Albums: I’m Breathless - Music from and Inspired by the Film Dick Tracy (1990), The Immaculate Collection (1990), I’m Going to Tell You a Secret (2005), Celebration (2009)
Songwriters/producers: Madonna/Shep Pettibone

vogue /voʊg/
–noun
1. Popular acceptance or favour; popularity:

March 20, 1990: Madonna releases Vogue; until Hung Up tops the charts of over 45 countries in 2005, it is her most successful single worldwide.
April 12-August 5, 1990: Madonna embarks on her Blond Ambition World Tour, playing 57 shows in Japan, North America and Europe. Widely considered one of the most iconic tours of all time, its combination of religious and sexual imagery also courts controversy when the Pope calls for a boycott of her performances in Rome.
May 22, 1990: I’m Breathless - Music from and Inspired by the film Dick Tracy is released, featuring Madonna originals alongside songs by famed musical theater composer Stephen Sondheim. It sells over five million copies worldwide, and Sondheim wins an Academy Award for Best Original Song for Sooner or Later.
June 30, 1990: Dick Tracy finally hits cinemas after years in development. Warren Beatty directs, produces and stars as the titular character; Madonna has a supporting role as nightclub singer Breathless Mahoney. Despite mixed reviews, the film wins three Oscars between seven nominations, and is a commercial success.
November 13, 1990: The Immaculate Collection, Madonna’s first greatest hits compilation, is released. It goes on to become one of the highest-selling albums in history, with over 30 million copies sold worldwide.
May 10, 1991: Truth or Dare (known outside the U.S. as In Bed with Madonna), a film documenting Madonna’s Blond Ambition World Tour, is released, becoming the sixth-highest earning documentary of all time.

Vogue is, amongst many, many things, the sound of a woman on top of the world. But there’s no sense of arrival, no self-congratulatory platitudes; in fact, not one “I” in the entire song. No, what makes Vogue her crowning glory is that it is entirely empowering - both her most refined, universal “express yourself” call to her audience, and a true tribute to her predecessors, yesterday’s icons. Yet even without a single mention of Madonna herself, it’s still very much about her - for the true measure of her achievements in seven years of fame is that no one else could have convincingly written, sung or performed Vogue whilst coming off as even more of an icon than the Hollywood giants mentioned.

The embodiment of “pop” in every sense of the word, Vogue is also a celebration of the entire concept of popular culture and its power to move people, both literally and figuratively. For what is the greater art - an epic that touches a few people profoundly, or a brief, fleeting moment that reaches the entire world? Madonna would answer with disregard - having proven over and over that complex artistic statements and zeitgeist -level popularity can go hand in hand.

The cultural backdrop upon which Vogue (both song and dance) was built was not an especially happy time. The late ’80s was particularly devastating for many of Madonna’s most dedicated fans in the gay community, and the deaths of close friends, especially her dance teacher Christopher Flynn and artist Keith Haring, made AIDS a very personal tragedy. Her response was to include safe sex educational inserts with the Like a Prayer album, and to dedicate the first Blond Ambition date in New York to Haring’s memory, donating all proceeds to AIDS charities. But the most anyone could do to help would never have been enough.

Her artistic response, however, varied - though Spanish Eyes was a poignant, sympathetic prayer for the suffering, Vogue urges the listener not to dwell on it. LGBT magazine Advocate may have deemed “Madonna’s dance tracks… a necessary escape that was nearly transcendental during an era when our community was seeing more than its share of heartbreak and horror”, but while the archetypal modern depiction of dance may be that of clubbing in various levels of inebriation, dance to Madonna has never merely been about escapism. Stemming from her classical training, it represents first and foremost a form of self-improvement and artistic expression - confessions on a dance floor, not hedonistic partying. Madonna offers an empathy through dance, an emotional resolve that goes beyond mere escapist entertainment - leave that to other pop tarts. Great art exists to reflect upon, to empower the person experiencing it - and hence, Vogue cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering and hardships in life. If anything, they make the best of times even more glorious in contrast. She once sang “forget about the bad times” - but here, it’s “look around”. Don’t ignore them.

The utter perfection of Vogue’s title becomes even more apparent when considering its musical applications - though hardly the first house-influenced song to hit the mainstream, Shep Pettibone’s beats breathed new life into the drum machine after its omnipresence during the ’80s. Though that sound, itself a product of the trends of its time, imprinted itself irremovably on the pop of the next few years - heard everywhere from Saint Etienne to C + C Music Factory - the rest of Vogue is inimitably unique. Such minute-long, breathlessly anticipatory intros are virtually outlawed in pop - and with the out-of-nowhere rap and soaring final chorus, the song is peak after peak of the pure elation Madonna so consistently delivered in the ’80s. Vogue ushered in the ’90s with an unshakeable confidence that’s odd in hindsight, considering the fallout from the Erotica period that followed. But perhaps Madonna knew she’d by then taken dance-pop joy and her popularity to the limit. With her one musical consistency, the desire to never repeat herself, maybe it was best to close the first chapter of her career with a bang, and move on, whatever the cost.

2. Something in fashion, as at a particular time:

Having been originally written as a mere b-side to Keep It Together (but universally recognised by Warner executives as deserving more), Vogue is often cited as being out of place amongst Madonna’s Dick Tracy contributions on I’m Breathless. But as far removed as its house beats are from the authentically jazzy period pieces, their overall aims of glorifying pre-rock ‘n’roll-era imagery are similar. In fact, Dick Tracy is a film utterly obsessed with such style (perhaps to the detriment of its plot) - its unique visual presentation remains loyal to the original comics whilst at the same time being unlike anything else seen in cinema. Vogue aims for the same kind of retro; a tribute to the fashions of yesterday through a modern lens (courtesy of technological advances), with one major difference - Vogue doesn’t just imitate the 1930s. Revivalism without reinterpretation is inevitably inferior to the original - and Vogue was utterly current, a cultural high point of how retro should be done; not a recreation, but a celebration of the past.

It’s populist. Superficial. Style over substance. A passing fad. Talentless. Artless. It promotes sexual promiscuity and moral deviance amongst today’s easily influenced youth.

Those are all criticisms that’ve at one point been made of Madonna, pop music in general and many of the above stars. In such a context of cultural superiority complexes, Vogue becomes a statement of defiance, a defence of the mainstream as a delivery for the farthest-reaching, most broadly affecting of art. The rap effectively canonises the greats of Hollywood’s golden age; proof in hindsight that fame justified by talent sticks, and gross critical underestimations do not. Only (ironically) the most superficial could fail to draw parallels - for who else had the stardom, the cultural influence to have such a generous tribute serve as their own coronation? Such names hardly towered over Madonna as early as 1990, let alone twenty years later. On the other hand, Madonna is still too divisive a figure to (perhaps ever) be viewed so fondly by all of popular culture, but it’s just possible that - with Lauren Bacall sadly the only one still living - she has surpassed their fame. But that’s beside the point - with the immeasurable contributions of so many greats to the cultural iconography, everyone wins.

To have incredible style is to have substance. For that and much more, Vogue suggests that they will be remembered.

–verb
To dance by striking a series of rigid, stylized poses, evocative of fashion models during photograph shoots.

Director: David Fincher

Though Madonna had well and truly mastered the art of storytelling in the music video by Like a Prayer’s release, Vogue is just as compelling without one. Watch it 20 times and you’ll still notice new details, facial expressions, shots that last only a handful of frames - watch it 50 times and you still won’t be able to recreate the choreography. The visual performance is, of course, where the dance truly comes to life - and Madonna is as generous with the video as with the song, allowing her future Blond Ambition dancers much of the screentime. Vogue is as much a showcase for their incredible talent as for the complex art of voguing itself; not just a dance, but a lifestyle for practitioners of ball culture, where the dance originated.

Best known via its depiction in the 1991 documentary Paris Is Burning, ball culture was practised by a scene populated by the marginalised - largely poor, black/Latino and gay. The ballroom competitions themselves involved “walking”, model-style and usually in drag, as a kind of performance art - with the aim to be as convincing as possible. Their status as social outcasts, survivors banded together as “houses” or “families” (often due to rejection by their actual, homophobic parents) led to voguing as a form of aspiration. Though a tribute to fashion and models, the most popular of figures, it aims to elevate the performer via those poses to something better than they are. Madonna’s video does exactly that - she, the very definition of popularity, puts complete unknowns performing a fundamentally weird-looking underground dance in the mainstream spotlight. Yet, dressed impeccably in timeless suits, their radiant star quality nearly approaches hers. As much as it should ideally fit the song’s everyone-is-a-star theme, they nonetheless got there due to their exceptional talent. Yet as (mostly) gay dancers performing a gay dance, their place in Vogue is also the heart of Madonna’s enduring appeal to the marginalised:

Naturally, the other side to Vogue’s black and white is Madonna’s own presence. Whilst the dance was current, many of Madonna’s shots pay tribute to classic images - such as the Dietrich-esque close-ups, or her portrayal of Horst P Horst’s Mainbocher Corset, bringing the still photo to life. Significantly, the one section where she doesn’t share screentime is during the rap, which consists solely of close-ups of her embodying utterly total confidence, even as she invokes her predecessors’ names. It’s as if she dares you to think any less of her, with the monochrome ensuring a level playing field - viewed in the same way they once were, with the same sense of awe.

Madonna’s return to the MTV Video Music Awards in 1990 was perhaps her single greatest television performance. The incredibly complex choreography - done in authentic French period dress - is as far removed from the writhing Like a Virgin as humanly possible. It’s her equivalent to the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, or Michael Jackson at Motown 25 - a expression of such pure, unique talent it renders even the lipsyncing (as with MJ) irrelevant. But there may just be a message in there, too - her drawing of parallels to Marie Antoinette shows that Vogue is truly universal.

And yet the final word must be that in relation to Madonna’s overall career, Vogue is a single pose in a lifetime of choreography. It may be her legacy, but it cannot summarise her more than any other song; the only thing it represents is the extent of the highs a true cultural icon can scale. “Fame” and “celebrity” aren’t worth much anymore, but Madonna, arguably the most famous woman in the world, has truly earned hers.

Albums: Like a Prayer (1989), The Immaculate Collection (1990), I’m Going to Tell You a Secret (2005), Celebration (2009)
Songwriters/producers: Madonna/Patrick Leonard

How strange that a work as immense as Like a Prayer begins with guitar by none other than Prince, the consummate pop artist - and almost immediately, the sound of a door slamming shut. In that single second of sound lies a symbolism that is both entirely fitting - Madonna enclosing herself in stridently spiritual feelings, discarding the past - and entirely unsuitable - for surely art this distinctive does nothing but open metaphorical doors? Like a Prayer is a near-six minutes of reconciled contradictions; where most artists say one thing and mean it, Madonna speaks with a myriad number of connotations - each one completely intentional, completely true.

Essentially, the most resonant, transcendent moments in Madonna’s career have been where her music, lyrics, video, image and public perception align in a way that allows her to, for a brief point in time, embody the concept of the song or album itself. Though their musical brilliance is undeniable, they are not so much songs as cultural experiences inseparable from the visual and emotional associations they carry.

Where Like a Virgin both flouted and winked at Madonna’s Catholic roots, Like a Prayer is its inverse - the reverent atmosphere feels like the more mature sacred to Like a Virgin’s playful profane. But the truth lies in between; the religious context allows Madonna to be more subversive than ever before, elevating the romantic sexual experience to that of a spiritual epiphany. On the surface, some would see it as her repenting at confession, disowning her past behaviour, but if anything, Like a Prayer in fact justifies her sexuality. This process of unification is really what she’d been doing all along; with the Virgin Mary’s name reclaimed by the sex symbol of a whole generation, perhaps one of her feminist aims was to shatter the Madonna-whore complex at the heart of the religious patriarchy?

The sheer density of Like a Prayer’s lyrics is stunning - Madonna uses the brevity of pop lyrics to great effect by fitting so many associations into each phrase. Lines like “When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer” refer to the Catholic reverence of her namesake like literally no other artist could, and “I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there” - both a position of prayer and a suggestion that she wants to give as much as she receives - truly make the sacred and the profane inseparable. At the song’s core is the concept of “la petite mort” - French for “the little death”, a reference to the post-orgasmic state of bliss that borders on the transcendent. One theory goes that in that state of creation, removed from the worldly and material, such pleasure is where we are closest to God - similarly to the idea of prayer as conference with God. My interpretation of Like a Prayer is essentially that Madonna views love, taken to its most intimate point, as an experience so natural and overwhelming it borders on evangelizing. Make of it what you will.

And I’ve barely touched on the music, which is as conflicting and brilliant as every other aspect. Despite having arguably the single best use of a gospel choir in all of popular music, theirs is a Protestant form of expression, not Catholic - but it’s also Madonna being as racially and musically inclusive as ever to the point of stepping out of the vocal spotlight for much of the song. The atmosphere, as established by Prince’s (uncredited) guitar, Guy Pratt’s jumpy bass and in particular the massive choir and church organ is truly unique - few songs have ever managed to be both funky and expansively epic. Patrick Leonard is arguably Madonna’s most consistent collaborator, and on Like a Prayer, their immense ambition pays off. To quote Sal Cinquemani of Slant Magazine, “‘Like a Prayer’ climbs to heights like no other pop song before it—or after.”

Controversy: the first sign of a cultural event. Madonna received $5 million for her endorsement of Pepsi - firstly appearing in the “Make a Wish” commercial and extending to the company’s sponsorship of her next tour. But upon seeing Like a Prayer’s full music video, Pepsi executives pulled the advertisement, attempting to remove their brand’s association with the “inevitable” of outrage they knew would result. It was only ever aired twice, which is a shame - for what now seems like an excellent, surprisingly uncontrived bit of cross-promotion would then have been utterly mind-blowing, considering it was the song’s world debut. Indeed, the images contrasting Madonna at the height of her success with a younger, dreamy version of herself are genuinely touching. Though nowhere near enough people saw the ad for it to make an imprint on the public consciousness, any publicity was good publicity. Madonna probably gained more from its cancellation, if anything - she kept the $5 million advance, and historically, the song is undiluted by any commerciality, having lost any associations with Pepsi in the eyes of the public.

(This excellent 1992 article runs through the series of events as only one who lived through them could.)

And what a video it turned out to be. In the present day, we’re too far removed to feel the full force of the reactions - but in 1989, many viewed it as completely sacrilegious in both its adoption and subversion of Catholic imagery. As usual, this was the result of misinterpretation, a superficial reaction to the images and not their intended meaning. But in a way, it’s hard to blame the conservative outcry - though the video is stunning on a purely visual level, the out-of-order narrative it presents requires multiple viewings to understand, though it is all the more rewarding for it. Madonna herself explains the chronological order of events best:

What’s astonishing is that the video manages to add more layers of meaning to the song, turning it into something of a parable as it likens the black man, punished for giving assistance, to a saint. Though he was in fact meant to be Saint Martin de Porres, Madonna and director Mary Lambert would have been well aware that his character would be interpreted as a black Christ, with the outrage towards that suggestion highlighting a modern racial inequality. With the breathtaking scene of a fierce-looking Madonna dancing in a field of burning crosses, it’s a little harder to say - perhaps an attempt to reclaim traditionally racist imagery? And finally, Madonna’s act of attesting to his innocence borders on the orgasmically rewarding; her stigmata a possible indication that she is doing as Jesus would, and will be punished for it (not in the video, but for spreading its message in real life).

For the images indelibly burned into the collective cultural consciousness; for the power of its message - for even having a message; and for the sheer fervor of the public response, Like a Prayer has my vote for the greatest music video of all time.

Albums: Like a Virgin (1985 reissue), You Can Dance (1987), The Immaculate Collection (1990), I’m Going to Tell You a Secret (2007), Celebration (2009)
Songwriters/producers: Madonna/Stephen Bray

It’s widely recognised that a song better expressing the pure joy of song and dance simply does not exist. The eponymous groove is just massive - the complex, busy drum machine grounds the song whilst the synth floats in the background; the bassline runs circles around everything else, but never to the detriment of the beat. Madonna herself sounds unrestrainably enthusiastic, her vocals flitting from pure hook to occasional soaring high note via the magic of ’80s reverb. Despite coming some five years later, I’d call the Immaculate Collection version definitive - the vocals sound fuller and shorn of some unnecessary repetition, not to mention the totally unexpected keyboard solo that somehow fits perfectly.

The lyrics conjure images of a million Madonna wannabes wearing out vinyl grooves in their bedrooms, singing into hairbrushes, making eyes at boys across dancefloors - this was Madonna the teenage idol in full force, commanding an almost Springsteen-esque empathy in the soundtrack to their lives. But ultimately, teenagers and their popstars grow up - Into the Groove was a fleeting yet glorious moment that Madonna the icon thankfully never tried to prolong. And that, folks, is how you drive a mere ’80s pop song with oh-so-unimportant, generic lyrics about dancing and singing and love to near-mythological status. Into the Groove feels like an anecdote of teen life - not unlike where I am in the present day - but from a more innocent time in 1985, before all those kids grew up and renounced pop music and became our teachers and bosses and had their own kids. Is there a word for “nostalgia for a time before your birth”? Oh, I know. Envy.

The songwriting’s strong enough that Into the Groove’s survived multiple Madonna recontextualisations too - it works with bagpipes on the Re-Invention Tour and hip-hop jump rope on the Sticky & Sweet Tour - even Into the Hollywood Groove, the GAP ad with Missy Elliott, isn’t too bad.

(that’s Into the Groove’s appearance in Desperately Seeking Susan; here’s the music video as a montage from the film)

Into the Groove obviously transcends Desperately Seeking Susan, the film it was written for, but since I obviously like to reduce entire decades to transient cultural references, the association’s quite strong in my mind. No modern-day parody of ’80s excess could possibly contain more amusingly, excessively stereotypically ’80s imagery as what’s shown here. But yes, Desperately Seeking Susan and The Terminator really do inform my perceptions of the decade - especially regarding really sluggish discos, where Into the Groove makes its appearance. The film is essentially a comedy of errors, with an absurdly convoluted plot (this hilarious Videogum piece is as close as a summary gets to brevity) to match the worst Dan Brown has to offer. And in her first major acting role, yes, Madonna is not only absurdly seductive, but steals the show - though mostly because she’s effectively playing herself. Rosanna Arquette admittedly doesn’t have much to work with - when not playing a bored suburban housewife/stalker, she plays a foggy-minded recovering amnesiac masquerading as an imitation of Madonna. Oh, and you thought that was confusing. Overall, though, it’s not a bad film - the weird approach to its plot makes it infinitely more interesting than any modern Matthew McConaughey movie. The sheer datedness is really part of its appeal - maybe in 2034, people will laugh at how I watched the whole thing on YouTube whilst the Hangover is injected directly into their consciousness.

(the way I feel about Madonna in 1985… times three)

From the album Madonna (1983)
Featured on You Can Dance (1987), Ciao Italia: Live from Italy (1988), The Immaculate Collection (1990), The Girlie Show ~ Live Down Under (1994), Drowned World Tour 2001, I’m Going to Tell You a Secret (2006), Celebration (2009)
Written by Curtis Hudson/Lisa Stevens
Produced by John “Jellybean” Benitez

Madonna’s first big hit and breakthrough single - could it be any more obvious why? Holiday’s perfect combination of groove (the bassline is truly a work of art) and catchy melody makes it a defining work in the dance-pop genre. It was great enough that the “assembly-line” hit single factory Stock Aitken Waterman would even use near-identical chord progressions in many of their songs four years later, from Kylie Minogue’s I Should Be So Lucky (just the first time she’d follow in Madonna’s footsteps, hah) to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up. Holiday’s lightweight, breezy feel allows it to spread its universal “let love shine” message of celebration with as much sincerity as the likes of We Are the World, with many times the subtlety. At the same time, this makes it more inherently disposable than ANY other Madonna song, partly due to having been written by outside songwriters. Yet this only seems to have increased its appeal - for the song’s significance to her career now extends far beyond the original single. As a near-staple of her live tours, the way she performs it generally reflects her feelings at the time - see the oddly commanding, militaristic Re-Invention Tour version documented on I’m Going to Tell You a Secret. Still, in its disposability, the studio recording says next to nothing about Madonna as an artist, except that she adapted herself rather well to a song intended for/rejected by Mary Wilson of the Supremes. But who cares? - Holiday is an undisputed classic, regardless.

The music video, however, is tragically bad, and never officially released for that reason - Madonna and her backup dancers (including brother Christopher) simply perform rather daggy dance moves through an absurdly exaggerated psychedelic filter. Much more interesting is Madonna’s 1983 appearance on American Bandstand - her first ever televised live performance. Though it’s lipsynced as usual for such shows at the time, Madonna is genuinely captivating as, alone without choreography, she struts her stuff surrounded by a studio audience. A natural center of attention, her energy is infectious; the resulting cheers actually disproportionately enthusiastic for the kind of performers one would usually get on such shows. The interview afterwards is the source of one of THE classic Madonna quotes, as shown in a slightly edited form at her Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction:

“We are a couple of weeks into the new year; what do you hope will happen, not only in 1984, but for the rest of your professional life - what are your dreams, what’s left?”
“To rule the world.”

For a twenty-five-year-old then-one-hit-wonder, that’s either an admirably courageous or absurdly egotistic statement, but to actually achieve, maintain and surpass it for another twenty-five years is what makes that moment the stuff of legend. Perhaps, considering all that was to follow, it wasn’t so pretentious at all. Many other popstars who followed in Madonna’s wake talked the talk, but could they walk the walk?