And Now, I Find, I've Changed My Mind…
With a multi-decade career, Madonna continues to captivate the world. How? I try to answer after a night at the Celebration Tour.
All photos taken during the January 28 date of the Celebration Tour.
There’s a peculiar bravado hidden at the core of Madonna’s 1982 debut single, ‘Everybody.’ It’s an unquenchable thirst that runs underneath her raspy voice—a yearning that her overtly ambitious personality could easily misconstrue.
But, forty-two years after the release of that first single, as she owns the stage a few meters before me, I recognize the same instinctual drive in her eyes, and I come to terms with the fact that, no, it’s not just a personality trait. It’s the gift that, I believe, has remained as the throughline of her career, and the reason why she continues to captivate so many: her understanding of change as an essential part of the human experience, in recalibrating one’s place in life and moving forward.
The first time I realized this, I was about twelve or thirteen, when, after dinner, my brother took me aside on the premise that he had something ‘serious’ to ask.
It turns out he was curious about one of my Limewire downloads: isaac-madonna.mp3
— I found a folder with a bunch of Madonna songs. Are you, gay?
To which I obviously replied,
— It’s not mine; I was just burning a CD for a school friend.
As intrusive and brash as the question was, I found his calculation fascinating; that he could read right through me—when I was barely starting to figure things out—by simply looking at the music I was drawn to.
If he was right, then, I had arrived at the word that could finally put out the fag end that had been burning inside. If he was right, then, most probably, others also sequestered themselves from algebra class to Sharpie their arms with the tattoos from the ‘Frozen’ video.
Madonna straddles above her audience during her ‘Live To Tell’ performance.
From all the rankings we can pull out of our bags to describe her, the ‘Queen of Pop’ surely is the most notable. But, in this day and age of streams and social media, what does that title even represent? We can go the easy way and back it up with the 400M records she’s sold as of October 2023, or the $1.3 billion her tours have earned altogether—a Guinness Record she’s held since 2009. But, last fall, after the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, I started to look for clues into what the accolades of a Queen truly entailed—ignoring the bloodline thing, of course.
Signalled by the countless testimonies appreciating the Queen’s constant presence, I got this new perspective that such high honours demand more than numbers or family heritage as countenance: it requires the anointed to assume the position of both the perennial hill and the hand that will help climb it.
In the weeks preceding the concert, I go down a rabbit hole. I read through interviews, revise lyrics and obsessively watch her performances; I even make it past the prologue of the new Mary Gabriel biography—which I’ll probably finish three years from now. My very own Immaculate pilgrimage.
As I play ‘Drowned World/Substitute for Love’ for the one-hundredth time—a beautiful ballad about looking back on life, moving on, and not conforming, not even to your dreams and where they’ve led you (and my personal favourite)—I realize the closing lines seem a bit familiar:
“And now, I find, I’ve changed my mind.
This is my religion.”
After some browsing, I hit the jackpot: ‘Help!,’ the 1965 Beatles classic about maturing, reminiscing and making peace with failures:
“(And now I find) now I find I’ve changed my mind
And opened up the doors”
Assuming it was played around the house when she was little, could this be Madonna connecting with her younger self through song? I guess I’ll never know, but, from now on, I’ll save it as a secret between Madonna and me.
Thinking about all the versions of me who found shelter in those lyrics; I go back to that white lie I told my brother. Would I be the same today if it wasn’t for the time it bought me then?
For a song that’s walked with me for so many years to still light my path, delineating new obstacles, revealing new horizons and challenging preconceived ideas… I’m thankful for Madonna’s constant presence, and teachings. And I hope that thirty years from now if I’m still around, I’m not the same as today. After all, there's only so much you can learn in one place.
While waiting for the train after the concert, I try very hard to distract myself from the lump in my throat. An interview in which she talks about identifying more as a performance artist than a pop star comes to mind, and I think I see beyond the obvious now.
As the train pulls up to the platform, the larger idea hits me.
Here’s an artist whose entire career has been about tearing down paradigms. By recognizing change as an essential part of human evolution, she’s positioned herself within that very same process. By daring to become the art and the artist, she’s also managed to constantly mirror our biggest fears, forcing us to face them, and allowing us to move on, live freely and grow along with her.
People say she’s fighting ageism these days, but I disagree. The only ones fighting that battle are her detractors, afraid of their own default.
Going at full speed, the train comes in and out of the darkness. Between one of those lapses, I catch my reflection. There’s a spark in my eyes, a very peculiar bravado.
I cannot wait to meet the version of me waking up tomorrow.
