Feel the noise

To: Sarah Liss
From: Andre Mayer
Subject: Hard Candy

Hey Sarah,

I’m of the opinion that a quarter-century after she bounded into pop stardom, a new album by Madonna is still an event. I fully admit that her public persona has become risible — and she’s adopted a rather ghastly skin tone of late — but there’s no questioning Madge’s pop savvy.

I thought her last outing, Confessions on a Dance Floor, was devastatingly good — better than Ray of Light, even. (It helps that I’m a sucker for anything in an electro-disco vein.) I had reservations about the first single, Hung Up, but I got over them. Confessions was lush, fizzy, melodic and unrelenting, like a night out dancing.

My first reaction to hearing Four Minutes, the leadoff single from Hard Candy, was: predictable. It’s not the sound that’s predictable so much as the personnel. It’s a collaboration with Justin Timberlake and Timbaland, who are damn near unavoidable these days. But then I did a reality check: Madge has always sought out the hottest producers of the day (e.g. Shep Pettibone, William Orbit), and it has never undermined her songwriting authority. Four Minutes’ fat, synth-brass riff sounds even more majestic on the album, nestled as the song is between the nimble Candy Shop and the springy Give It 2 Me. The latter has a faux-ska shuffle that I found inane on the first few spins. I’ve since done an about-face: it’s disarmingly playful. In fact, I’d say the first third of the album is pretty flawless. What are your impressions?

(Also worth pondering: is it just me, or does the chorus to Four Minutes remind you of Europe’s The Final Countdown?)

A

To: Andre Mayer
From: Sarah Liss
Subject: I want Candy?

Hey Disco Stu —

I’m not surprised by your fondness for the booty-shaking Confessions on a Dance Floor. Being more of a Ray Of Light girl myself, I felt a bit lukewarm about Ms. Ciccone’s last album. That said, Confessions was certainly a step up from the travesty that was American Life (let us strike that album from the record). Hard Candy, while no Ray of Light, inches further toward the high note I’m praying Madonna goes out on when she releases the album that’ll signal her inevitable “retirement” from the music biz. (Didja know Hard Candy is her last contractually obligated studio album for Warner?)

Yes, a new Madonna release is indeed an event. She’s a sharp enough businesswoman to ensure that. Even if you’d wanted to avoid Hard Candy like the plague, Team Madonna has made it impossible, what with the ubiquity of that blasted Sunsilk commercial featuring Four Minutes (totally a Final Countdown reference in there, btw) and Madge dancing in holographic ecstasy.

But even after hearing it approximately 12 trillion times, I’m still not sold on the single. Our girl’s vocals sound phoned in, floating aimlessly in the mix and overpowered by that wanky brass and Justin Timberlake’s counter-vocal. And while I dig the springy beats and come-hither melody on Candy Shop, the spoken-word bit (“My sugar is raw/sticky and sweet”) made me gag.

I actually think Hard Candy picks up steam midway through. The spidery synths and ominous thump of the Neptunes-produced Heartbeat make up for the initial Promiscuous vibe I felt; on second listen, it feels closer to the Madonna who used to shimmy at the Danceteria than anything she’s done in years. And though it’s no shocker, my favourite tracks here are the down-tempo ballads. I like Madge best when she flirts with the unexpected, and capping off her old-school dance floor workout with a glorious blaze of strings (the S&M-referencing Voices) was a stunning twist.

Lemme guess: you can’t stand the slow songs here, right?

S

To: Sarah Liss
From: Andre Mayer
Subject: Can’t slow down

(Warner Music Canada)

Well, there’s little on Hard Candy that would qualify as a ballad. I suppose The Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You is close, but it’s too tense and twitchy — it would make a lousy slow dance. I agree, however, that Voices is an unexpected and magnificent closer. The sighing strings remind me of two underappreciated Madonna ballads, Bad Girl and Oh Father.

As a general rule, I prefer Madge worked-up and peppy rather than slow and contemplative — largely because she ain’t much good at contemplation. She may be the least thought-provoking provocateur ever. As you pointed out, the recurring food motif on Hard Candy is a little icky, but only if you choose to dwell on it. I stopped listening to her words long ago, and I am happy to report that ignorance is indeed bliss.

Speaking of bliss, Heartbeat and Dance 2night are disco fabulous.

Overall, I love the sense of play and adventurism here: Heartbeat is sly and Madonna’s collabo with Kanye West, Beat Goes On, is a delightful oddity — I think it’s the glockenspiel that does it. Do you think Madge is steering the experimentation, or do you think it’s her producers (Timbaland, Neptunes, etc.)?

A

To: Andre Mayer
From: Sarah Liss
Subject: Candy and the backbeat

OK, so maybe categorizing Hard Candy’s more languorous tracks as “ballads” was a bit of a stretch. But in my world, the ballad is a multifaceted thing. Sure, I would’ve hated shuffling to the strains of Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You at my high school spring fling, but that “tense and twitchy” quality you identify is what makes it work. As the music-box intro fades out and the giant-stomp beats rumble in, I feel like Madonna’s a lone survivor, assessing the wreckage (of a relationship or — though it’s a stretch — a civilization) that surrounds her. Can’t you hear the tune being played over the closing credits of a cautionary post-apocalyptic thriller?

That said, I’ll grant that she often doesn’t seem to get what she’s singing about. Her few poignant songs — Live To Tell, I’ll Remember and my sentimental favourite, This Used To Be My Playground — all address the same subjects: nostalgia, lost innocence and regret. If there’s any truth to Andrew Morton’s salacious Madonna biography (uh, not that I’ve pored over it or anything), those are the fundamental themes of Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone Ritchie’s formative years, what a pop psychologist would pinpoint as her “root” issues. On Hard Candy, the plaintive-with-a-side-of-handclaps Miles Away, a reflection on complicated long-distance relationships, is the only time I believe that Madge believes in what she’s singing about.

Which brings me right to that whole ship-steering thing. I think the Material Girl is a full-on control freak who manages every facet of her career. That includes being so wholly in tune with commercial viability within a particular cultural climate that she’s able to hand the reins to her hit-making collaborators. Sure, Madonna has the final say, but I have no doubt that with Hard Candy (as with the rest of her canon), she hand-picked the hottest producers, provided vague idea-sketches and let Timbaland, Timberlake and the rest of the young bucks determine the specifics of her sound.

That still doesn’t really explain the bizarre misstep Spanish Lesson. It’s a self-explanatory Translation For Dummies exercise in which Madge rattles off phrases en Espanol over an awkwardly spiced pseudo-flamenco guitar riff. This isn’t even the endearing remedial Spanish of La Isla Bonita. Apparently she was “inspired” by a regional dance craze, but I still don’t get it. Any thoughts?

S

To: Sarah Liss
From: Andre Mayer
Subject: The lessons of Madonna

(Madonna performs at the Live Earth concert at Wembley stadium in London in 2007. (Carl de Souza/AFP/Getty Images)

We agree: Spanish Lesson is lame. I’m always dubious when a song starts with staccato Spanish guitar. (I blame the Gipsy Kings.) But that’s the album’s only serious stumble.

There’s no doubt Timbaland and the Neptunes make their presence felt. (The latter, in particular, have long had an aversion to the low end. Similarly, the Timbaland-produced Four Minutes is all in the mid-range.) But what strikes me about Hard Candy is how effortless the melodies are. Maybe it’s because she’s never been a wailer like Mariah or Beyoncé, but Madge has always invested in tunes. Take Miles Away: not exactly a world-beater as far as pop songs go. The melody is clean, uncomplicated — and it’s now living permanently in my brain. Avant-garde pop can be thrilling, but so can a simple idea, simply executed.

Overall, Hard Candy is damnably smart — it offers a mix of adventurous forays with more dependable club fare. No doubt, this was a calculated strategy; the Material Girl, as you pointed out, leaves nothing to chance. People squawk about Madonna’s endless reinvention, but if the result is great tunes, the debate seems moot. She’s awesomely consistent.

Hard Candy is going to sound rad on the car stereo this summer.

Favourite tracks: Four Minutes, Candy Shop, Dance 2night, Voices 
Rating: *** ½ (out of five)

To: Andre Mayer
From: Sarah Liss
Subject: Sticky and sweet

Hrm. While I’m with you on the ear-worm tip — I’ve been battling a Madonna-hook infestation in my mind for the last while — I have to fervently disagree with your suggestion that the melodies on Hard Candy feel effortless. In fact, my chief issue with this album is precisely how calculated it seems.

Sure, Hard Candy is a collection of expertly produced tracks with an admirable range. I dig the way it ricochets between slinky '70s disco with bells and whistles and a neat soupçon of Prince (Dance 2night), ornate cinematic pop (Voices) and oddball club cuts. But, in the same way that I struggle with how distant Madge sounds in that lead single, I don’t get a sense that she’s entirely present throughout the bulk of the album. I hear her directing from on high, revelling in the fine craftsmanship of her minions, waiting for her cue to offer up a vocal that’ll connect with the kids and sell scads of records.

There’s nothing wrong with this approach. Delegating the responsibility for the sonic particulars to au courant hotshots is likely how Madonna manages to stay so relevant. And it doesn’t mean that I dislike Hard Candy overall.

But the lack of an inherent Madonna-ness to the disc means that none of these tracks sound as classic as, say, Holiday or Like A Prayer — or even Ray Of Light. I felt the same way about Hung Up, a decent pop single with minimal personality. Ms. Ciccone certainly doesn’t leave anything to chance, but the most dynamic tracks are often about taking major risks. I have no problem with the woman’s perpetual reinvention; it feels like a cornerstone of her character. In her prime, though, Madonna was willing to flirt with controversy and disaster — even if there was a chance she’d piss off fans. I wish I could hear a little bit more of that — more of her — on Hard Candy.

Favourite tracks: Heartbeat, Voices, Dance 2night
Rating: ***