Confessions on the Dance Floor

The new Madonna album is, after one listen through, pretty bad. It's not the lyrics that necessarily make it mind numbingly awful, even though those are of special note. "I Love New York" sounds like it was written by her daughter ("Other cities always make me mad/ Other places always make me sad/ No other city ever made me glad/ except New York/I love New York/I love New York"), but I assume her daughter can move beyond the classic mad-glad-sad emotion rhyming scheme. The most important thing is that I really detested her use of religion. I'm not Jewish, or Christian, and I found her songs offensive. I mean, when I'm coked out on the dance floor or licking the anus of a stranger, the last thing I want to hear is Hebrew chanting. Listening to old Jewish guy groaning "Mmmmmm/ Im-ninalo Im-ninalo/ Mmmmmm/ Im-ninalo Im-ninalo" is not hot or even really interesting. I lived in a Hassidic Jewish neighborhood for a while and I've come to respect there need for a repressive, conservative society, it doesn't make me want to dance. I long for the days when Madonna's religious songs where simple, direct and innuendo filled: "When you call my name it's like a little prayer/ I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there/ In the midnight hour I can feel your power/ Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there."



I had high hopes for the album since Madonna sampling an ABBA song is like the faggy-atom bomb, but there really is no reason to buy the album unless you want to spend some extra time deciding if you're seeing pubic hair or crotch wrinkles in her leotard.