Madonna review, Confessions II: Her best album in 20 years – UK Times

Madonna is the queen of reinvention. Whenever she felt that the mainstream was getting too good at emulating the trends she’d set, she switched. For a time, critics accused her of using these makeovers – the sex symbol, the Material Girl, the spiritual seeker, the cowgirl, the dominatrix – as a distraction from, they claimed, a lack of true talent. Nonsense, obviously: her music has always reflected the thrill of the new, the bold.

Her new album exemplifies this: it is her best since the original Confessions on a Dance Floor came out in 2005, produced again with trusted collaborator Stuart Price. Just as the first Confessions responded to the poor commercial performance of its predecessor, 2003’s American Life, Confessions II – landing in the wake of 2019’s muddled Madame X – feels like a timely reminder of her genius. Younger women in pop have been killing it of late: Chappell Roan, Olivia Rodrigo, Billie Eilish, Sabrina Carpenter and Charli XCX all disproving the tired industry notion that there can only be one on top. Enlisting Carpenter herself for the dazzling house track “Bring Your Love”, Madonna seemingly hits back at misogynist attempts to keep her, or indeed any woman in pop, in a box: “Don’t comment on my ideas/ I don’t want your judgement or your expectations/ Don’t wind me up like a toy/ Your vision of me is a killer of joy.”

Having had her first taste of New York’s club scene in the late Seventies, shortly after moving to the city to pursue a dance career, Madonna is the perfect guide. We begin with “I Feel So Free” – sampling Chicago house pioneer Lil Louis – and a swell of synths that’s like the opening of a door into a dark, heady underground. “Sometimes I like to just hide in the shadows,” she whispers. “Create a new persona… a different identity. I can be whoever I wanna be.” Anticipation builds with the steady thrum of beats and her echoing invitation: “Come and meet me on the dancefloor.”

From there, Madonna and Price lead you through a labyrinth of their own making. We visit “Danceteria”, her tribute to the iconic Manhattan club where her first ever single, “Everybody”, was played by DJ Mark Kamins in 1982. At a Confessions II playback attended by journalists, Price explained the intentional nods to some of Madonna’s most iconic hits. So, there’s a touch of “Vogue” in this strutting, shimmying number, and in her command to “get up and dance”. It’s an ode to Eighties hedonism, co-produced with wunderkind Andrew Watt – who helped reinvigorate both the Rolling Stones and Paul McCartney recently – and plays out like a thrilling who’s who of the icons who were there, from Lou Reed to her long-time BFF, actor Debi Mazar.

With 16 songs, the album feels that touch too long – a running time of just over an hour. Price revealed that Madonna would test out the songs in the gym, and you can easily imagine it. This music is engineered to make you move, or indeed, sweat. “Everything” has a harder edge, almost emulating Dizzee Rascal’s “Bonkers” in certain moments, while Madonna’s tone is imperious: “It’s not OK,” she insists to someone who’s disappointed her, “I don’t f*** with it.” Teaming up with Dutch DJ and producer Martin Garrix for “Bizarre” is an intriguing prospect. Garrix, with his endless Ibiza residencies, is all about the quick dopamine hit – the big hook, an even bigger drop – while Price is an expert at delayed gratification. It works.

Like the first Confessions, Price and Madonna create transitions between songs so it flows seamlessly, replicating that feeling of being in a club. They go further by emulating specific encounters – “School” is locking eyes with a stranger, enveloped by the track’s dark, hissing beat and shimmering percussion. “Fragile”, a beautiful homage to Madonna’s late brother, Christopher, is the comedown – that overwhelming loneliness when the dancers and the music have faded away. And “Betrayal”, co-produced with Mirwais – another familiar face who helped create Madonna’s 2000 album Music – is outstanding, one of the most vulnerable songs she’s ever made. It’s built around Satie’s exquisite 19th-century piano composition Gnossienne No 1 – mystical, inspired by the occult – and here turned into an enchanting looping motif that reflects Madonna’s own contemplative mood. “Open the dam,” she urges, “Let the water rush in/ Let it go, let it go, let it go.”

If there was any phrase that could summarise Madonna’s intentions for this album, it’s that. The throughline is catharsis, release, and the freedom that comes with that. Whether she’s airing out previously unspoken grievances with her daughter Lourdes on “The Test”, or accepting that the gorgeous guitar player in St Mark’s Place who “had a Marlon Brando face” wasn’t meant for her, the Lower East Side girl, Madonna is letting go. And it makes for her best music in 20 years.