I Confess

I’m currently listening to Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance Floor. I just got my copy from Tower Records about an hour ago and now the whole album is in my iPod—all the better to listen to it while driving. Right now I’m enjoying the fact that all of the cuts I’ve heard so far are dance tunes. Her last album, American Life is the Madonna album I’ve listened to the least number of times (once), a tie with the soundtrack to Who’s That Girl?

I really miss the fun Madonna. She’s huffing and puffing to be taken seriously, and I guess for an artist that’s her prerogative. I suppose there are those who’d like her not as the Material Girl but as the Material Mom. Whatever—so long as she doesn’t kabbalah herself to become an immaterial artist.

So far there’s an aural cohesiveness in the songs, but I need to hear the album several times. Aside from the first single “Hung Up” the other songs—while generally danceable—do not leap out and grab me by the ears. Only my feet are reacting, and they’re just gently tapping along. Oh no. In the iPod and MP3 era it’s already quite a feat to craft an album that’s meant to be appreciated as a whole piece and not as a collection of hit singles. I think my ears are getting more and more singles-oriented.

Oh well. I will reserve judgment of her album until a few more listens.