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Rowdy Clowns with Hearts Painted upon Their Cheek

     Come to the Club, come in to the Club of Love
                     —Madonna, ”Love Without Words”

Or that’s how I heard it come out when I
accidentally—or inadvertently—found my way catching
the entire brand new album, the first one she has released in
six or seven years, I believe, and a sequel to one of her most
popular albums ever.  So, before I even know it, I’ve listened to the
whole of today’s newly released Confessions II.  And like the lyrics of the
3rd, 4th and 5th best songs on either of her albums, I find myself at times
laughing at her silly lyrics.  But also, all the while, and especially with this album,
I am one hundred percent on board, in this case caught up in each subtly
complex, hippy ditty, even and esecially the silly, particularly Madonna-esque

turns of some of the dumbest-sounding lyrics.  One after the other, all of the songs pop up on my YouTube, each song playing in its entirety, as I just listen, in awe of how the album is so smartly and tightly and thematically put together, 

how poignant her lyrics are, how crisp and deceptively-layered each tune is.  Several songs have sparkling resonance with individual songs from this album’s prequel, her Confessions on a Dancefloor.  Much as I do love her and her music and how she’s steadily flown through the zeitgeist ever since I was a teen, 

there are some very integral aspects of a dance-pop tune that she does not have

a lot of talent in order to maintain these standard qualities, some of the most importnt ones she seems incapable of even pulling off.  And yet, her albums are most often brilliant successes.  I am not here to explain this mystery, just point it out.  As noted, it can be debated with ease that she cannot sing, that her lyrics are ridiculous, that it is not that easy for her to focus on a central theme for any album, simplicity rules over muli-faceted parts coming together with the delicate attention or coming together at all within any album or even song, and much of her notorious repetitions within songs and albums come across as redundant or trite for the sake of redundacy and cliche.  So this album sounds literally too good to be a Madonna album, I keep thinking.  But it is (too good and a Madonna album indeed!).  Somewhere in here, there has to have been a joke upon which some clique is rolling their eyes at us in disgust at our ignorance.  But it appears that this lovely collage of dancefloor pop is no joke.  It’s a masterpiece, I think.  A

masterpiece?  From Madonna, who has given us so much, how could we possibly deserve a Madonna masterpiece.  It is not something I ever thought
might come, even though one could argue that several from her decades in the
business have been.  While she might have at times simultaneously been the
butt end of a few jokes during her thus far amazingly
illustrious career.  Again, it has been six or maybe even
seven years since she even put out an album.  And
no one is more representative of each dancefloor’s diary
over the past nearly 50 years, of my lifetime.  Her music has dominated,
with iconic hit after hit filling the radio airwaves, television and internet music
videos, awards ceremonies, cinemas and dancefloors the world over for as

far backas I can remember up to present day.  All the while her controversies and causes could be found discussed in abundance from these and fro other more news-like talky venues. She’d ride the fence that lies between being loved and

hated masterfully, often having a hand in creating whatever was trending at any

particular moment, and doing something that would simultaneously thrill her fans while creating venom and spite among conservatives and other haters,
popping up so often just to seemingly turn something upside down or inside
out, instantaneously repopularizing her own self, paving the way for new 

scrutiny on each hot potato subject along with a devotion to many personal

charity ventures for folks on the fringes, craving something risque or

humanitarian, etc., with many such moments changing how a general populace would forever view a subject matter.  So today is that rare day in pop music history that will likely be once again such a turning point.  And to make things even more riveting (at least to me) it seems that everyone in the industry came

out and did their best, as if simply in celebration of or to ride her coattails 

during the debut of her new phase.  Madonna. It has caught me so off-guard, which I love.  Once again the granny of pop is holding on to the zeitgeist as if

it were the reigns to an elaborate stagecoach.  And I am happy about it.  Happy

for us. For where it takes us.  And hopeful she will gain innumerable new fans in the process.  I am indeed so happy for her.  And I am very much 

looking forward to inhabiting a dance floor again soon.