Arts & Entertainment
Back with a ‘Bang’
New Madonna album is upbeat campy fun, but also packs emotional punch with deluxe cuts
It seems to take a few years to fully assess a new Madonna album. That may be true for many recording artists, but there’s always so much excitement and anticipation around a new Madge disc, it’s only after that’s died down a bit can one determine how it stands up to her best projects.
The downside to being such a consistent hitmaker is that she has no “Tapestry,” “Jagged Little Pill” or “Miseducation” to her name. All her albums have several great songs, but there’s always a dud or two — “Words” from “Erotica,” “Mer Girl” from “Ray of Light,” “I Love New York” from “Confessions” or “Spanish Lesson” from “Hard Candy” — that keep her from having a start-to-finish masterpiece. Even “Like a Prayer,” which many consider her most consistent effort, gets derailed slightly by the clunky “Love Song,” a Prince duet.
The new “MDNA,” out this week on new label Interscope after Madonna spent decades at Warner Bros., is refreshingly clunker free. Only a couple tracks — the throwaway “Turn Up the Radio” and nursery rhyme-ish “I’m a Sinner” — sound like they could have been B-sides. As expected, there are several killer batches of smoking dance songs — more on those in a sec — but the biggest surprise is the bonus material on the deluxe edition.
Get the no-frills version and you’re missing out on some mind-blowing stuff. “Beautiful Killer” is the most traditional bonus cut here, an old-fashioned pop song with a strings topcoat, but then things get really interesting. “I Fucked Up” sounds a little ho-hum at first, even though it’s a great idea for a song. It kicks into high gear with a killer middle section that slowly works up a nice lather. “B-day Song” is cute and silly with a late ‘60s vibe. The whole project simmers to a shattering climax with “Best Friend,” a mid-tempo barn burner that beautifully captures the mixed emotions of a shattered relationship courtesy of some of Madonna’s all-time most insightful lyrics and the Benassi production duo.
Madonna, acknowledging (presumably) the complicated relationship she shared with ex-husband Guy Ritchie, sums things up cleverly when she suggests they were “driving with two hands on the clutch.” She gets the anger out elsewhere — on the campy, crunchy “Gang Bang” and rap-doused “I Don’t Give A,” which veers into high drama with its “Carmina Burana”-esque outro. But once the anger subsides, “Friend” is the more cathartic experience, both musically and emotionally.
It didn’t take a genius to realize these two had a complicated marriage — fans sensed they were a mis-match from the “I’m Going To Tell You a Secret” documentary and the last album’s melancholy “Miles Away.” But it’s refreshing to hear the seemingly invincible Madonna address and assess her own disappointments. She’s never so much as acknowledged that her brother wrote an unflattering memoir; at least with her marriage, “MDNA” brings insight and closure. She can pose for glamorous photos, pull off tour acrobatics and craft mindless dance pop til the end of time, but all that resonates more when we have a sense of the woman behind the face, and “MDNA” brings us that.
Though more notable for its eye-popping video, album opener “Girl Gone Wild” is light, catchy fun as is “I’m Addicted,” first single “Give Me All Your Luvin’,” and the aforementioned “Killer.” The Golden Globe-winning ballad “Masterpiece,” the theme from the “W/E” movie Madonna directed, brings things to a lovely finish along with the refreshingly lush “Falling Free,” which doesn’t even have a rhythm track, giving the beat-heavy album a nice change of pace.
It’ll take awhile for all this to sink in, but regardless of whether U.S. radio gives its singles the time of day (though “Luvin” did briefly crack the U.S. top 10), “MDNA” is a resoundingly solid effort. Helmed by producers new (Martin Solveig) and old (William Orbit), “MDNA” is a more unified, less trend-influenced album than “Hard Candy” and that bodes well for its ultimate place in her increasingly vast canon.
The D.C. Front Runners held the 14th annual 5K Pride Run at Congressional Cemetery on Saturday, June 6.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)























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Books
‘Mighty Real’ explores history of LGBTQ music
From Judas Priest to Whitney, something for every taste
‘Mighty Real: A History of LGBTQ Music, 1969-2000’
By Barry Walters
c.2026, Viking
$35/496 pages
Step, step, tap, back step.
Shimmy in a circle, left hand waving over your head, shake your tail feathers, repeat to the beat. Once there was a time when you could do any dance in your sleep, but it’s been a while. So read “Mighty Real” by Barry Walters, and see if your toes don’t tap.

Fifty-seven years after Stonewall, and here we are: LGBTQ musicians still face scrutiny for their sexuality because, says Walters, music isn’t created for gay listeners. No problem: LGBTQ artists and writers have often penned lyrics carefully in order to say what can’t be said, “coding” songs for gay audiences that straight (and ignorant) listeners can dance to and enjoy with apparent obliviousness.
Walters offers “just a few” examples.
Lou Reed sang about trans people in the late ‘60s and offered a rallying song for the Gay Liberation Front in 1972, the latter of which felt like a message to a then-11-year-old Walters. Janis Joplin claimed she was straight, but she had several girlfriends. Motown singers often offered sometimes-ambiguous lyrics.
John Lennon’s hand placement on the back cover of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band made Walters begin to understand that he was different from other boys.
David Bowie is on his list, of course, as is Bette Midler, Elton John, Donna Summer, and Queen. You’ll find Judas Priest here, Green Day, and punk music. The Village People are included in this book, also Grace Jones, Duran Duran, and Cher, Whitney, Melissa, Latifah, and the lyrics from several blockbuster movies.
Two of Prince’s band members were lesbians, and they heavily influenced his albums. Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out” cemented her position in LGBTQ culture, and Michael Jackson’s inclusion here takes much careful consideration.
Read about Olivia Newton-John and the B52s. And then there’s Sylvester, for whom Walters has a soft spot in his heart. Sylvester’s death still makes Walters cry.
In his preface, author and music writer Barry Walters points out that music is what you make it and that it’s interpreted differently by each individual. To that end, this book naturally consists of preferential history and personal opinions about singers, bands, albums, and songs.
Agree or disagree. That’s where much of the appeal lies in “Mighty Real.”
Here, Walters wraps his memories around his choices, giving readers room for their own views, memories, and list making. Music-loving readers might also be surprised to note who’s not on Walters’ list – there aren’t many country performers here, for example, and the overall list focuses entirely on music from roughly 1968 to the year 2000, mostly on the kinds of songs you’ll want at the club or party. Again, discuss, and curate your own playlist.
This is a hefty book, but the chapters are browse-able and generally short enough to read in under five minutes. It’s nostalgic, yet also serious in the history it presents. This is the kind of book you want to leave near your album collection, or wherever you get your tunes. But finding “Mighty Real” is your first step.
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The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington performed “Soul Divas” at the Lincoln Theatre over the weekend. The show featured songs popularized by Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, Gladys Knight, Whitney Houston and more.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)



















































