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Like another pop pioneer, David Bowie, Madonna has always
been something of a musical chameleon, hopping artfully from trend to trend,
leaving bits and pieces of radio-friendly gold in her wake. (Unlike the Thin
White Duke, the Material Girl was born and raised in Bay City, MI, making her
recently acquired Brit accent a pompous joke.) With Confessions
on a Dance
Floor, she and co-producer Stuart Price (of
Les Rhythmes Digitales fame) venture into the world of nu-disco, abandoning the
socio-political pretensions of 2003’s American Life for an all-night house party. It is Madonna’s
purest, most ambitious techno foray to date, and if you can look past the
cringe-inducing lyrics (“I don’t like cities, but I like New York / Other
places make me feel like a dork”), there are hypnotic melodies driving the
pulsing beats of “How High” and the ambient trance of “Future Lovers.” It’s an
uneven mix, though, and there’s enough disposable filler here to make these Confessions more of a diversion than a revelation.
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