Unforgettable, Vol. 16: Madonna – Confessions on a Dance Floor

In 2005, Madonna dropped the world like a discoball. She created one of the decade’s best albums as she had created her entire career: by producing a self-context so great that it becomes the world’s Pop conscience. If “the main problem with 2008′s Hard Candy was that Madonna seemingly didn’t care,” and “with American Life she cared too much, to the point where it came across pushy and self-important,” 2005’s Confessions on a Dance Floor was the perfect medium where she cared-enough-to-count. Madonna’s greatest strength is her narcissism. She is Pop, and Confessions is nothing short of a brilliant response to Madonna’s answer to her own morning inquiry: “Mirrors, mirrors on the ball: whose four minutes saves them all?”

Madonna collaborated with British DJ Stuart Price (aka The Thin White Duke) to produce a sonic landscape based solely on herself. The atmosphere is the concept: pure, unadulterated Dance Pop. The gapless wonder gallivants glamorously through an hour-long soundscape; it is Madonna’s Magnum Opus and sonic aesthetic: timeless, constant, substantive within its style, and forever cosmic vintage.

Confessions opens with the track that won’t hold back: “Hung Up.” The intro is perfection as the head of an album that is paramount as a complete body of work. The faded clock sets the steady baseline and increasing urgency; the sole voice: “Time goes by… so slowly… time goes by… so slowly;” then comes the faint bass as a third wave building the back-beat riding along in tandem with airy synth; the bass descends as the synth rises to a fever pitch over the open hi-hat, before they all drop like four-on-the-floor.

http://d.yimg.com/static.video.yahoo.com/yep/YV_YEP.swf?ver=2.2.46
Music Video – Madonna – Hung Up @ Yahoo! Video

“Hung Up” is the antithesis of 2005 pop culture – it was five and a half minutes long in the midst of ringtone tracks; it was distinctly Euroelectronic in a sea of generic Americana Top 40; it was completely detached and irrelevant in a time of political satire and topical everything. Most importantly though, it came from Madonna in face of general Pop skepticism – and because of that it is the H.B.I.C. of singles last decade.

What follows the masterful “Hung Up” is an electronic blueprint symphonic. Madonna lays the groundwork for the next generation with the anthem for digital era dance Pop: disco 2.0. “Get Together” samples Pink Floyd’s “Time” and segues into an album that is a continuum of pulsating beats and hypnotic riffs. The electroacoustic layers create an atmosphere reminiscent of Dark Side of the Moon. Track-by-track the album ebbs and flows between heavy four-on-the-floor beats and vaporous vocals like a laser light lullaby. “There’s no love, like the future love… come with me,” echoes as an invite to see what the future feels like. If it feels anything like it sounds, it feels like fame.

Madonna constructs an environment where she can reflect and release; and for the once “Most Famous Woman in the World” – right below the rotating spotlights – the dance floor is her confessional. Confessions tandems lyrical content with the rhythms below to reflect the rise and fall of fame. The album peaks as electric guitars screech over double time kick bass and heavy synth keys in “I Love New York” while Madonna calls “If you can’t take the heat, get off my street.” Then, two lone violins usher in “Let It Will Be” over cellos as the signature aerial vocals sigh “Now I can tell you about success, about fame, about the rise and the fall of all the stars in the sky – don’t it make you smile?” As much as Confessions is a stylistically vapid sonic spectacle, it is also a quite astute perspective on fame… the rise and the fall of the stars in the sky: Ziggy played guitar, Madonna rides on lucky stars. “Now I can tell you the place where I belong… it won’t last long… the lights they will turn down… Just watch me burn.”

Whether igniting the future of Pop culture, or going down in a blaze of glory, Madonna is an eternal flame. While she may be known as the Material Girl, Confessions reflects her underrated lyricism when she goes metaphysical and writes breakthrough rays of light: “Remember remember and never forget, all of your life has all been a test; you will find the gate that’s open, even though your spirit’s broken. Open up my heart, and cause my lips to speak; bring the heaven and the stars, down to earth for me.” If “Hung Up” is the head of the album, “Isaac” is the soul. It blends indigenous rhythms with smooth syncopated basslines, and beautifully crescendos to a stratospheric strobe peak before leveling out as the steady penultimate pillar track.

http://www.youtube.com/v/FgH2KaBZHnw&hl=en_US&fs=1&

Confessions is just that: it is purely Madonna. It being so deliberate and thorough in its sonic aesthetic is why Madonna is the Queen. Instead of making songs that fit with the mainstream, she put out an album that – as a gapless track trumped contemporary singles – made the mainstream change its mold to fit her sound. Dense bass, atmospheric synth, and echoing distantly detached vocals, the new sonic aesthetic: speak softly, but carry a disco stick.

Confessions came at a time when Madonna was on the brink of imminent irrelevance – again. American Life was all but a mainstream flop – though it was a well solid album, all things being equal. The Re-Invention Tour all but capstoned an illustrious career – in a Hall of Fame welcome-to-the-401k kind of way. Maroon 5, Hoobastank, Kelly Clarkson, and Britney sitting atop the charts all but branded Madonna’s sound with the kiss of death. A marriage to Guy Ritchie, residence in the UK (with a half-accent to boot), and Ladies Home Journal cover all but solidified her place on a Victorian couch with a cup of Earl Grey to accentuate her undoubtedly gray locks.

Madonna’s genius though, is in her ability to recreate relevance when she seemingly needs it most – when the Pop world forgot themselves under the illusion that she was no longer Pop. She is the adrenaline shot to cure Pop culture comas, and the jagged little pill dealer to get the disco ball rolling. First and foremost though, she is the Madgesty of Modern Pop’s Manor. Confessions on a Dance Floor is Madonna’s 2005 reflection on herself as the Queen, her renaissance for the kingdom, and the necessary reminder that even after the lights go down, you can still dance in the dark – forget-she-not.

THE DROP: GaGaKlein – Alejandro

This is the drop after the first waves and floods: GaGa. Klein. Alejandro. I’m not here to talk about her facial features, or how to convert atheists into believers; I’m just saying that somewhere in the midst of a socio-political indie short film, and a scene-by-scene homage to immaculate conceptions – and collections – lies a near perfect Pop music video – period. Is pastiche supposed to be coherent? It is now – let’s delve.

Visually, this is a Pop video. It is fluid, it is atmospheric, it is conceptual, it’s relevant, it’s universal. It is literally a motion masterpiece. GaGa never stops, never smiles, never breaks character; that is where “Telephone” faltered – it couldn’t be taken fully seriously when it’s uber-kitsch bordered on the satirical. Here her intensity is constant – she’s as serious as the heart attack that is a possible side effect of viewing such a piece. At the most basic level, this video gets it in. If you can’t read between the lines, this video is for you; if you can’t read, this video is for you; if you like pretty pictures, this video is for you; if your top eco-friendly habit is recycling cereal bowls for haircuts, this video is for you. “Alejandro” is universal appeal; why is it nine minutes long: because that way, there is bound to be something for everyone. To elucidate on the sheer cinematic mastery that is Alejandro’s sonic aesthetic would be to diminish the authenticity of visual expression through semantic explanation. Let it be said though, that GaGa and her boys dans life like a LoveGame, and can werq a runway – two snaps and a circle around.

“Alejandro” as a video in the midst of Pop history is a fine respect to royalty – namely, Madonna. What the preview did to “Vogue“, was what the video in its entirety did to her Madgesty. Call it what you want – an ode, an homage, an ether, a poor execution – but call it. Some channel Madonna, but until now we have never seen a challenge. When Britney and Christina looked to inherit the throne, they dressed up in Madonna’s love and awaited her formal blessing. GaGa isn’t looking to inherit a throne, so much as she is actively acquiring and building a kingdom; she isn’t looking to be Madonna, so she isn’t looking to Madonna – or her kiss – she’s thinking “how would Madonna do what I’m doing now?” She looks to the one who built Madonna’s most comprehensive reinvention to direct her own, and she finds the man behind the epic ReInvention Tour’s aesthetic: she finds Steven Klein. Take a Pop artist with infinite resources – an endless well of Pop knowledge, a vast expanse of socio-historical references, an increasingly limitless scope of reality – pair her with a photographer who breathed life into Madonna’s live renaissance and you get GaGaKlein – if Pop was Power Rangers, GaGaKlein is Titanus Ultrazord… times three. The product is an homage to the Queen, from a successor – not a subject. That’s not the point though, the point is to make a point, and on the Madonna tip – this isn’t even the iceberg. GaGa is at a ReInvention state of mind, in the body of Blond Ambition. Welcome to Pop 2.0: cone bra upgrade, militaristic fashion show upgrade, quick-cut-to-concept Pop mélange upgrade, Frida homage upgrade. No, GaGa wouldn’t be where she is without Madonna’s path, but at some point we need perspective on the past: there are those who did it first, and those who do it best – statement of fact. Here, GaGa dresses for the job she wants, not the one she has: she took off the product placement and put on a pair of black slacks – because now she wears the pants in the family.

http://www.youtube.com/v/niqrrmev4mA&hl=en_US&fs=1&

The opposite side of the spectrum is what Alejandro means for GaGa in and of her former-Haus-now-Kingdom. She said The Fame Monster was her Blueprint 2: The Gift and The Curse. “Alejandro” is her Blueprint the Third… right down to the Reich. The video is visually stunning, it is a dazzling piece of work – and a beautiful fusion. She combines the classic cinematographic aesthetic quality and abstract social theory of “Bad Romance,” with the length and structure of “Telephone.” The atmosphere is the concept. “Alejandro,” at nine minutes, drags on for a music video, but in GaGa’s self-contextualized world where Pop Music Will Never Be Low Brow, it is exactly the length it needs to be for a film that is far more than the modern standard for a “video.” The production is so precise and well-crafted that each individual scene is a story in and of itself. It’s broadcast theatre. This is GaGa the jester giving her monsters a history to record.

Globally, this is the post-apocalypse. “Bad Romance” was the apocalypse. We saw the fall of the pristine white underground haven, the beautiful “Bath Haus.” The figurative patriarchy – objectifying and devaluing women – diminished to mere ashes beneath the literal skeleton of GaGa’s former owner. GaGa laying beside his corpse, unaffected with a lit cigarette hanging from her lips, as the vixen and the victor – the Kingdom now belonging to the she. Fast forward through “Telephone” – the “en route” between point A and point B (points BR and A rather). We arrive at her post-apocalyptic military nation. This is the pendulum swing of power. GaGa presides over a post-war wasteland. It is the polar opposite to the Bath Haus: desolate, obsolete not opulent, above ground, but far from the light, a place founded on survival over splendor. Here the social script is flipped: GaGa assumes a familiar position, embodying and emulating the stance of her former superiors, watching and analyzing her male objects below as the Russian Mob did before. She emulates their behaviors, but more so embodies their role – every David becomes a Goliath, and vice versa. She may have overtaken the former powers-that-be, but in her ascent she didn’t take down the institution, she merely assumed their position. As an iconography, she represents every revolutionary who killed the cause in light of the crown. She is the monarchy, she is the military, and she is the Church. This barren wasteland is no more of a utopia than the “Bath Haus.” So, she steps down from the throne and into the throws – literally, they toss her around like a You Doo Doll – where after a cavalcade she becomes the monster martyr.

For those who get caught in concepts, the point – again – is to make a point: globally, this is GaGa saying institutions are based on superiority and submission – whether it’s gender a la “Bad Romance,” or orientation a la “Alejandro” – that inequity is the apocalypse. Her own descent from power here leads to a familiar fate: GaGa on the left side of a bed, beside a male suitor; however now the bed is black, and she – the marionette, the monarch, the martyr – is laid to rest, while the male prevails. But wait – there’s more! What about the monsters? For them this is not a play, this is a promise. GaGa’s world is an alternate universe: as much as the institutions within the system hold the fringe elements subjected, the individual at the helm can be their salvation. In a real world where the freaks are disposable monstrosities, in her ball the monsters master the domain. This is her manifesto. She is legend to her tribe, and this is their Kingdom: she will be their monarch, she will be their general, she will be their matriarch, and she will be their martyr.

Scope out: none of the aforementioned reasons are why I love “Alejandro.” I appreciate this film because of what it is and what it means to GaGa and Pop. This is GaGa writing the Pop renaissance. I have said it before, which is all the more reason why I stress this now: she is so impossibly not finished. “Telephone” was the epitome of hype, it was her response to the bandwagoners, the critics, the skeptics, the monsters even. It was touted as “the moment” that the world hyped as her alpha and omega – and she obliged. “Telephone” was her full-length VMA Paparazzi finale: it was her killing herself on film so you would stop waiting for her demise. “Telephone” was Americana Pop to a fever pitch: product placement, bright lights and colors, death, buzz, hype, consumption, celebrity, garage, glamorous, ambiguity, ADHD-appeasing quick cuts ad nauseum – it was a cliché for a cause, but a cliché nonetheless. She exaggerated the expectations – if only to check it off the list. Post-“Telephone” comes the backlash. When you lower yourself to others’ expectations, you are left at the whim of their inevitable condemnation. So it was, and while the world focused on the artifice – the “exhaustion,” the “so bold, she’s boring,” the fad fatigue, the 14:59 syndrome – GaGa was cultivating her art in the cut. So, we slept on her; “Telephone” is her letting us know what happens when we seek, Alejandro is her letting the world know what she does while we sleep – difficult takes a day, impossible takes a week.

In a fitting pretense to the release, GaGa said at her SHOWStudio interview

“It’s been my experience in the industry that I have connected on a much deeper level with the most iconic and legendary people that I have admired. I have not connected with any of my contemporaries. That has freed me. I used to be guarded in interviews, I’d sit there with glasses on and barely speak. I almost developed an accent at one point, I was so guarded and nervous. The media was trying to destroy me. I let it go much more when I got to meet the people I worshipped as a child. It has influenced me most in the past six months, maybe a bit longer: everything happened very quickly for me. Meeting these people I’d give my right arm to have been around and learned from: I’ve discovered myself again. I’ve discovered my freedom, my security – myself. It makes me smile just talking about it.”

Nutshell: “I can’t connect with my contemporaries, in connecting with legends I’ve discovered myself;” read: “I discovered I am legend.” The subtle self-awareness is so strong here. In a whisper, she puts the “Lady GaGa” character to rest. Everyone hits this point, Madonna hit it around Evita (of which there were a number of nods in Alejandro), Britney, Justin, Christina never really hit it, Bowie killed Ziggy, etc. GaGa is hitting this less than two years after her debut release. All this is to say that “Alejandro” is her sea change – thus far.

GaGa didn’t ask the world to like her, she told them to – and we obliged, flaws and all. While, one one hand, she is officially having the most fun not playing games with the industry right now, she is also on a clear mission. “Alejandro” will stand as the point at which the skeptics were warned for the last time: in the face of early fame and its barrage, this icon was not broken, she was just a baby – but a child no more.

Paws.

A Dime, A Dozen: Madonna and Jay-Z – Pop Pillars

Round 6 of “A Dime, A Dozen” brings us to a pair that needs no introduction (that was easy): Madonna and Jay-Z

As far as modern culture is concerned, there was no “before Madonna” or “before Jay-Z,” these two go back with American Pop like babies and pacifiers – we were the babies, they appeased our early adolescent pop culture confusion, and fed our pop hearts (watch this space). This list wouldn’t exist without either of these Pop pillars. Essentially, not enough can be said about the overall impact of Madge or Hov on modern music and culture. However, said impact is by-and-large concentrated in their heydays of the 80s (Madonna) and 90s (Jay-Z). Yet, in the midst of bubblegum prostitots and auto-tuned out wankstas, Madonna and Jay-Z remained relevant. They were not so much out of touch with the young mainstream, as they were elevated monarchs presiding over their pool of possible heirs.

Madonna and Jay-Z are not only Pop’s pillars; they are the architects, Godparents, and yin and yang. They don’t collaborate with one another, they act independently to build each of their niches – which combines to create a panoramic baseline for Pop. The 2009 VMAs indicated just that:

“The VMAs open with Madonna — $120m “360″ deal for 10 years, about to come out with her epic greater-than-greatest hits CD/DVD collection: Celebration, reminding the world of her icon status, not that she trying to steal the spotlight from the Taylor Swifts, but that she built the stage they’re on right now — and the VMAs close with Jay-Z — $150m “360″ deal for 10 years, off the heels of his 9/11 concert and Blueprint 3 release, reminding the world of his icon status, that he’s not battling the Gucci Manes, but that he christened the battlefield, he’s reminding the pop princes, princesses, and paupers how to look at the big picture and get into the empire state of mind. So, the middle is all filler but the bookends are steady — thanks, Live Nation, you corporate behemoth you.”

As architects Madonna and Jay-Z (literally) laid the blueprint throughout the decade.

Madonna: I don’t know if you’ve heard, but music: it makes the people come together; you see, it makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel – and the beautiful strangers. Don’t believe me? Fine, just don’t tell me stop; tell the rain not to drop. Just try not to have the rain drop on my American life; I’m living the American dream here (seriously, who wouldn’t want to wax poetic about Pop culture all day). Madonna doesn’t spring to mind when one thinks of the 2000s, but rather than ask why, the question is why not? If you can’t name three Madonna songs from this decade, it isn’t because you don’t know her work, it’s because you didn’t pin them to her. Madonna is a Pop entity, but Madonna’s work is Pop culture.

Madonna began 2000 with her brilliant follow-up to the iconic Ray of Light, Music – done. Oh yeah, and I don’t know if you’ve heard of Borat, Bruno, or Ali G, but you can thank Madonna for bringing him stateside first.

Madonna writes singles, in her sleep, with two African babies, a half-Brit boy, and a half-Puerto Rican daughter that is already flier than pilots. The single “Music” embodied Pop – like an extension of Madonna herself. It was infectious, catchy, concise, and universal. 2003’s American Life was her socially conscious record (and for the record: forget what you heard, the album is not terrible, it still stands above the bulk of Pop that came out in 2003). Had it not been Madonna who released American Life, had it been a “socially-conscious” artist, the reviews and general reception would have been worlds different. Yet, it was Madonna. So, she took a “flop” album and followed it up with the larger-than-life-so-good-you-thought-I-was-retiring-but-I’m-just-getting-started-…-again Reinvention Tour. Yes it sold out, yes you wish you went. 2005 took you to the dancefloor, and Catholic or not you confessed, and left your head and heart there (watch this space). “Hung Up” – in the ever illustrious words of Madonna – was “just a badass song.” Oh, what’s that? Disco is dead? Madonna is too old to be relevant? Tell that to the 5 VMA nominations and Guinness Book of World Records – but not Madonna: it’s hard to hear you when she’s sitting way up there. 3 years later, she decided to save the world in 4 minutes. Hard Candy was Madonna filling out a to-do list before the decade ended. J. Timbs: check, Timbo: check, Pharrell: check, Kanye: check, solidified place in – yet another – tween market: check. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock… Don’t tell her to stop. She rounded out the 2000s with her third greatest hits album – first full compilation of her 26 year catalogue – Celebration, because, well, it’s a Celebration bitches – thus Weezy’s presence: AARP Early Bird specials for everyone!

Madonna knows the game – completely. She signed a 360 deal with LiveNation as only the second artist on their label – for a cool $120 million. In an age where people can barely keep up with the newest smartphone software (not Madonna, and her two Blackberries, iPhone, and pay-as-you-go-because-I-have-a-side-hustle-too), and every music executive is trying to figure out how to make money in the midst of file-sharing, Madonna has one tip for staying on top: make ridiculous live shows, because you can’t download the experience of a good live show. Money talks, haters walk: Reinvention Tour, Confessions Tour, Sticky and Sweet Tour – sold out, sold out, sold out. Like Ye, Pharrell, Lupe, and Thom said: “The more you try to erase me, the more I appear; and they love it, and they love it, and they love it…”

Every great Pop figure has to transcend just their day job. Last decade, Madonna got unconscious; this decade, Madonna got socially conscious. She went to the second poorest country in the world, and put them on the map: she raised Malawi. She single-handedly got the government to create adoption laws – just because she felt like adopting one of their native children. Oh yeah, and she produces documentaries: good ones.

She is the undeniable godmother to Pop. Any female pop star hoping to do anything, models themselves after The Queen – but it is only those who have that something that get the seal of approval. Christina, Britney, and Missy got it in 2003. Another certain someone got it this year (watch this space). Even the boys want to come to her yard: Pharrell got it, Timbo got it, J. Timbs got it, Lil’ Wayne got it, 50 got it on TRL. Love it or hate it, all of those she graced got money.

The brilliance of Madonna is in her hustle. She’s hustled from 1983 to and through 2009. Madonna might be the least-liked Greatest of All-Time of her kind. My brothers see her as a non-entity, most teens don’t know she makes music, no “cool kids” really acknowledge her publicly, and yet every single one of them knows who she is. That is Pop. When people don’t know why or how you got to be part of the vernacular and general consciousness, and when they do find out they scoff, but even still accept, respect, and perpetuate your necessary presence and relevance. She’s like Michael was: everyone within the industry knows what’s good – namely, her – and the mainstream follows suit, even, and especially, if they don’t.

For the kids out there who need a quick refresher course in who Madonna was/what she did this decade: Music, American Life, Confessions on a Dancefloor, Celebration; “Music,” “Don’t Tell Me,” “Die Another Day,” “American Life,” “Hung Up,” “Sorry,” “4 Minutes;” Reinvention Tour, Confessions Tour, Sticky and Sweet Tour. For the grown folks who are to hard/real to get down with that-old-lady-all-the-gay-guys-like: she was going to mother 2Pac’s child – don’t worry, the rest of the review will be here when you get back from letting the magnitude of said child marinate.

Madonna has hit an uncanny level of connected detachment with Pop culture. For this woman to be as well-known as she is, she is never shook. The only rumors we hear, are those she allows the media to publish. That is unheard of in this day and age. She is so above that of which she is such an integral part. Go to one of her shows and it is uncomfortably present. She has this unnatural ability to create atmospheres that strike the most innate chords – unleashing the most basic visceral elements of human nature. Most performers achieve this by living their art, and exuding their own emotions to build a connection with the audience. Other performers achieve this by “doing the Disney” – shelling out bright lights and loud fluff to a demographic of pre-adolescent tweens who go into super-cutie-seizure mode at even the faintest sight of the Mouseketeer du jour. Madonna does this by mentally constructing the perfect concoction of peak-produced audio, impeccably aligned visuals, pinpointedly precise choreography, and the finest engineered effects for any given venue – all masterfully intertwined and synchronized to create one of the best live experience our generation has ever witnessed. The key though, is her detachment. She does not feel what her fans feel, she doesn’t want to feel that. If she were empathetically linked, she would lose what makes her reign supreme. She is legend because she has been in the business from the bottom up, and knows innately what makes people tick tock, tick tock, tick tock: breakdown. Whereas another not-once-in-a-lifetime-but-once-in-life figure (watch this space) lives in a kingdom created by the fans – the kings and queens writing the perceived history of her, their devoted jester – Madonna is the Queen of her kingdom, and her kingdom is Pop. Namely: this

http://www.youtube.com/v/Ox-pGr-u6FE&hl=en_US&fs=1&

Jay-Z: Hoooovaaaa. Pretense: He’s not a businessman, he’s a business – man. Jay-Z is not just the Godfather. He’s the boss to which you answer, and from which you gauge yourself. He’s also Pop’s grandpop; he’s the one that makes you take your shoes off at the door, makes Cam take the pink mink off, makes Lil’ Mama’s label take her off, makes T-Pain take the shades off, makes Kelis take Nas off the yard, makes Soulja Boy take off the canary yellow, makes the world turn auto-tune off; he’s the one who makes you feel foolish for having it on in the first place, and the one you turn to for glory day reminiscences, and war stories.

You know what got big this decade: Brooklyn. You know who is so Brooklyn? Hov. Like T.I. did with the trap, Hov turned the world into his Marcy Playground. He’s a don, and not just a made man – but a self-made man. In 2000, he introduced us to The Dynasty: Roc la Familia – diamonds up. In 2001, (yes, on 9/11) he laid the official groundwork with The Blueprint, the instant classic, that remains in stereos from the Pacific to the Indian Ocean – and everywhere in between – to this day. Then, he unplugged it. The genius of Hov is his timing; he can flip albums like one Roc, two Roc, Black Roc, Blue Roc – namely coming out with the epic Blueprint 2: The Gift and The Curse one year after The Blueprint. Right at the – then thought – peak of his popularity and demand he dropped his retirement release in 2003: The Black Album. He said he was retiring, but now it seems he only threw out that idea to see if you would justify his thug – and, you did. So, with that settled, Hov came back in 2006 with Kingdom Come. Although, he did manage to drop one of the nicest verses to fall under cameo status on Memphis Bleek’s “Dear, Summer” in the interim; and collided with Linkin Park, while he was at it. After kingdom came and went, Hov graced us with 2007’s much needed return to theme albums: American Gangster – it’s Lukie baby.

Now, we are in 2009 and Hov laid the blueprint yet again. This time charmed without charming. Jay-Z released The Blueprint 3 out of a necessity we didn’t know existed, sitting in limbo deaf in the midst of auto-tuned distortions and blinded by iced-out distractions. Timing is everything with Mr. Carter. When he was hustling on the corner he shelled out albums every year, he was a hot rapper and that was the best business model for him. By the time we got The Gift and The Curse, Jay-Z hit J-Hova status and he knew he had to retire. For everyone to say, he didn’t retire; he actually did. He retired the runner status, and emerged a kingpin. He moved from checkers to chess in his downtime. He made business mergers, and acquired corporate partners. Britney died, because she’s human and she’s a personification – that’s what humans do. Hov retired because he is a business man, he is an entity. He doesn’t die, he retires. Madonna and Jay-Z share that connected detachment. Hov is all black everything, nothing shakes or shivers him – he grew up on the Brooklyn corners in the dead of Winter, the industry is the last thing that would give him a chill. Hov lives coolly detached.

People hated on BP3 because it wasn’t The Blueprint, because it wasn’t Reasonable Doubt, because of everything it wasn’t – Hov the prophet made BP3 it’s own answer to the questions it would spark – and thus is why everyone else loved it:

http://www.youtube.com/v/WM1RChZk1EU&hl=en_US&fs=1&

“Hov on that new sh*t, N*ggas like how come; N*ggas want my old sh*t, Buy my old album/N*ggas stuck on stupid, I gotta keep it movin; N*ggas make the same sh*t, Me, I make the Blueprint”

Why is Hov all over Letterman, the VMAs, AMAs, FuseTV, Rhapsody, and everywhere in between now? Because that’s what grown men do – grown men with $160m LiveNation deals. Hov has transcended the corner, he’s a corporation. He still has a hustler’s mentality, and that’s why he’s not hustlin on the block anymore. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have: Hov has the job he wants and the tailor-made threads suit him like the Brooklyn’s finest he is. More importantly though, address said job – he can’t design the blueprint if he’s always at ground zero with the construction workers.

Madonna and Hov are Pop’s yin and yang: where she shells out sugar (sticky and sweet) and appeals to the Pop fiends; Hov cooks it up on the stove, and hustles it out to the block fiends – we laud it, and they love it. They are two completely opposite sides of the same coin. She’s the Madonna to his Lucifer, the music inferno to his ice cold. I doubt I’ll see a studio collaboration between the two at anytime, outside of the Justify My Thug sample, and the possible exchange of pleasantries at the LiveNation holiday party. However, when Kings and Queens sit amongst their thrones, they rarely face each other – often, they face forward; check, and mate.

Madonna and Jay-Z are the steady constants that set the foundation for the landscape they dictate.

A Dime, A Dozen: Christina Aguilera and Coldplay – Honorable Mention

Round 2 of “A Dime, A Dozen” is the duo-that-didn’t-quite, the couple-right-outside-the-court: Christina Aguilera and Coldplay, my honorably mentioned Mainstream Maestros.

Pretense: These two… these two, these two. Coldplay could’ve been where Radiohead is, and Christina could’ve been where Britney – eh, well when you see the rest of the list you’ll see a better parallel <– hint) – is. That said, Christina and Coldplay are technically great artists, they pay attention to composition, and the classical art behind music – which I appreciate. They are also deliberate with their works – deliberate to the point of releasing an album and then disappearing for a few years; only to come back with a wildly successful, thoroughly enjoyable, and critically acclaimed piece, touring for a bit, running the award show gamut, and settling into a hibernating state for another few years before beginning the cycle yet again – which I appreciate. That said, thus is why they are not in the Court – they take too long. They are too traditional in method – message notwithstanding – to be Pop’s best of the decade. I cannot ignore the sheer talent and artistry of Christina Aguilera or Coldplay though.

So, here they are: my Mainstream Maestros.

Christina Aguilera – The Y2K bug wasn’t a myth: it merely resided within Christina Aguilera for a few years, like a viral zeitgeist it consumed her Pop persona and – in tandem with her incomparable voice – Xtina was born. Let’s start from the beginning.

Christina composed a career based from Madonna’s. While the world was saying Britney was the next Madonna, Christina was doing it. Think of “Ven Conmigo” as a “La Isla Bonita” tease before heading into her Stripped phase. Christina Aguilera in 1999 was 80s Madonna. Christina’s methodical focus on album longevity enabled her first album to illustrate her steady transition. While Britney churned out an album every year or so – with no less than three singles a piece – Christina matured in a way that allowed her to re-interpret the self-titled debut to track her development. The eponymous pop intro of Madonna, the innuendo of Like A Virgin, and the coming-of-age/girl-on-the-brink foreshadowing of True Blue all combined within Aguilera’s first effort meant one thing: for Y2K, X marked the spot – enter Xtina.

Technically, she began this decade’s discography with an ode to su hogar, Mi Reflejo, the it-counts-because-I-released-it Spanish language album.

Really, she rang in millenium 2K with 2 Rs:

http://www.youtube.com/v/amIu9AHagzg&hl=en_US&fs=1&

Stripped as an era was Christina’s Bedtime Stories and Erotica. Madonna’s sexual evolution came after her iconic The Immaculate Collection. More importantly though, in her down time from a complete new studio release, she recorded two of her most preeminent tracks to date – “Vogue” and “Justify My Love.” In similar fashion, during the three year hiatus between full studio releases, Christina recorded one of her most notable tracks as well – “Lady Marmalade.” This was an apropos foreshadowing into Aguilera’s most controversial single – “Dirrty.” It was during interviews at this time where journalists would ask Christina, “Why with the voice, talent, and ability you have would you distract listeners with your gratuitous hypersexuality?” Aguilera responded that Madonna was seen as a talentless exhibitionist during her sexual stage, while now she is seen as a legend. Aguilera knew what she was doing, and she had a full career in mind. This was a mere stepping stone – the artistic reflection of her female development. True to her word, Bedtime Stories and Erotica still hold some of Madonna’s most revered works; as Stripped – in its infinite 20-track wisdom – held some of Christina’s most successful tracks: “Beautiful,” “Fighter,” and “The Voice Within.” This was Christina saying “look at me all you want, but I dare you not to listen.”

2003 saw a changing of the guard. In the midst of Britney’s superlative peak of popularity – off the heels of the epic “Toxic” – she met her matriarch. The MTV Video Music Awards became the Freaky-Friday-fortune-cookie moment for Aguilera and Spears. The two pop princesses kissed their Fairy Godmother. In that moment, Madonna’s lips went Rogue in a kiss that would suck the life force from one career – like the Godfather’s Kiss of Death – and breathe new life into the other. As Britney slipped under, Christina took a(nother) hiatus – to bid farewell to her X and say bonjour to Baby Jane.

Four years and a wedding later, Aguilera released Back to Basics in 2006. The bombastic “Ain’t No Other Man” was Christina’s rebirth. She was a woman now, not in the midst of finding herself – but self: found. Think Christina’s Evita, with underlying hints of Ray of Light. She was married, ready to start a family, and with a sound that matured as she did. More than anything this regained the credibility that, for fans and music aficionados, Christina never lost.

http://www.youtube.com/v/rh2Yxp6q2h0&hl=en_US&fs=1&

Christina composed her career and – surprisingly to many – herself this decade. She was a maestro; methodically planning and executing the career of an artist – not so much a celebrity. Where Britney burned in the blinding lights, Christina bowed out and chilled. She had a party-girl stint – but that was dirrty Xtina, and it went along with her persona. She never really let the perception change her character. Through it all, her talent and craft we’re always clear and present. Her career is admirable, and her voice: incomparable.

Coldplay – Oh, Chris Martin and Co. Combine the social activism of U2, the diet of Cher Horowitz, the live stage presence of U2, the aesthetic vibe of Radiohead, the selling power of U2, groupies including Gwenyth Paltrow, Jay-Z, Beyonce, and Madonna, the album structure of U2, average out the music awards won by Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears, add the mainstream appeal of U2 (read: U2’s 80s appeal fast-forwarded to the 2000s), and you’ve got Coldplay.

This British band – “seventh best band in the world” according to their frontman, behind Arcade Fire and Sigur Rios namely – I can’t say too much about that hasn’t already been said. We all know their albums are brilliantly melancholy in a way that somehow makes everyone feel emo – or at least like they’re standing on a London corner on an overcasty London day. They kicked off the decade with 2000’s Parachutes: the uncomfortable shiver that ensued when I heard “Yellow” was sign the first that this would be a troublesome relationship – in a blue-romantic-merrily-melancholy kind of way. Two years later and our collective auditory presence was graced with A Rush of Blood to the Head: as the clock struck 2002 the sonic scientists put me in my place as God put a smile upon my face. The wake of their sophomore effort brought a three year hiatus. As absence – and a 2003 live album – makes the heart grow fonder, 2005’s X&Y put Coldplay on a new plane of rock prominence: it seemed as if waiting was the hardest part; but, if anything, the album was proof that the band could fix you at will – and at the speed of sound. Yet again, after a strong Summer showing, the band hibernated for another three years. 2008 brought Viva La Vida. Just when you thought the boys donated their funny bones to third-world children they hit you with lyrics such as, “For some reason I can’t explain, I know Saint Peter won’t call my name; Never an honest word, but that was when I ruled the world.” Won’t call your name, when you ruled the world – oh Chris, how you do go on…

That brings us to now: Coldplay with a free live album and Christina with a greatest hits album. Aguilera summed up the decade for her and her cavalry – Keeps Gettin’ Better: A Decade of Hits. My honorably mentioned couple are honorable, so I mentioned them. Christina is easily one of the most noted pop musicians of the decade – and tracked the footsteps of the Queen of Pop. Yet, Xtina somehow lacked that X-factor. She kept her sanity. She kept her distance and detachment. Her bubble is so well crafted that it keeps expanding – but will never Pop. Coldplay makes great music – and they are classy gentlemen. Yet, they are like the Arthur Bainbridge to Pop’s Edie Sedgwick: yes, they will court and propose marriage; but in the end they are just too boring. That stability and sanity makes for great world citizens – just not great celebrities. Christina and Coldplay aren’t monsters or mavens – they’re musicians and maestros.