As we approach the last quarter of 2005, we can expect a deluge of Madonna. Nothing - not time, not popular tastes, apparently not even bucking horses - can stop Madge from delivering what is sure to be a crowd-pleasing album of dancefloor anthems. And then she'll wrap that yummy morsel in a delightfully sweet coating of interviews and promotions for her hungry public. Mmm mmm good!

  

As with other holidays, there are traditions to uphold on the eve of an official Madonna release. There are release parties, Madonnathon career retrospectives, and endless con-jecture about "surprise" live appearances. For the record, Madonna, my nerves cannot bear the weekly rumors about the slim possibility of you again gracing the stage at Roxy in New York City. As my father used to say, "Sh*t or get off the pot!"

Another tradition for when our gal's in the spotlight is good ol' Madonna-bashing, the desperate attacks waged by those less enlightened. Madonna media-stroking is sure to reach a critical mass in the next few months, and, when saturation point is reached, and probably way before, soothsayers will take their swipes at the icon. Any. Way. They. Can. We are on red alert, folks.

Part of that virulent crusade, however innocuously couched, will be manifested in labeling the American Life album as a "bad" album. Reviewers and pundits will likely say something to the effect of, "Confessions on a Dancefloor is Madonna's first album in two and a half years, following the weak and much-maligned American Life."
 


Putting a negative spin on the album beyond suggesting it was disappointing in terms of units shifted is unfair, to Madonna and to legions of listeners who actually enjoyed the album. Using loaded words like "weak," as above, belies the artifact quality of an album sampled from a broad discography.

  

Sure, I'm biased. But I, too, was initially underwhelmed, to say the least, by American Life. I think a lot of people who have it out for Madonna, including not a few mainstream critics, never provided an opportunity for the album to grow on them, sonically speaking.

Commercially, yes, maybe the album did not fare as well as Madonna's other albums. U.S. sales were extremely disappointing, especially after such a blockbuster first-week tally. But do six million album sales worldwide justify a "dud"? Can Madonna be said to have birthed a "bomb" because there was no smash single on par with Music or Ray of Light? Most performers would kill to sell a fraction of what a Madonna "disaster" reaps. Madonna merely disappointed greedy retailers.

Speaking of singles, don't even get me started on the titular track. Now, look, I am not placing blame for what caused the album to "flop," but I will give you a hint: it rhymes with "manerican wife." When the "rap" portion of the song was leaked on the Internet weeks before the actual tune, I thought it was a Starbucks ad gone horribly awry ("I'm drinking a soy latte/ I get another shote"? Um, no.) Was that supposed to entice people? It's too easy to blame the national consciousness and political climate for the single's poor showing.
And it's equally simple to say the lack of a proper video stymied its chances to get heavy rotation. Both are cop-outs.
 


What we can safely say is that the lead single flatlined because it - earmuffs, die-hards! - stunk. Unlike the anticipation already building up for Confessions thanks to chills-inducing snippets of Hung Up, the American Life single did little to snare buyers. The loud thud that resounded in the spring of 2003 required a massive public relations about-face and marketing savvy to reverse the album's misfortune.

  

On its merits, the American Life song is fine. I just question, in hindsight, its hand in the album's quick death on the charts. The song has its place in Madonna lore now, thanks to the controversy surrounding the shelved video (which wasn't anything spectacular anyway) and a memorable interpretation (read: angry and urgent) used in the Re-Invention Tour. But these, and an appropriate rock version of the single featured on Remixed & Revisited later that year, just could not save the album from the pits of dismal sales; they were too after-the-fact.

Frankly, that whole launch-of-American Life era will be remembered by just four words: brown hair and beret. See, this is where the average record buyer ended his interest in Madonna's music for the time being. The American Life CD sank like a stone in the U.S.

The videos for the album did not live up to the songs they accompanied. Hollywood was rushed to radio to salvage what little money could be milked from the CD. The single itself is excellent: poppy, memorable, and lyrically significant.
The video? Not so much. Hey, I'm all about Madonna getting a lot of face time in her videos, but the Hollywood mélange just didn't do it for me. Especially when we learned the entire thing was essentially ripped off - not inadvertently borrowed or sampled or by way of homage - from a French artist.
And the Love Profusion promo, though beautiful in execution, felt like a make-up commercial. Oh, wait, it WAS a make-up commercial. Director Luc Besson wasted no time in splicing Madge right into that L'Oreal spot. Too bad the Die Another Day clip was timed for the James Bond movie the year before. Video-wise, we need another Bedtime Story! The coolest video Madonna did that year was Me Against the Music, and that song is not even considered a proper Madonna song.

By the time the Gap campaign had been launched, The English Roses had been released, and Madonna had kissed Britney at the VMAs (distraction, anyone?) later that year, the album had already been mostly forgotten.

And, through it all, American Life sales remained disappointing. Fine.

Again, however, this does not detract from the rest of the album itself, the musical content at issue. Nor does it justify a "stinker" classification. Here's why: American Life, the album, is actually quite brilliant.
 

I am a sucker for Die Another Day, a tune that refuses to doff its luster in my mind. Nothing Fails is, by all accounts (even by a lot of those stodgy critics) the shoulda-been-a-smash of the year. Easy Ride is to American Life as Gone is to Music; that is to say, the downtempo, introspective gem of a finale. And words just cannot do justice to Nobody Knows Me.

It's not about blame, really, as per what went wrong with the album such that others deem it a failure and to which we must rebut. That is just me trying to make sense of a pop culture injustice so savage that Elvis is spinning in his grave.

  
 

Lame videos, trumped-up scandal, and marketing misfires diminished interest in an album that might unfairly be remembered for those very same things that aimed to help. That's ironic, Alanis.

So a critic might write off Intervention as inconsequential, Mother and Father as sappy, and I'm So Stupid as, well, stupid upon first listen-through. We as fans know that deeper appreciation of the album set in only later, after the electronic burps of Nobody Knows Me got digested, the X-Static Process message was perceived, and American Life, the song, was incorporated into the vibe of the album. Casual listeners, bullied by the media and lack of sensationalism around the album, might give up quickly and forage for more popular, more accessible records. It is easy to see how impenetrable the album might be.
 


It is more difficult - and more accurate, perchance? - to dismiss the impending critical barbs about the American Life album, shrug knowingly when a negative comment is made about it, and get ready for a new chapter in Madge's life.

  
 

 

 
Madge-ic Life