Traditionally, imagery is the use of words to evoke the senses; but certain sounds can have the same effect. On “Ray of Light,” Madonna provides the soundtrack to one of the most iconic visual images: the sun. A euphoric journey through liberation, the electronic, dance-inspired pop anthem marked a moment of personal and professional rebirth for Madonna. Best known as the boundary-pushing “Material Girl,” the legendary diva came down to earth bit, if only for a short time, during her spiritually awakened “Ray of Light” era. The album’s title track perfectly encapsulates the moment —  a comeback anthem.

Watch the “Ray of Light” video, stream it, or grab the album on vinyl.

In celebration of summer, the staff at THE 97 has compiled a playlist containing some of our favorite summer songs, from then and now. Each day we will reveal one song, rotating daily between past and present with pairings from 1998 and 2023, for a total of 97 days/songs. Since we love nostalgia, we’re celebrating summer songs from 1998 as they turn 25, alongside new songs that we feel deserve some shine. Pairings could be thematic, sonic, or based connections between the artists.

Check out our full “THE SUMMER 97 (1998 x 2023)” playlist here

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Momentous life events often yield creative breakthroughs for an artist. On her 1998 opus “Ray of Light,” Madonna combined her newfound appreciation for mystics and electronica to revitalize her sound and image with the most effective and profound reinvention of her chameleonic career. “Nothing Really Matters,” the album’s final single, is a reflective, zen anthem that grapples with karma and maturation. Atop the bouncy, House-inspired EDM track, Madonna muses meditative mantras of motivation with a vocal delivery that is at times om-like. As the track progresses, its tempo and layers build with one goal: liberation via levitation.

Watch the “Nothing Really Matters” video, stream it, or purchase “Ray of Light” on vinyl.

In celebration of summer, the staff at THE 97 has compiled a playlist containing some of our favorite summer songs, from then and now. Each day we will reveal one song, rotating daily between past and present with pairings from 1998 and 2023, for a total of 97 days/songs. Since we love nostalgia, we’re celebrating summer songs from 1998 as they turn 25, alongside new songs that we feel deserve some shine. Pairings could be thematic, sonic, or based connections between the artists.

Check out our full “THE SUMMER 97 (1998 x 2023)” playlist here.

The post 97 Words: “Nothing Really Matters” by Madonna appeared first on THE 97.

I was just shy of 13 when Madonna released American Life, and it became the first Madonna album in my ever-growing music collection. I got my copy two weeks after it was released, for my 13th birthday, alongside The Very Best of Cher and a brand new 5-CD, 2-cassette stereo (which still works, by the way). I was a full-fledged VH1 junkie by this time, and had gotten a solid education in Madonna, her controversies, and the music she’d released over the half-decade leading up to American Life. My formal entry into Madonna’s albums had been years in the making.

I devoured American Life. I wouldn’t realize it until later, but it stands as one of Madonna’s most personal and vulnerable, not to mention cohesive bodies of work. It’s folktronica-tinged pop with deeply introspective lyrics. She not only provides critique on the American life and dream, but also does some significant reflecting on herself, career, love, motherhood, and loss. Listening to it today, with a matured ear and the glimmers of nostalgia sprinkled throughout the listening experience, American Life feels like brilliance in all its honesty.

“Do I have to change my name? Will it get me far?,” she considers on the eponymous opening cut. American Life marked yet another sharp turn for the ever-shape-shifting Madonna. After conquering techno and electronica and touching on country, Madonna found folktronica as she examined the American way of life and looked within herself to create her most introspective record to date. Celebrated by fans and dismissed by many critics, American Life remains a polarizing record from one of music’s biggest names.

At times, American Life looks and at times feels like a rebellion. The imagery of the album features Madonna, dressed militantly, wielding guns, and even imitating the famous shot of Che Guevera on the album’s cover. The entire packaging imitates redacted government documents and wielding an uzi. Yet for all the militant influences of the exterior, it’s actually more of a statement of brutal vulnerability. She juxtaposes her critiques and analyses of the American dream and experience with songs about love and reflection, touching on motherhood and the loss of her own mother.

Madonna crafted almost the entire album alongside Mirwais Ahmadzai, who she began working with on 2000’s Music. In leaning into the folk aesthetic of the album she even learned how to play guitar in the ramp up to the album’s release. And while she doesn’t appear to have performed any of the guitar parts on the album itself, she often played it during the album’s promotional appearances and subsequent tour, the Re-Invention Tour.

The title track also represented another notable moment in Madonna’s career. It’s one of the only times she didn’t push ahead with a controversial visual. The woman who had drawn attention to herself for everything from rolling around on stage in a wedding dress, rocking a cone bra, releasing a sex book, and cavorting with a Black Jesus elected to shelve the song’s music video due to the United States’ entry into war with Iraq.

Make no mistake, war was already raging in Afghanistan in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States. Madonna was aiming to make an anti-war statement, at one point even saying, “at any given moment there’s at least 30 wars going on in this world and I’m against all of them.” However, the entry into Iraq proved to be more significant enough to warrant reconsideration.On April 1 (of all days), Madonna made the following statement:

“I have decided not to release my new video. It was filmed before the war started and I do not believe it is appropriate to air it at this time. Due to the volatile state of the world and out of sensitivity and respect to the armed forces, who I support and pray for, I do not want to risk offending anyone who might misinterpret the meaning of this video.”

Talk about a significant move. Madonna never shied away from controversy. However, to get a fuller sense of what was happening at this time, not long before, The Dixie Chicks faced severe backlash in the face of critical comments of President George W. Bush and the war. Though the reshot video is more tame, it doesn’t detract from the messaging of the song.

“American Life” sets the tone for the album to come. It’s a touch flippant at moments, but delivers a crisp commentary on the American experience, interwoven with her own experiences. She recalls the numerous extremes she’s tried, yielding very mixed results. There’s also the revelatory case of the literal “fuck it”’s that she catches mid-record, which precedes the rap verse to end all rap verses. Is it absurd? Yes. But maybe it’s supposed to be. What better way to mock the American experience and dreams than to have a 40-something mother of two rapping about her soy latte, Mini Cooper, and yoga?

And if you didn’t think she had street cred after that, think again, and listen again. Better yet, spin the Missy Elliott remix, which laced Madonna with a dose of Virginia hip hop flavor. The verse actually lands much better over the rap-oriented beat, and Missy drops some fire herself in addition to her ever-underrated production contributions. Regardless of the rest of the verse, Madonna’s closing line in the rap, “I’m just living out the American dream, and I just realized that nothing is what it seems,” does have a certain resonance to it.

That bar also serves as a perfect precursor for the continued commentary on “Hollywood.” She offers a flippant take on the glamour and ghoulishness of the city of dreams. “There’s something in the air in Hollywood,” she muses. Even that can be interpreted two ways: either the air of opportunity and success, or the literal toxicity in the air that makes the LA environment infamous.

She encourages shining your light, but offers the reminder, “this time it’s got to be good… cause you’re in Hollywood.” She even offers a brief but searing commentary on the music industry, by complaining “music stations always play the same song.” The song serves as a warning, and at the end of the video, she simply unplugs the television responsible for the music and finds relief in the silence.

As she continues to critique the American dream, Madonna also offers commentary on herself. On the self-deprecating midtempo “I’m So Stupid,” she reflects on her own past mistakes and naïveté. The song, which begins with an acoustic introduction, gets pierced by an over-processed note that makes it hard to discern where Madonna ends and the computer begins.

Things take a notable turn after the album’s first three tracks, and Madonna points further inward. “Love Profusion”’s dismissive opening line, “There are too many questions,” is striking over strumming guitars, which expand into driving beat with electronic flourishes. She’s stuck, but still defiant as ever, making the first of a few Christian-dismissals with “There is is no resurrection.” However even that could be taken to simply be saying “you only live once.” Madonna has a knack for layering meaning within her lyrics.

She cleverly shrouds herself in Auto-Tune adjacent vocal effects on “Nobody Knows Me,” as she issues warnings of the world (which is “a setup”), and dismissals of people’s views (“I won’t let a stranger give me a social disease”). It makes for a striking, yet satisfying contrast.

“Nothing Fails,” which sits squarely in the middle of the album, is a tremendous love song and serves as the album’s glorious centerpiece. The song was written by Guy Sigsworth and Jem Griffiths, who produced a Dido-esque demo under the name “Silly Thing.” Listening to that demo against the final product showcases how Madonna’s small lyrical changes and the trio of Madonna, Mirwais and Mark “Spike” Stent on the boards transform the record into something fully her own. Against “Don’t Tell Me”-esque strumming Madonna declares “I’m not religious, but I feel so moved, makes me want to pray.” With a choir that follows, it’s a clear-cut nod to “Like A Prayer,” albeit a less cheeky version. Absent are the double entendres (and music video) that made it so controversial, and what remains establishes a deeper emotional connection.

On two back-to-back ballads, “Intervention” and “X-Static Process” she’s at her most vulnerable. She exudes uncertainty on both songs, but in different capacities. She’s conscious of the changes love will affect on “Intervention.” She’s in the throes of love at the tiny hands of her son Rocco, fully confident in love’s ability to ultimately solve and save everything. It’s a fantastically crafted pop song, with just enough percussion to tap your feet to, a chorus that’s catchy, and a hard-hitting bridge that opens with the gut-punching “In the blink of an eye, everything can change.”

She continues that vulnerability on “X-Static Process,” where she departs from pop sensibilities and instead leans into a poetic folk style for this confessional. She opens the song in front of acoustic guitars with a meek vocal. “I’m not myself when you’re around,” she confesses. The song is a rumination on her mistakes in previous relationships. The song ruminates on the consequences of giving too much power to men (and Jesus/organized religion). She gives men too much power, and in doing that finds herself in an existential crisis. It’s only through developing her own self awareness that she’s able to realize her errors and reaffirm herself.

Though the rapping on “American Life” is largely panned and mocked, Madonna dropped another rap verse on the deeply personal “Mother And Father.” That application proves much more effective in both delivery and content. The whimsical video game-sounding keyboard makes for a much better backdrop for a rap verse. While grappling with the magnitude of the loss, she bluntly describes how she “cried and cried all night and day” after her mother’s death when she was 5. “Oh mother, why aren’t you here with me? No one else saw the things that you could see,” she laments. When she focuses on her father, she concedes how she misconstrued his reaction to her mother’s death. What she initially interpreted as lack of emotion was really just his own processing of grief and enduring his broken heart.

The only significant misstep of American Life boils down to a sequencing decision. The penultimate cut is Madonna’s James Bond theme “Die Another Day,” which was released in late 2002. Though the song was a top 10 hit (making it the most successful on the album then and now; it’s the most-streamed track), and has a sonic profile that’s at home amongst some of these songs, it simply doesn’t fit thematically. It’s also sequenced amongst the album’s otherwise vulnerable and introspective second half, sandwiched ballads about parental grief and life. Though its sonic profile isn’t out of place on the album, the quick tempo and topic-matter don’t fit amidst Madonna’s. It’s a jarring disruption amidst a series of otherwise beautiful and honest expressions. It would have been more apt to simply flip it with the closing track and tack it on at the end and as a bonus track.

She quickly returns to that introspection on the album’s somber closing cut, “Easy Ride.” It serves as a perfect encapsulation for the album. It evolves from an acoustic record, into a trudgery of melancholic determination thanks to an orchestra and evolving complex beat, that at times is throbbing and at others hard and crackling. “I don’t want an easy ride,” she reveals. “What I want, is to work for it.” It’s a powerful statement that resonates differently when considering the commercial deficit that followed American Life. It also resonates when considering the extra work she put in in the weeks around the album’s release to create a new video for her lead single.

Despite scrapping the “American Life” video, Madonna did find a way to leap into some controversy before the American Life album cycle was over. Though it seems like a universe away, in the months following the album’s release, Madonna delivered an unforgettable performance on the MTV Video Music Awards stage, along with a cast of now-legendary women. Alongside Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, Madonna and her then-GAP collaborator Missy Elliott performed a medley of “Like A Virgin” and “Work It” that was centered around “Hollywood.”

The performance, in which Spears and Aguilera dressed as brides akin to Madonna’s VMAs debut and Madonna dressed as the groom, led to what only needs to be recounted today as “the kiss.” It was one of the most talked-about moments in the show’s history, and today feels like child’s play on the spectrum of controversies. With some different editing, it also might have been an even bigger deal, if that’s possible. Between Madonna kissing Britney and Christina (who’s kiss got nearly forgotten), whoever was in charge of angles had a camera right on Britney’s ex Justin Timberlake. Were that shot not featured, the term might be “the kisses.”

In late 2003, Madonna expanded the album cycle further and released Remixed and Revisited. The 7-track EP compiles four remixes from American Life, an extended version of her GAP collaboration with Missy Elliott, and the aforementioned MTV VMAs performance, as well as a b-side from 1994’s Bedtime Stories.

Depending on who you ask and how you choose to examine the facts, American Life is either a massive flop or a massive triumph. From a chart perspective, it certainly leans towards the former. It marked the beginning of Madonna’s absence from the Hot 100’s summit, which still continues 20 years later. But even that data can be examined from another angle. All five of the album’s singles hit number one on Billboard’s Dance Charts, adding five more to Madonna’s record-setting now-50 number ones on the chart. That’s no easy feat.

Throughout the album, Madonna sounds more herself than ever before. Relying on sparse, folktronic productions, gives her the space to be more raw and honest than she’s ever been. And she shows that she’s still not afraid to stir up some controversy on her own terms, and question the American ideals and way of life.

American Life closed a chapter for Madonna. She’d been careening towards this level of introspection since Ray Of Light, and would go on to squarely abandon it two years later when she returned with the massively successful Confessions on A Dancefloor, led by the ABBA-sampling disco-pop fodder of “Hung Up.” Gone were the ballads and deep reflection, (and military garb and dark hair), and instead here danced Madonna, with red hair and pink leotard. Though she’s found herself in reflection since, nothing has ever matched the depths she reached on American Life.

Stream American Life:

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The intimate, residency-style tour marked my first time seeing Madonna live. I wasn’t fond of the namesake body of work, but I was excited to see what Madonna would bring to the stage. Since phones had to be locked away in order to get into the venue, there was no footage or photography to hint at what Madonna had in store for the audience. The show was a powerful statement piece, heightened by the lack of digital distractions. The staging and musical arrangements of the show brought context to songs that were strange and off-putting on Madame X. Sure, the album comes off convoluted at times, but it’s her own way of speaking up about the issues in today’s world. It was the first time I witnessed a tour that truly upstaged and outpaced an album. Unfortunately, the tour fails to translate stage to screen and disturbs this artist’s impact.

Madonna touted this film for over a year. With all that time spent, it’s reasonable to expect a better product. Ironically, the biggest issue with this film is the choppy edit. It rarely holds a single shot for more than three seconds. This chaotic editing creates a frantic final product that feels more like a montage from an awards show or a commercial teaser, not a full-length performance presentation. It’s extremely difficult to get a grasp on what’s happening throughout the show. The film sources footage from multiple nights of performances (all from her run in Lisbon), as well as a series of re-shoots that took place earlier this year. Sloppy cuts during songs make it abundantly and annoyingly clear that the footage is from multiple performances. This doesn’t feel like a cohesive product.

Classics like “Vogue,” were accompanied by fantastic stagings, but don’t land when the camera refuses to stay still long enough to give viewers an idea of what’s actually happening on any part of the stage. Every time you try to focus on something, the shot changes and throws you off, sometimes cracking open to reveal a split-screen, or other times doubling back with slow-motion sequences. Madonna didn’t have the luxury of controlling what the audience focused on during the performances, but she gave us a lot of choices. Here, she tries to show you everything, all the time, without honing in on one thing. It’s hectic, haphazard, and hellish.

Things get a touch better during “Batuka,” which was an illuminating moment of the show. The confusing record from Madame X gains valuable context thanks to a series of messages flashed across the screens from the song’s music video explaining the roots of the batuque music driving the song. With that understanding, the song makes sense, and lands better than it does on the album. The live vocal (though auto-tuned to hell and back) compliments the raw tribal percussion provided by the Batukadeiras Orchestra.

When the stage switches over to what she refers to as her fado club (fado is a Portuguese genre of music) before “Killers Who Are Partying,” it’s a beautiful setup, and highlights how pieces of the set evolve throughout the performance. It’s difficult to appreciate the fado club set because the stage is never seen in full for more than three straight seconds. That staging is part of what helped make these performances stick, and helped lines such as “I will be gay, if the gay are burned,” land without as much cringe. At times it feels more like a montage than a straight cut performance.

There’s also the very poorly-timed inclusion of an exchange with Dave Chappelle, who’s in the audience. Madonna sits with him to chat, and informs the audience that she always tries to call him “the next James Baldwin.” In light of his latest homophobia and transphobia-filled Netflix special, which is wrapped up in the bow of Chappelle proclaiming himself a TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist), this was probably not the best week for Madonna to compare him to the unapologetically homosexual Baldwin.

Not Madonna calling Dave Chappelle “the next James Baldwin” in the middle of the Madame X concert film. pic.twitter.com/T9YjO1xV0J

— Andrew (The Aretha Version) (@SoulAtlantic) October 8, 2021

She does get it right, spectacularly, for the show’s most compelling moment. A screen descends as dancers line up and perform what is referred to as “Breathwork.” Heavy breaths dictate their movements, while Madonna’s voice washes over in reflection. It leads into “Frozen” which begins with a young woman projected on the screen in black and white. She opens her hand and a light illuminates an understated and softly-lit Madonna seated sideways behind the screen. As the chorus begins, the mystery figure runs her fingers through her hair and is finally revealed to be Madonna’s oldest daughter, Lourdes. The power of this performance lies in the juxtaposition of a seated Madonna and her daughter overlaid on the screen. Thankfully, the choppy editing relents for a moment and allows the show’s peak to properly reach home audiences.

The magnitude of this performance can’t be understated. “Frozen” wasn’t written explicitly about the breakup between Lourdes’ father and Madonna, but she told The New York Times that the song is about “retaliation, revenge, hate, and regret,” and it was written in the shadow of their breakup. With that in mind, it’s breathtaking to witness this song find a new layer of meaning: a plea from mother to daughter. Madonna looks at her daughter with despair as she delivers the line, “If I lose you, my heart would be broken.” The words reverberate like anvils pummeling the ground as they transform to describe the volatility of a parent-child relationship. “If I could melt your heart,” she ponders, and at the lyric’s final repetition Lourdes’ “m-o-m” knuckle tattoo flashes across the screen as the spotlight on Madonna goes dark. It is one of the most immense performances Madonna has ever given.

Unfortunately, it’s right back to the chaotic editing once the performance ends, further disrupted by a hollow mix on “Come Alive,” one of the only records that’s better on the album than it is in this performance. And disappointingly, the final act of the show cuts the Tracy Young Remix of “Crave.” This fantastic, disco-drenched remix was a highlight when it debuted on the tour, and is the only song regularly included in the setlist to be excluded from this film and album.

This film warrants a re-cut. With better editing this could be the compelling statement piece Madonna intended it to be, in a period where she has shifted back towards making music with meaning, so much so that she felt it warranted words from James Baldwin to bookend the performance. If nothing else, be sure not to miss the performance of “Frozen.” It’s one for the books.

Madame X is now streaming on Paramount+, and the live album is available to stream and purchase digitally.

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Celebrity memoirs and autobiographies are two of my favorite genres because they represent a marriage of literature and non-literature entertainment. It is not always a perfect marriage seeing as some celebrity memoirs suffer from lack of ambition to be anything other than an arbitrary dabbling into book writing. Sometimes it could be a complete waste of time if it tells you things you’ve already seen in VH1 Behind the Music, the Biography channel or E! Channel. There are some truly juicy emails to be had from My Life With My Sister Madonna, but as for the rest of the book there’s not much else that you wouldn’t get from Wikipedia.

One such juicy email is this:

‘…I gave up my fucking life to help make you the evil queen you are today… 15 years listening to your bitching, egotistical rantings, mediocre talent, and a lack of taste that would stun the ages… every ounce of talent you have, you have sucked dry from me and the people around you… I certainly have never worked for you for the money… now you accuse me of lying and cheating you… you’ve got some fucking nerve… as usual… you have lost all sense of reality… I guess I always thought that one day you’d see my worth and behave accordingly… but you never did… a little fucking respect was all I ever wanted from you and you couldn’t even manage that.’

Other than that, there is nothing in Christopher Ciccone’s memoir that could have held anyone’s interest except the parts where he talks about his life with his sister Madonna. Sometimes, he talks about his life as a gay man struggling with his sexuality, and as an occasional cocaine snorter who sometimes parties with his friends Gwyneth Paltrow, Demi Moore, Naomi Campbell, Trudi Styler and countless other celebrities (all of whom became friends of his via a Madonna connection). He could have been the greatest memoirist who ever lived – on top of being a talented art director, dresser, artist, interior designer and stage director – but the general public would still be flocking to this because of Madonna. That is sad, but that is how the world works.

According to Christopher, M is not a very nice sister (although she can be if she feels like it). She has mistreated him and it was  not the sort of maltreatment that a fragile little brother could handle. As her personal dresser during the Blonde Ambition and Girlie Show tours, he had the lovely task of picking up her sweaty underwear and had the distinguished position of being the object of a pop superstar’s super insults, if and when he’s being slow or when PS just feels like it. She underpaid him for services as decorator and tour director and, at one point, was even the cause of his financial ruin. Madonna’s abuse towards him is endless; some of it may come off truly appalling, some not so much (eg, she doesn’t pay for his hotel suite; she gives him a less prominent seat in the Madonna-Guy wedding reception, etc.). But even without this ‘tell-all’, you probably could have guessed that Madonna may not be a very nice woman, that she is imperfect, and that she may in fact be a total bitch.

Actually, she has admitted countless times of being a total bitch. Aside from not being a very nice woman, you probably have already known that Madonna is also an egomaniac, an attention whore, a sinner, lover of sex and profanity, boastful, proud, etc., etc. She is of course widely regarded as a queen of the performance industry and she is merely acting according to expectations (and because she feels like it and/or that’s who she is). These are not wild guesses and blind accusations; these are things she admits in her songs:

1. “I’m a Sinner”
2. “I Don’t Give a”
3. “Unapologetic Bitch”
4. “I’m So Stupid”

But still, she did not deserve this.

The hurt that comes with being the brother of one of the pop’s biggest ego must truly be galactic. It is the sort of ego that is hard to eclipse and Christopher should have known this. He wanted to shine without Madonna casting her big, fat shadow over him, but it’s just impossible. He wanted his worth and talent to be acknowledged without anyone using the M word. He accused his sister of sucking the life out of him, but the thing is, Madonna really did put him in the map – the map of a world where Madonna is a multimillionaire super megastar and he is… who he is. This memoir is a whole lot of ‘My sister is so, soooo mean!’ but without that mean sister, there would be no sold out shows to art direct and no memoir to make some money off of. What he wanted most of all was Madonna’s respect and love, but Madonna does not give any of these because bitch, she’s Madonna.

Christopher is not a great writer, and to his everlasting credit, he never claims to be one (he claims to have the design taste that suits the taste of a pop super queen and there is no reason to doubt this). The most riveting parts in the book are those where Madonna is present. When she’s not, book turns lethargic. The constant name-dropping is the least of its problems, even. Some of the name drops, though, are truly worthless. I don’t know how the meet-and-greet with Liza Minnelli and Peggy Lee contributes to the my-sister-is-mean narrative, but they’re there, along with several others.

Reading about Christopher’s rants, Madonna’s worst crime, it seems, is her massive ambition to become the greatest pop star in the planet. And that’s what makes this memoir so limp and so… mean. Divadom is not achieved by an easygoing persona. It comes with horrific tales of ‘baskets of puppies in a lavender, strictly-no-freesias suite’ and plenty of other diva demand anecdotes, and a couple of bruised egos along the way.

If you read this because you wanted to know what life is like being Madonna’s sib, it is this: It’s the kind of life that sometimes involves drunken nights with Demi Moore and Kate Moss, backstage pass to Madonna movies, and front row seats to Madonna concerts and documentaries. Sometimes you even appear in them. Sure, Madonna will exploit some of your family’s history, and she will stage fake reunions to serve her fauxcumentary, but it is a great life all in all. This is a book that Christopher felt he needed to write so he could tell the world that he is his own person. As a person with a severely bruised ego, this book’s purpose is to salve that ego, but it doesn’t give you plenty of reason to think that this is necessary. The world can only take one scene-stealing, egomaniac Ciccone and that position has already been taken.

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