded the idea that a woman of a certain age—especially a mother of a certain age—couldn’t be gorgeous, fun, sexy, strong and enjoying a career. At a time when companies didn’t promote women with children because they feared the woman would be too distracted, Madonna showed motherhood wasn’t a distraction, it was empowering.”

    Of course, here it bears noting that Madonna undeniably had plenty of hired help to aid in this process (speaking on that reality frankly with the “American Life” rap, “I got a lawyer and a manager, an agent and a chef/Three nannies, an assistant, and a driver and a jet/A trainer and a butler and a bodyguard or five/A gardener and a stylist, do you think I’m satisfied?”). Something Allen could technically afford to invoke as well, but has perhaps since thought better of it than the days when she was still releasing new music and touring circa 2014 and 2018. 

    Or maybe, as a Brooklynite, she found herself reading 2021’s Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder for added confirmation of her decision to “stand down,” as that book is all about the struggle for a female artist to keep working at her art after having a child, eventually turning that struggle into performance art (with the child incorporated into it). Also recently added to the culture of this mother-or-artist conundrum, Halsey’s If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power (like Nightbitch, also released in 2021) explores the territory of motherhood/womanhood when it comes to continuing to pursue art post-childbirth. Halsey appears to be conflicted on the matter as well, with lyrics like, “Go on and be a big girl/You asked for this now/You better show ’em why you talk so loud” and “I just wanna feel somethin’, tell me where to go/‘Cause everybody knows somethin’ I don’t wanna know/So I stay right here ’cause I’m better all alone/Yeah, I’m better all alone.” Described by Halsey as a concept album (Allen has, incidentally, said that’s what her next album is going to be, too) centered on the specific “horrors of pregnancy and childbirth,” it’s apparent that Allen isn’t the only female artist with some very mixed emotions on the matter of motherhood. Especially as it relates to continuing to be an artist at all. 

    During Allen’s formative years as a millennial, it was Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) who further corroborated the idea that women could “have it all” in the season three Sex and the City episode, “All or Nothing” (which first aired in 2000). A title that unwittingly speaks to what Allen is saying about choosing between one thing or another: artistry or motherhood (some would say artistry is the “all,” while motherhood is the “nothing”). And, lest anyone forget, Samantha was more of a perennially single, “non-mother” type than Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) herself, so maybe it was easier to make such a declaration. 

    And so, if Allen can confirm that, sooner or later, a choice must be made (or it will be made for you) about art or motherhood, it certainly doesn’t make the latter sound any more appealing to those women who do view their art as their true child. Besides, does any kid really want to be referred to as “Mommy’s favorite mistake” once they see in adulthood that they stymied their mum’s creative output?

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Lolahol Finally Surrenders Full-Stop to Emulating Her Mother, “Spelling” Us With An Updated Take on the “Frozen” Video

    Lolahol Finally Surrenders Full-Stop to Emulating Her Mother, “Spelling” Us With An Updated Take on the “Frozen” Video

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    The first introduction to Lourdes Leon a.k.a. Lolahol as a singer was 2022’s “Lock&Key.” More to the point, that introduction revealed Lolahol’s unexpected preference for one, Lady Gaga (via incorporating a very specific Gaga quote into the lyrics). The other pop star often cited as being rebellious, unafraid to push boundaries and a constant LGBTQIA+ ally. Needless to say, Madonna was all of these things decades before Lady Gaga came ‘round to continue the “trend.” And yes, it could be said that Madonna did make all of those things “trendy,” during a time when everything she stood for was branded as terminally taboo or, quite simply, uncool. Even her children took a while to come around to her music, with Madonna citing on more than one occasion that they didn’t really like it. Or would simply tell her when a song she was making rubbed them the wrong way. 

    However, one song that only the most heartless of fools would try to deride as anything less than extraordinary is Madonna’s 1998 track, “Frozen.” And, boldly enough, it served as the first single from Ray of Light. For not every pop star would be so willing to set the tone for a record with something as “moody” (a.k.a. not Top 40 radio-friendly) as this. But then, Madonna had never done anything by the book before that point, either. In choosing to “update” this video for her new song, “Spelling” (a witchy reference, not a language arts one), Lourdes Leon invites further automatic comparisons to her mother (so much for wanting to stand apart as one’s own artist). And, in that spirit, the “Frozen” video, directed by Chris Cunningham, must be mentioned before even bothering to unpack the visuals of “Spelling.” 

    Opening on the cracked ground of the Mojave Desert (“Can’t take the heat in a desert dream,” Lolahol sings at one point), “Frozen” is quick to show us a witchy, Elvira-like Madonna suspended in mid-air as she tells us, “You only see what your eyes want to see/How can life be what you want it to be?/You’re frozen.” These lyrics, of course, are leaps and bounds above Lolahol’s patchier offerings on “Spelling,” including, “You stay in the water/Remind you/Followin’ in black, whatever/Cyclical, bicycle, oh, yeah.” In a way, it comes off trying to sound like a “classier” version of Nicki Minaj rapping, “Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle/Come true yo, get you this type of blow/If you wanna menage I got a tricycle.” Apart from that, it’s obviously just Lolahol grasping at straws for a word that pairs well with “cyclical.” And yes, that’s what “Spelling” is, one supposes. Proof that, as Madonna says on “Extreme Occident,” “Life is a circle.” 

    That seems to be why, just three days before her twenty-seventh birthday (with “Spelling” released on October 11th), Leon says goodbye to twenty-six (the age Madonna was when she rose to meteoric fame with “Like A Virgin,” complete with that iconic MTV VMAs performance) by saying hello to her inner Madonna. Something she appeared to have been fighting for a while in her bid to become “her own person.” Yet perhaps the wisest thing she could have done is realize that trying to run away from a juggernaut like Madonna is impossible. Especially when she’s your mother. Plus, Leon is no stranger to “Frozen,” aware of its every sonic nuances after making a dramatic choreographed video to accompany Madonna’s live performance of the song during the Madame X Tour. Shot in black and white, the video’s presentation makes it so that Lourdes is larger than life behind Madonna, holding her literally in the palms of her hands at the beginning. Superimposed over one another throughout, this moment on the tour was consistently singled out as a highlight by many critics. And when Madonna sings, “Give yourself to me,” it has an eerie effect, as though she’s asking Lourdes to be “hers” for all of eternity. 

    In effect, that’s what a child is (read: property) to a parent in general. Unless, like Madonna, you suffer the blow of losing your mother too soon. As many know by now, Madonna was just five when her mother, Madonna Sr., died of breast cancer, creating an emotional void in the singer’s life that she would seek to fulfill until the birth of Lourdes in 1996. And yes, her name does refer to being something of a miracle to Madonna, who perhaps never thought she would find a love so fulfilling. Enter the cheesy headline that some magazine (in this case, Vanity Fair) was bound to use right after Lourdes’ birth: “Madonna and Child.” This was a far cry from a 1991 Vanity Fair cover story on Madonna called “The Misfit.” In it, Madonna mentions a palm reader who came to a New Year’s Eve party at her house on that last day of 1990. According to M, “She looked at my palm and she said I’m never going to have any children.” So much for being prophetic. And yet, knowing Madonna, she probably set out to have as many children as possible after hearing a fortune teller insist that she wouldn’t. For Madonna’s entire drive in life has been to prove people wrong when they tell her she “can’t” do something. 

    This can be attributed to her oppressive patriarch, Tony Ciccone, who gave his eldest daughter a strict Catholic upbringing. One that, without the gentleness of a mother, likely seemed particularly stifling. As Madonna said, “When you grow up without a mother… you are on a mad search for love. Unconditional love.” Madonna’s comments on mothering (long before the overused “mother is mothering” phrase came along) also stood out in Truth or Dare, during which she discusses her maternal feelings toward her dancers, noting, “I think I have unconsciously chosen people that are emotionally crippled in some way. Or who need mothering in some way. Because I think it comes real natural to me. It fulfills a need in me to be mothered.” That more than slight tinge of non-altrusim in Madonna’s motives for wanting to “nurture” would come across in later interviews after she had Lourdes. 

    For instance, in a 2003 interview with Megan Mullally called “Madonna Speaks,” she once again mentions how the birth of her daughter was the beginning of her losing her sense of narcissism (timed to coincide with her study of Kabbalah). She adds antithetically to that declaration, “My children help me see myself… I see my daughter being, you know, reacting to things and I get kind of anxiety-ridden watching her do it and I go, ‘My god, that’s me.’ It’s kind of like a mirror thing that happens… ‘cause your children really are mirrors of you, they’re sparks of your soul. And when you learn to embrace your children for all of their shortcomings, in a way, you’re doing that to yourself.”

    Phrased like that, Madonna comes across as one of those parents who definitely relishes having children for the benefit of making a “carbon copy” of oneself. This only adding to Madonna’s legacy—one that assures she will live on long after she’s left this Earth. Not just through her work, but through her children. After all, Madonna has called them her greatest work of art (more property allusions), not any of the music or other media she’s put out into the world. And Lolahol’s tribute to Madonna and “Frozen” builds on that secured legacy. 

    In the post that accompanied Lolahol’s announcement of the video’s release, she wrote, “This piece is very special. It’s an homage to my mother’s timeless piece of art ‘Frozen’ [obviously]. That piece has come up countless times in my life, connecting the two of us. I would be nothing without the woman who brought me into the world. I revere her, and hope that this translates.” This feels like a far cry from previous, less than reverent statements Lourdes has made about Mama Madonna. But maybe with age comes wisdom. Or a “softening.” That’s what happened to Madonna much later in life, circa forty, with Ray of Light marking her complete transition into “Ethereal Girl” in lieu of “Material Girl.”

    Claire Farin, the director of “Spelling,” seeks to bring the same hard edge to that softening that reveals itself in the “Frozen” video (swapping out the desert in favor of a quintessentially creepy woods setting). Which is why her interpretation of the latter echoes something more tantamount to Chilling Adventures of Sabrina meets the witchy scenes in Lana Del Rey’s “Chemtrails Over the Country Club” video. After all, this is still a Gen Z project. Or “piece,” as Leon kept repeating. Such deliberate use of that word also calls attention to her “weird art kid” status. That same phrase being used by a Madonna fan after seeing the Madame X Tour. Madonna then promptly reposted the comment in her story. And yes, of late, Madonna is being re-evaluated as someone who has always been more “pure artist” than pop star. At least, this is the approach Mary Gabriel takes in the latest biography about the star, called Madonna: A Rebel Life. And maybe Leon finally saw some of that rebellion as being worthy of deference. 

    Even if her single cover smacks more of Evanescence’s Fallen than it does Madonna’s “Frozen.” The point is, Leon is trying. To “do homage,” that is. She even nods more subtly to another video of Madonna’s, “Die Another Day,” by wrapping black bands around her arms, tefillin-style. Another American Life-era track that seems to have an influence is “I’m So Stupid,” with Lolahol singing, “Everybody’s looking for something” in the same tone as Madonna when she declares, “Everybody’s lookin’ for somethin’/Everybody’s stupid, stupid.” Lolahol instead accuses herself of stupidity by remarking, “I was stupid and it doesn’t work like that.” Whether she meant to reference “I’m So Stupid” or not, it’s clear Leon has been paying more attention to her mother’s work (even if only through osmosis) than she might have previously let on. 

    Though she’s vague about the “it” in “doesn’t work like that,” maybe what Lolahol is referring to pertains to the presumed ease with which she could kick start her own career by sheer virtue of being Madonna’s daughter. To that point, Madonna said of Lourdes in 2019, “She doesn’t have the same drive [as me]—and again, I feel social media plagues her and makes her feel like: ‘People are going to give me things because I’m [Madonna’s] daughter.’ I try to give her examples of other children of celebrities who have to work through that ‘Oh yeah, you’re the daughter of…’ and then eventually you are taken seriously for what you do.”

    This seems to be gradually happening to Lourdes. But it might actually be a detriment to call further attention to her nepo baby status by emulating such an iconic visual of her mother’s (as we also saw in the video for Go’s “Cuntradiction”). At the same time, if anyone “deserves” to emulate, who else but Lourdes ought to? (But don’t try telling that to a drag queen.) It’s something she’s been doing since at least 2009 (or 2003, if you count her cameo during the Britney/Xtina performance of “Like A Virgin”), when she appeared in Madonna’s “Celebration” video dressed in M’s “Like A Virgin” regalia, complete with wedding dress and “Boy Toy” belt. At the time, she was just shy of turning thirteen. In the years since, Leon has proven to be a quick study in the ways of her mother, even going to the same university Madonna dropped out of (University of Michigan) before herself “dropping out” to transfer to SUNY Purchase. Pursuing the same love of dance that Madonna possessed when she went to college (indeed, there are moments during the aforementioned Madame X Tour performance of “Frozen” where Lourdes becomes U of M-era Madonna), Leon has been quoted as saying of dance: “You’re using your body to define the space around you—to change it. That’s a very naked form of expression.”

    Nakedness becomes more literal in “Spelling,” with Leon opting to differentiate her version of “Frozen” from Madonna’s by entering into a body of water wearing only her birthday suit. As though baptizing herself a fully-formed star. Something Madonna also did by choosing to move to New York and reinvent herself for the very first time. Having schooled both Lourdes and several generations of women on not being ashamed of nudity (see: Madonna declaring, “I’m not ashamed” when her pre-fame nude photos were leaked to Playboy and Penthouse), Lourdes pointedly chooses to “sex up” this “Frozen” homage with one of her mother’s tried-and-true shock value staples. Except that, as a direct result of Madonna, women who are comfortable with their sexuality are no longer even half as shocking. 

    In 2019, Madonna gave an interview to iHeartRadio, during which she was asked if she thought any of her children would follow in her footsteps. She replied, “Following in my footsteps? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” Yet it seems as though, suddenly, Lourdes wants to do something like that, or as close to it as someone from Gen Z (bordering dangerously on millennial) can get to imitating Madonna. With imitation still being, so they insist, the sincerest form of flattery. Not, instead, the greatest sign that there is nothing original left to do or say.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Obsession With Marking Time Through Pop Culture

    The Obsession With Marking Time Through Pop Culture

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    In the past several years, it’s become more and more common to “celebrate” (or mourn) the passing of milestone anniversaries for films and albums. This year, the sudden trend has evolved into also taking note of which songs were released, specifically, twenty-five years ago. A.k.a. singles that came out in 1998. Some of the more pronounced callouts in media have been Madonna’s “Ray of Light,” Britney Spears’ “…Baby One More Time,” Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing),” Brandy and Monica’s “The Boy Is Mine,” Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody?,” Cher’s “Believe,” Christina Aguilera’s “Reflection” and Beastie Boys’ “Intergalactic.”

    In 1998’s defense, of course, it was a particularly momentous year for music. And, as usual, it has to be said, Madonna was the one to set the tone for mainstreaming the genre of the moment—electronica—by releasing Ray of Light in March. Cher would follow auditory suit (likely to Madonna’s eye roll) in October of that year with the release of “Believe” and the album of the same name. Where Madonna stopped at suffusing her music with William Orbit-helmed electronica sounds, Cher pushed further by being among the first to incorporate Auto-Tune in a manner antithetical to its original purpose (which was to disguise being off-key). With her unapologetically warped voice singing the “I Will Survive” of the 90s, Cher rang in a new era of musical manipulation.

    Elsewhere, Brandy and Monica relied on the tried-and-true duet method for their chart success (as did Mariah and Whitney with The Prince of Egypt’s “When You Believe,” for that matter—it was an animated movie soundtrack kind of year, what with Xtina’s “Reflection” being from the Mulan Soundtrack, to boot). But perhaps what stood out more than anything about “The Boy Is Mine” was its totally implausible video, wherein we’re supposed to believe The Boy (Mekhi Phifer) was able to carry off the logistical nightmare of fucking two women who lived next door to each other in the same building.

    “…Baby One More Time,” needless to say, stood out for its sound and visual, with Britney notoriously catering to every man’s Nabokovian fetish for schoolgirls by dressing in a Catholic school uniform throughout most of the Nigel Dick-directed video. It was this moment in pop culture history that perhaps signaled the biggest sea change of all from one decade into another. For, although Britney burst onto the scene (and caused men’s pants to burst in so doing) in the 90s, she was a decidedly 00s pop star. The leading example of what that entailed sonically and visually, with the likes of Jessica Simpson, Willa Ford, Mandy Moore, Hilary Duff and, later, even Taylor Swift emulating what Britney had perfected. That is to say, being a “pop tart.” Prancing around in sequined leotards with fishnets and singing “subtly” about sex. Because, in 1998, the United States was still in love with the idea of losing more of its innocence, a desire immediately established in January of that year, when the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal broke. For not since “Dick” Nixon had the nation been forced to see how little trust they should place in the “highest office in the world.” And all because, like most men, he couldn’t resist a blow J.

    So as America continued to deflower itself in a post-internet existence that was further punctuated by the release of The Matrix in 1999, the music and the videos that came with it seemed to reflect this period in American pop culture history more than any other. Even Next’s “Too Close” was a 1998 hit that talked exclusively about a man’s issues with concealing his boner because a woman dared to get “too close” to him. Therefore, “asking for it,” etc. (or, “You know I can’t help it,” as Next insists). This prompting Vee of Koffee Brown to demand, “Step back, you’re dancin’ kinda close/I feel a little poke comin’ through on you.” It’s a song that encapsulates many a junior high dance of the day, when “freaking” was all the rage among the preadolescent set.

    As mentioned, more than the songs that were about sexual awakenings/yearnings, the music of 1998 was dead-set on innovating. This included the aforementioned “Are You That Somebody?” and “Intergalactic,” as well as Fatboy Slim’s “The Rockafeller Skank,” all awash in sounds that would become a retrospective “time stamp” for the era. In general, that’s part of the reason why many people so love to mark time through pop culture. More than one’s own personal life (with memories triggered by certain songs), it is far likelier to offer a historical snapshot of a particular epoch lost to the quicksand of minutes and then years and then decades. The obsession to mark time as a whole, however, stems not from nostalgia, so much as being part of a capitalistic society in which time is literally money.

    If you look up, “Why do people keep track of time passing?” one of the top answers is extremely telling: “Time tracking is key to understanding how you spend your time, personally and in business. It is key to productivity, insight and a healthy workflow. This is equally important to everybody in an organization, or society.” In other words, if you aren’t productive within the capitalistic machine (complete with the purchasing power to support entertainment industries), then what good are you? Do you even exist? That pop culture is also a buttress for capitalism, thus, makes it inextricably linked to that system. Further solidified by how these anniversaries of album and song releases can provide the catalyst for re-releases that will prompt fans and even casual listeners alike to buy the same product again, whether digitally or as a result of being enticed by some “collector’s edition”-type presentation.

    Underlying capitalistic-driven motivations aside, maybe the reason why some are especially gung-ho about marking the passage of time this year by looking back on 1998 in music is because it was arguably the last time a pioneering shift occurred in said medium. With the dawning of the 2000s, hauntology would come to dominate the musical landscape more than anywhere else, complete with musicians like Amy Winehouse and Arctic Monkeys sounding as though they were pulled straight out of the 1960s rather than the twenty-first century. The same could also later be said of such acts as The Raveonettes, Duffy, Adele and Lana Del Rey.

    And when next year rolls around to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of songs like Smash Mouth’s “All Star,” Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” Bloodhound Gang’s “The Bad Touch,” Sugar Ray’s “Every Morning” and Crazy Town’s “Butterfly,” we’ll perhaps more fully understand the pinpointable instant when things started to take a dive (compounded by 1999 also being the year Napster was launched).

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    Genna Rivieccio

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