Every Moment Has A Song

The following are a few lowlights of a review of a recent Madonna concert at Verizon Center in Washington, D.C. reprinted from the Washington Post online:

Madonna came to the stage at 10:30 p.m., 2¹/₂ hours after the posted showtime. The delay disrupted more than babysitting arrangements; arena management was forced to strike a deal with Metro to extend the usual midnight service deadline. Madonna, however, surely benefited financially from the stalling, because some portion of the audience, made up of fans who’d paid from $59 to $390 per ticket, killed time by visiting merchandise booths, at which they could spend an additional $45 on licensed “I’m a Sinner” T-shirts or Madonna-endorsed “Addicted to Sweat” workout DVDs (featuring routines called “Get Wet” and “Dripping Wet”).

Her entrance: With the stage full of buff guys in monk outfits and contortionists on pedestals putting their feet behind their necks, and as a massive smoking golden thurible-shaped object swung to and fro in front of a giant cathedral-like structure while some sort of dense Gregorian chant-sounding noise blared over the public address system, Madonna dropped from the ceiling wearing a black jumpsuit and wielding an assault rifle. The medieval music was then replaced by Madonna moaning, “Oh, my God!” over and over before kicking into her recent techno single, “Girl Gone Wild,” which she shrieked while rubbing pretty much all of her own and her dancers’ body parts as humongous video screens showed what looked like the end of the world. Madonna survived this mini-Armageddon with enough energy to pick up the assault rifle and strafe the crowd one more time before song’s end.

During her rendering of “Gang Bang,” the stage became a seedy motel room in which she chugged whiskey and used more firearms to gun down two generic bad guys. She mounted their carcasses for a theatrical but confusing pelvic thrust routine, yelling “Die b—-!” a whole lot, though it wasn’t clear whether all the lyrics were being sung live. Meanwhile, the video screens showed enough splattered blood to make Quentin Tarantino nauseated.

She put on a majorette’s outfit for “Express Yourself,” and, while a large drum corps swung overhead, twirled a baton, perhaps re-creating moves she used during her days as a high school cheerleader. Alas, before the song was over, Madonna lifted her skirt and dirty danced with the baton. The fans ate it up, just as they ate up her yelling, “Do the bump with your neighbor!” amid all sorts of crotch-grabbing during “Holiday”; her donning a painful-looking metal bra and sashaying down a long runway while reprising “Vogue”; and her pulling down her pants to flash her buns of steel during “Human Nature.”

And from the comments forum:

Regrettably, the Madonna concert was terrible.  The concert started at 10:30 PM… 2 1/2 hours late.  The sound was so bad where we were, you couldn’t understand a single word she said.  Many times I wasn’t sure what song she was playing.  One of the opening scenes showed Madonna having sex with someone while she blew the guy’s brains out with a gun.  She dest’d Lady Gaga by playing “Born This Way” to marching band music.  She mooned the audience with an Obama tattoo on her lower back.  Unprofessional and tasteless are words that come to mind.  But disappointment doesn’t even describe it, more like anger.  What a waste of $500. 

_________________________________________________________________

Seriously, you’re spending 500 bucks on someone who seems to have a love/hate relationship with her audience (she loves your money; she hates you) and refuses to play her old hits? I paid less than half that to see Paul McCartney, who played nearly three hours of hits and well-chosen album tracks, showed affection for his fans, and was the epitome of class throughout. Madonna’s bad taste is topped only by that shown by fans who still spend their money on her.