Review: Confessions on a Dancefloor by Madonna

I had never heard of this album until last week. I doubt I could have named more than 2 or 3 Madonna songs before hearing it. In truth, pop music as a genre isn't my thing; it doesn't scratch any itch. Overall, pop feels vacuous and trite, like it doesn't have anything in particular to say: just vibes the artist hopes will resonate with you.

Yet the more I learn about music (or anything, really), the more nuance emerges and the easier it is to find things to appreciate. There's always some angle that lets you admire something. When you can recognize and break down the choices the artist made during production, everything becomes richer and more impactful. Some of my most beloved albums were initially difficult listens that I had to work to understand.

So, when my friend suggested we try to broaden our horizons by listening to a new album every week, I figured it's high time to dispel my notions and seek out the best examples of pop. Admittedly, the searching effort was not high – I googled "what's the best pop album of the 21st century?" and took the AI suggestion. Now here we are, to see what effect Madonna's 10th studio offering has had on my pop misgivings.

Not much, as it turns out.

I don't blame Madonna, tho. It's just like hip-hop or metal: for the inexperienced and/or disinterested listener, it can be difficult to get into the headspace. You may lack the breadth to notice connections and see the bigger picture of the genre's lineage. For me, pop is uninteresting per se because everything about it is individually simple, and I just can't tune my brain to the right frequency to see the whole as more than the sum of its parts.

So: Confessions on a Dancefloor. It's fine. Nothing particularly annoyed me or sounded bad. The production quality is good, as is to be expected from one of the biggest musical stars in history. I enjoy the concept of it as a long DJ set with no silence between tracks.¹

But as a work of art, I'm left wondering what I was supposed to get out of it. I'm thinking that maybe the artist wasn't actually trying to communicate anything in particular beyond a general vibe. The lyrics are almost comically vapid and cliche-ridden. I can't get a read on any specific message, but she sure pulls on common strongly felt emotions. Maybe that's just what pop is: a mirror held up for everyone to see whatever they need to see at the moment.

The beat is danceable, if monotonous. Maybe it's best to think of it like a movie or game score – like it needs the context of a night club for full immersion. Maybe in that sense (the fact that it lets you dance and socialize without getting in your face), it's a masterpiece.

In fact, my pop listening experience is so narrow, I can't rule out the possibility that there is a Seinfeld is Unfunny situation happening here. For all I know, she could have literally invented this sound on this album and everything similar I've heard was aping Confessions.²

I expect I'll never listen to this one again. For an album to hook me, it needs deep lyrics or complex music, and this has neither. But I will continue my pop journey in hopes of discovering a lost city of gold beneath the surface.

Check out my friend's review.