all about Madonna

It's quite a coup for Radio 1 to get Madonna to headline its summer showcase event; the effect, however, is somewhat undermined by the brevity of her performance - the time spent setting up is equal to the six-song set.

Given that the whole event is free, however, it seems churlish to complain, and the 20,000-strong crowd is good-natured and warmly appreciative. Many of them have turned out to see Madonna's latest return to the pop game: still reigning after all these years, she arrives on stage on a throne.

Her new album Hard Candy is getting the hard sell - most of the songs are drawn from there. However, few of the new tracks are particularly memorable - although one stand-out moment is a striking image of Madonna and her highly stylised male dancers moving in tandem across the stage during the opener "Candy Shop".

It is an energetic performance that belies her age, though the spectacle often undermines her singing, which hasn't aged as well as her dance moves. At times, her vocals are overwhelmed by the electro-tinged sound and on occasions it feels as if she is merely singing along to a backing track.

For her second song "Miles Away" she strums away rudimentarily on an acoustic guitar, and straps on an electric guitar for a rock reworking of her 2005 hit "Hung Up". Both gestures ring hollow. Of the new material, "4 Minutes" fuses the divergent elements best, with Justin Timberlake appearing on large screens to complete the duet.

Closing song "Music" from 2000 gets the warmest reception. You can't help but feel that many in the crowd hoped she would live a little further in the past and perform the songs that forged her iconic status, not those that merely perpetuate the brand.

Two of the better British bands of recent years, Foals and Hot Chip, offer strong if somewhat perfunctory performances. The percussive heavy sounds of Hot Chip's new album alongside the pop brilliance of two tracks, "And I Was a Boy from School" and "Over and Over", culled from their second album The Warning, are highlights.

Yet both bands' sets end abruptly - adhering to the tight time-slots allotted. They seem to be just warming up as they have to finish. A business-like sense of bands appearing to keep Radio 1's play-list controllers onside while not outstaying their welcome pervades.

Rating : 3 out of 5 stars

The late John Peel used to make comic capital from the 1978 Radio 1 "Fun Day". This featured the Dave Lee Travis Dragster Demonstration, the Bay City Rollers and Tony Blackburn waving from a speedboat piloted by a man in a Womble costume. "Look upon this and marvel," Peel famously remarked when confronted with the latter sight.

Thirty years on, the Radio 1 Fun Day has expanded into a fun Weekend, with four stages, but zany spirit is still at its elbow. How to pay attention to the Hoosiers' winsome soft rock - a big ask at the best of times - when they have been joined on stage by Jo Whiley, dressed in a banana costume? Some Radio 1 personalities' sacrifices extend far beyond donning fancy dress: "6.30pm Kelly Osbourne explodes!" promises the sign outside the Headroom Tent. How can Scouting For Girls - more soft rock - compete when they're detonating the Prince Of Darkness's daughter a few yards away? It turns out that Kelly Osbourne is exploder rather than explodee, blowing up a giant "love bomb", but it's still got the edge on Scouting For Girls, who appear to have been assembled in a sterile environment, like a specimen container.

Nevertheless, this event has lured Madonna to perform in the shadow of Maidstone Leisure Centre, a state of affairs that - with the greatest respect to the Garden of England's country town - feels not unlike running into Brad Pitt outside Dunstable Asda. Arriving on stage in a glittering throne, a dancer polishing her dominatrix boots, Madonna's star quality is transcendent. Designed to shill her new album, the six-song set is heavy on its slightly disappointing contents. Miles Away is thrown into stark relief when she performs the title track of 2000's Music. It also features a lot of Madonna's guitar playing, for which the adjective "dogged" might have been invented: if your neighbour's teenage son played the riff from the Rolling Stones' Satisfaction like that, you'd bang on the wall.

But none of this really matters. She oozes charisma and does spectacular dance routines, the sense of bizarre occasion compounded by the fact that at the rear of the tent lurks the mayor of Maidstone, resplendent in his official bling. "We're gonna have to start fucking it up!" Madonna squawks before launching into Hung Up, devoid of decorum even in such worshipful company. Unfazed, the mayor of Maidstone claps happily along.

Rating : 4 out of 5 stars

New York, Paris, Maidstone. For the last of three, short shows to plug her current album, Hard Candy, Madonna arrived by helicopter in the Kent countryside to headline Radio 1's Big Weekend. Clearly, the plan was to prove that a pop star about to turn 50 in August can remain relevant to the kids.

Instead, a sterile, soulless performance made Madonna resemble an embarrassing auntie desperately trying to be hip.

A crowd with camera phones at the ready, crammed into a Big Top-style tent, had almost an hour to wait for pop's greatest grande dame to arrive. The PA blasted out sweet-themed songs and the backdrop was girlie, pink swirls.

When Madonna finally appeared, however, there was nothing sweet about her. Legs splayed over a black and gold throne at the top of stairs that doubled as one of various, inventive video screens, she wore an all-black outfit of silk coat, tracksuit trousers tucked into knee-length, lace-up boots and leather, fingerless gloves.

Brandishing a silver cane like an S&M tool was meant to make her look tough. But with her trousers billowing above her boots like jodhpurs, she was less the raunchy temptress than the well-heeled woman in search of a horse.

Like much of the six-song, half-hour set, the opener Candy Shop suffered from muffled sound. Madonna has always valued spectacle over singing, but the bassy beats almost drowned her out and the tune, reasonably catchy on record, became a bland dirge.

Four male dancers removed her coat, revealing a lacy top, and a three-piece band was hidden to the side of the stage. For "Miles Away", an ode to her husband, the film directer Guy Ritchie, Madonna strapped on a guitar, but neither looked as if she was genuinely strumming, or played anything audible. With her dancers briefly dispatched, the song left fans with little to watch through their phones.

The chart-topping single 4 Minutes was a vast improvement, even with Justin Timberlake - rumoured to be appearing in person - merely an image on rectangular screens across the stage, which Madonna spun round to release her dancers hidden behind.

Supremely fit and with bulging biceps, the singer fared best when she joined her troupe in tightly choreographed routines. While her singing occasionally strayed off key, her fancy footwork never faltered.

Two old tracks got the best reception, although as Madonna made clear, she refuses to travel too far back in time. The Abba-sampling hit Hung Up, from 2005, began with a steal from the Rolling Stones' Satisfaction and was a given a grungey rework that felt as fake as Madonna's overblown guitar-thrashing.

A magnificent Music, meanwhile, closed the set and just about saved the show. Part of the stage spun round and out jumped dancers in Day-Glo attire. Madonna performed part of the song on her knees and fans finally got to sing along.

On the way out, the kids complained that she hadn't sung "Holiday", while the Mayor of Maidstone, Richard Ash, grumbled at the shortness of the set. Still, for one night only, it put Maidstone on the pop map.

Rating : 2 out of 5 stars

Twenty-five years after the release of her eponymous debut album, Madonna proved she has still got what it takes to wow audiences with an energetic set at Radio 1's Big Weekend.

The queen of pop - who turns 50 on August 16 - closed the event at Mote Park in Maidstone, Kent, following acts including Duffy, Usher and The Feeling.

Those who had been waiting all day to see Madonna were not disappointed when she appeared on stage in the main tent dressed in a tight black outfit and black knee high boots and opened her set with song Candy Shop, from her number one album Hard Candy.

She dedicated her next song, Miles Away, to "anybody who's afraid of falling in love".

Madonna then launched into her number one single Four Minutes while screens on stage showed images of Justin Timberlake who sings on the track with her.

There was a surprise in store for fans when Madonna picked up an electric guitar, said she planned to sing an old song and launched into the opening lines of the Rolling Stones hit (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction.

After only a few bars, she stopped and called out to the audience: "How many of you are drunk?" When they responded with a collective cheer, she replied: "That's so worrying."

After teasing the audience with the Stones cover, she then planned to sing "a song from the past, but not too far back from the past" and played her former number one Hung Up.

After finishing it with an impressive guitar solo, she changed into a pair of trainers and showed off some energetic dance moves during another song from her latest album, Give It 2 Me.

The style icon also donned a pair of black rimmed glasses and joked she was having problems with her sight. The spectacle ended with 2000 hit Music which provoked a mass singalong from the crowd.

source : pa

source : acko / madonnanation

Madonna once sang that she was living in a material world, at a point when even the most astute observers would have given her career two more years at best. They weren't the first or last people she's made fools of. In fact, her cultural impact has been so immense that now we all live in a Madonna world. Pop icons as diverse as the Spice Girls, Camille Paglia, Page Six, Robbie Williams, Heat magazine, Gwen Stefani, "Big Brother" and Courtney Love are all close to unthinkable without her.

Which would be a dubious legacy, were it not for the fact she's released so many life-affirming, radio-dazzling, zeitgeist-riding songs along the way, from "Holiday" to "Hung Up", via "Virgin" and "Vogue". And yet she's never got the credit she deserves. Twenty five years after finding fame, Paul McCartney was covering "Ferry Cross The Mersey" with Stock, Aitken & Waterman and David Bowie was releasing embarrassing concept albums about his marriage to supermodel Iman. Madonna, meanwhile - at the exact same stage in her career - has just released her most discussed, dissected album since "Erotica".

Deservedly so. "Hard Candy" is a gaudy, uneven and thrilling pop record. Detractors will find much to loathe here - the blatant commercial lunge for the US hip hop market, the tedious innuendos, the awful rap Kanye West is allowed to deliver in "Beat Goes On" for no apparent reason other than the fact he's Kanye West - but for those who love the way Madonna gets her sticky fingerprints all over every musical style she touches, there is much to savour.

Many have commented on how obvious Madonna's choice of producers is on "Hard Candy", but far too little has been written about how she has made them raise their game. When was the last time Pharrell Williams delivered a slice of disco as Chic sleek as "She's Not Me", let alone seen it invested with the drama and unpredictability Madonna brings here? Has Timbaland ever seen his trademark fat, ominous beats taken to such dark, ambiguous, emotional places as Madonna does on the wonderful "Voices"? And while Pharrell might be able to turn out slight but sprightly guitar strums like "Spanish Lessons" in his sleep, it takes Madonna to make them as playful and melodically sweet as this.

Are there flaws? Well, let's count the ways. The lame, tame single entendres of the otherwise brilliant "Candy Shop". The grotesque lyrical self indulgences of "Dance 2night". The outdated, messy "Incredible". But who cares when they're matched against the hypnotic "Heartbeat" or the titanic "Four Minutes". Songs as good as this - and the obviously fruitful collaboration between Madonna and Williams - are what makes "Candy Shop" her best record since "Ray Of Light". We live in a Madonna world. And as long as she keeps releasing albums as vivid, relevant, distinctive and modern as this, we will for a some time yet.

8 out of 10 stars

Gay boys, rejoice: The Material Girl a.k.a. Madge a.k.a. M-Dolla, (as she is currently known) has returned to save us from the Miley Cyruses of the world. The diva's latest album, Hard Candy (her last for Warner Records), dropped April 29 to rabid fan anticipation and generally positive reviews. In many ways Candy is a continuation of Madonna's last album, Confessions on a Dance Floor, albeit a starker, more minimalist collection of rump-shaking tunes. Ever the shrewd one, Madonna enlisted some of the top names in the music business to create her latest project, including Pharell Williams, Timbaland, the Neptunes, and Justin Timberlake. On April 30 the queen of pop staged a one-night-only concert to promote the album, at New York City's famed Roseland Ballroom.

Tickets to the show were in very limited supply; a handful were available to customers of Verizon Wireless (the show's sponsor), 200 through the Madonna Fan Club, and 1,000 more were distributed through radio station contests. The truly hard-core wannabes staked out a spot on the curb outside the club for their shot at an audience with Her Royal Blondness. Jamie King of Long Island arrived at 5 a.m. to get one of the coveted wristbands. He first saw Madonna perform on her "Blonde Ambition" tour when he was in sixth grade and has been hooked ever since. "I never miss any of her shows," said King. "I'm always afraid it will be her last one." That's not likely anytime soon. Madonna has always been an unabashed attention junkie, and she knows just how to keep her fan base under her spell.

That fan base has always been a devoted bunch. Inside the club (after suffering through the most disorganized, abusive door scene ever) the crowd was palpably jacked up to see their queen. Amid the cute young gay boys and funky nightclub types were throngs of bridge-and-tunnel radio listeners so drunk and so amped up to see the living legend that they cheered uncontrollably when someone merely held up a license plate that read MADONNA. Some in attendance were seen sporting Hard Candy T-shirts and hoodies, available for purchase in the club's lobby ($35 and $60, respectively).

The show could be seen live on MSN Music and would also serve as the first global, live Verizon "V Cast." At 10 p.m. precisely, the house lights dropped, the crowd roared, and the magic began. Madonna appeared to ear-splitting screams and cheering. Blond, sexy, and impossibly youthful-looking, she was perched high up on the stage on an M-shaped throne, her legs spread wide in a defiant, sensual pose. Launching into "Candy Shop," she immediately gave the crowd what they came for, strutting and dancing in a tightly choreographed routine, joined by a half-dozen energetic backup dancers. The track was perfectly emblematic of the album as a whole: a percolating pop confection with lyrics that are meant to get the listener moving, not thinking ("Get up out of your seat / Come on up to the dance floor / I've got something so sweet / Come on up to the front door"). Video screens displayed psychedelic imagery of candy corn and peppermints behind the frenzied dance routine, while some members of the crowd paid homage to the night's theme by raising their own oversize, swirly lollipops in the air.

After getting the party started with that kinetic opening number, Madonna strapped on an acoustic black guitar, complete with sparkly crystal-studded strap, and launched into "Miles Away." Arguably Hard Candy's best track, it was also the standout number of the night. Madonna's voice was strong and clear over the deep bass line, strumming guitar and jagged percussion. Rumored to be about Guy Ritchie, Madonna's husband, "Miles Away" was a melancholy reflection on imperfect love ("When no one's around then I have you here / I begin to see the picture, it becomes so clear / You always have the biggest heart / When we're 6,000 miles apart").

By this point the crowd was swooning, and the relentless Ms. Ciccone did not let up for a moment. The music for Hard Candy's first single, the Timbaland-produced "4 Minutes" pumped out of the club's powerful speakers, while onstage, several elaborate rotating video screens projected the clockwork and digital tic-tac-toe imagery of the song's video. The central screen rotated to suddenly reveal Justin Timberlake, and the crowd exploded. One could feel the excitement in the room as JT and Madonna performed their hit song, enacting a sexy, playful dance number dynamically echoing their work in the "4 Minutes" video; the two pop superstars have an undeniable chemistry together. Madonna was smiling quite a bit, and seemed to actually be enjoying herself, a rarity. The night momentarily became "The Justin Timberlake Show"; his dancing was effortlessly erotic, and together they generated heat that sizzled throughout the venue.

The lights dimmed, and the rough, familiar guitar riff of "Satisfaction" blared through the speakers. "Did you guys think you came to a Rolling Stones concert?" asked Madonna, looking amazingly fresh. "Yeah, fuck that!" The Blond One took a moment to talk to the audience. After saying she's done "what seems like 100 records," she revealed that "every time I put out a record, it feels like the first time and the best time." She dedicated her next song to the fans who camped out on the sidewalk for tickets, the ones who would most appreciate one of her older hits. "That's enough of the present," she said, then exclaimed "Fuck the present!" With that, she tore into a coarse, thrash-rock rendition of "Hung Up," which was actually far superior to the discofied album version, all gut-wrenching guitar squeals and an ominous drumbeat punching through. She ended the song by giving the crowd the middle finger before vanishing offstage.

After that brief foray into rock 'n' roll, it was right back to more of Hard Candy's bouncy electro-pop. The Pharrell Williams-produced "Give It 2 Me" proved to be a rousing, dance floor-ready jam that allowed Madonna and her underlings to show off their amazing energy and tight dance moves. The crowd loved this song, and no doubt remixers and DJ's will also. At no point during the evening did Madonna's energy falter; the woman is going to be 50 this summer and easily kept up with backup dancers half her age without even breaking a sweat.

She demands just as much from her audience. "I don't see you jumping up and down enough!" she admonished, then moved on to the night's final number, "Music." Against a simulated graffiti-splashed subway car backdrop, she and her crew of dancers (in full on '80s B-boy style, complete with track suits and Kangols) performed a kinetic, hip-hop dance extravaganza. For good measure, Madonna also threw in a taste of voguing for the old-school queens. As the song escalated into dance-pop nirvana and the room reached a frenzied peak, everything went black and it was all suddenly, shockingly over.

That move -- leave 'em wanting more -- was quite calculated and totally in keeping with the Material Girl's shrewd machinations. The show -- 32 minutes from start to finish -- was completely and utterly choreographed; not a spontaneous movement or word to be had, but no matter. "The package" is what her fans have come to expect, and that is exactly what they got. Madonna is a robot, yes, but a sexy, entertaining, and fascinating robot. As a promotion for Hard Candy, an album of sugary, syncopated, disco-meets-hip-hop dance anthems, the night was a total success. Every sweet tooth in the house was thoroughly satisfied.

Halfway through her 32-minute set on Wednesday night at the Roseland Ballroom in Manhattan, Madonna offered a message of sympathy.

"All you people I saw sleeping in the street last night," she said, "this song is for you."

It was "Hung Up," about the agony of waiting. And as she finished the song, she added, just in case the message wasn't clear: "Anybody who knows me knows how much I hate to wait."

New York may be a city of the impatient, but for Madonna's fans, Wednesday's show proved that seeing her for free in a 2,200-capacity hall -- minuscule by her usual touring standards -- was something worth waiting for. And waiting for a very long time.

The line outside Roseland, on West 52nd Street, formed 60 hours before show time. By late Tuesday it had stretched around the block as the faithful stood and sat and slept and caffeinated themselves for the chance to score one of the 750 wrist bands that would guarantee free admission.

Erica Gabriel, a 28-year-old makeup artist, waited through the night on line with friends. Once duly wrist-banded some time after 6 a.m., she returned home to prepare the elaborate, swooping hairstyle and "stewardess-Madonna-tricky-tranny look" that she sported early Wednesday evening -- as she waited on line again to receive a second wristband.

"Gays don't camp out," said one of Ms. Gabriel's friends, as the group laughed, "but we'll camp out for this."

Even those who joined the queue relatively late proved to be professionals of a sort.

"I'm not fanatical," said Walter Sharpe, 36, an interior designer from Brooklyn. "But I do collect Madonna magazine covers, and I've got maybe 170 of them."

There is something almost quaint about an overnight line for concert tickets in an era of Internet pre-sales and ordering by text message. But Madonna's show, to promote her new album, "Hard Candy," was also part of a technologically sophisticated, 21st-century product rollout that involved multiple media tie-ins. It was broadcast live on the Internet by MSN and on cell phones worldwide by Verizon and Vodaphone. In addition to the 750 spots given to fans on the line -- that's on a line, not online -- about 1,000 were given to radio contest winners, and 200 to members of Madonna's fan club, which now has a social-networking component.

And at 49, Madonna remains on the entrepreneurial vanguard of the music business. "Hard Candy" is her last album for her longtime label, Warner Brothers; in October she announced a new deal with the touring giant Live Nation that will encompass recordings, tours, merchandising and various other projects, and is valued at $120 million.

Not that all of the Music Biz 2.0 stuff mattered much to the people who crammed into Roseland on Wednesday, even those who breathe media and marketing. One of them was Tanesha Fields, a pretty 26-year-old who works in advertising and said her nights are filled with business parties. "I don't have to go to another media event for a year," she said. "This tops them all."

The room roared with "Omigods" and lit up with digital camera flashes when Madonna emerged at 10:09 p.m. from behind a revolving stage barrier, dressed in shiny black and wearing lace-up boots. Backed by a live band whose members worked in the far corners of the stage, she performed six songs, four of them from "Hard Candy."

Another big roar rose for the third song, "4 Minutes": Justin Timberlake, who is featured on the song and is one of the writers and producers of it, took the stage in a sharp white jacket and black scarf, and joined Madonna in some dirty dancing that had slight bondage overtones -- with Madonna dominant, of course.

The show was swift clockwork. At 10:23, right after "4 Minutes," Madonna picked up a black electric guitar and, after picking out the riff to the Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction," led a grungy version of "Hung Up." At 10:32 there was a slight costume change -- she put on a black top with "HARD" in silver letters on the front and "CANDY" on the back -- and she sang the new "Give It 2 Me."

Then came "Music," much dancing, and a quick makeup and hair fix on the wings. By 10:42 Madonna and her dancers had swung back through the revolving wall and the lights went up.

Some had waited for more than two days for a half-hour show. But no one seemed to be complaining.

"I had the time of my life tonight," said Jeanrené St. Pierre, a fan club contest winner from Montreal who wore a "BOYTOY" necklace. "Of course it was worth it."

A crowd far larger than the 2,200 capacity of New York club Roseland camped out overnight on the streets of midtown Manhattan awaiting the chance to see Madonna debut tracks from her new album Hard Candy on Wednesday. The audience of celebs and die-hard fans who actually made it through the doors in time for her 10 p.m. set (which was broadcast on the Web by Verizon) seemed more awed than ready to groove when Madonna hit the stage, spending time texting and taking photos to prove the experience had really happened rather than dancing. But the cheers were ear-splitting, and with good reason: For 40 minutes Madonna delivered an impressive taste of what her upcoming Hard Candy tour might look like -- tight choreography to match her sculpted body, reinterpreted tracks, a bit of rock & roll and a star ready to run her mouth.

After spinning approximately an hour's worth of music ranging from Rihanna to the Eurythmics (though the biggest cheers came for "Sweet Child O' Mine" and a spotting of Rosie O'Donnell in the balcony), Madonna's DJ flipped on 50 Cent's "Candy Shop" and dropped in a bit of "I Want Candy." Eventually the tracks faded, making way for the sound of Madonna singing the chorus from Hard Candy opener "Candy Shop," at which point the lights dropped and the night's main attraction emerged on a throne swinging a cane. Giant projection screens flanking the stage displayed mesmerizing animations of spinning candy as Madonna strutted around the stage in tall lace-up boots and a lacey black top with six dancers in tow.

After greeting the crowd with, "All right, New York City!" she was handed a black acoustic guitar with a sparkly silver strap and immediately launched into the new album's lush but wistful "Miles Away," assisted by a small band consisting of a drummer, two keyboardists, the DJ and the guitarist who played her past three tours, Monte Pittman. After stepping up to the front of the stage to strum the last bars of the song as images of airplanes landing and plane tickets flashed on the screens behind her, Madonna retreated only to re-emerge a moment later, after Hard Candy's first single "4 Minutes" kicked off with a brief fanfare. The set began to rotate across the stage, creating a few narrow columns that doubled as screens projecting images of booming speakers as the song's video played at the back of the stage. When it came time for Justin Timberlake's first vocal parts, he emerged from behind one of the set pieces in a black-trimmed white jacket and dark scarf to wild cheers (Hamutsun Serve, the Japanese dance duo who appear in the video, also made an appearance). Timberlake and Madonna ended the song by replicating the choreography from the video, moving swiftly back and forth across the stage.

After the set spun back to its original position, the riff from the Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" sailed off the stage. "Did you guys think you came to a Rolling Stones concert?" Madonna asked the crowd, and responded to the audience's slight boos with, "Yeah, fuck that." After thanking "the lovely and talented" Timberlake for joining her show, she added, "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be able to make a record with him, Timbaland, Pharrell, Kanye West. And even though I've made what seems like 100 records, every time I put one out it's like the first time, and the best time." Madonna: always like a virgin.

"But that's all I can take of living in the present," she said sharply. "Fuck the present! We're going to go back in time. All you people I saw asleep on the sidewalk last night, this song is for you, and I want to hear you singing it loud and clear." She then picked out the chord progression for Confessions on a Dance Floor's "Hung Up" on a black Les Paul, turning the super-digital disco tune into a grungy, guitar-based sludge-fest as black-and-white images of blurry breakdancers appeared on the screens behind her. In an extremely rare moment of imperfection, she skipped a "tick-tick-tock" and got slightly ahead of her band and backing vocal, turning around to glance at her fellow musicians before popping back onto the beat. "Anybody who knows me knows how much I hate to wait," she announced as the song neared its end, replicating the sound of waiting in her brain by executing a slow pick slide, then provided a rocking coda -- as though she was taking aim at those who criticized her induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame -- as her DJ threw up devil horns. She then stalked offstage and gave the crowd the finger in a move reminiscent of the punk section of 2001's Drowned World Tour, where she first debuted her guitar playing.

Madonna returned after an extremely swift outfit change in a sleeveless jacket for "Give It 2 Me," the Pharrell-produced club track that will serve as Hard Candy's second single, surrounded by two male dancers in doo-rags who encouraged the crowd to hop up on the track's synth-amped chorus. Pharrell appeared on the video screens throughout the song, and green lasers cut across the stage, pulsing in time to the thumpy track. "I don't see people jumping up and down enough," Madonna complained, singing the chorus to "Music" accompanied only by the beat from her new album's "Heartbeat." After vanishing briefly once again, the back screen changed to a projection of a subway car, and a central panel spun to reveal Madonna and her dancers lounging on seats as though they were hopping the D to the Bronx (the car actually read "Freshville"). Unlike "Hung Up," "Music" got a synth-soaked remix treatment, which soundtracked a gender-split dance-off between Madonna and her lady dancers and their male counterparts.

At the end of the song the Kangol-topped crew returned to the subway and the lights came up signifying the conclusion of the set, but the beat went on -- literally -- as the PA blasted "Beat Goes On" from Hard Candy and fans danced their way out the door.

You've got to hand it to Madonna -- she never does anything half-assed.

The Queen of Pop, whose album Hard Candy dropped Tuesday, pulled out all the stops at New York's intimate Roseland Ballroom on Wednesday night (April 30), dazzling the packed-to-the-rafters crowd -- including Fran Drescher and Rosie O'Donnell -- with an energetic, fast-paced, six-song set that featured a guest appearance from Justin Timberlake for Madonna's latest single, "4 Minutes."

It was an event better-suited for Madison Square Garden and one that these fans - many of whom probably had to call a sitter for the evening - won't soon forget.

The pre-gig vibe was one of unadulterated excitement, with 45 minutes of candy-themed music (Bow Wow Wow's "I Want Candy," New Edition's "Candy Girl"), compliments of a DJ stationed center stage. Behind the expansive, five-platform stage, the cover image of Madonna's latest LP flashed on the big screens. Madonna, wearing a skintight black suit and a lace top, was certainly punctual, taking the stage promptly at 10:04 p.m. ET, to thunderous applause, as the first bars of "Candy Shop" reverberated off the packed venue's walls.

One segment of the stage rotated to reveal Madonna sitting on a gold-and-black throne, wielding a golden walking stick. Images of confections flashed on the television screens flanking the back of the stage. Madonna, along with her six dancers, gyrated in choreographed harmony to the sexy club jam. This performance, even if only 38 minutes long, was production-heavy, with a four-piece band and no fat. One song seemed to blend into the next, with Madonna saying very little to her adoring fans, who hopped on the opportunity to snap pictures of the pop icon with their camera phones as she strutted across the edge of the stage.

Next, Madonna strapped on an acoustic guitar, tossed back a swig from a champagne bottle and strummed her way into "Miles Away," a midtempo number about being far from home. Images of planes taking off and landing, airports and various locations around the globe were projected across the screens behind her.

The crowd cheered at the first few notes of "4 Minutes," which mimicked its video with a flashing countdown clock. After Madonna belted out the song's first verse, Timberlake emerged from a rotating pylon, wearing a white jacket and black scarf. It was the high point of the evening, and the production value of the performance was arena-size.

Madonna paused for a moment to reflect on the talent she's been able to work with lately, including Timberlake, Kanye West, Timbaland and others. "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world," she said, before dedicating her next number to her longtime fans -- the ones she'd seen "sleeping on the sidewalk" the night before in line for tickets. She then played "Hung Up" from 2006's Confessions on a Dance Floor, followed by the disco anthem "Give It To Me," with pink and green disco beams pulsating across the crowd. Madonna danced like a woman less than half her age, and her vocals were at their peak.

"Give it to me, New York," Madonna yelled. "I don't see you people dancing up and down enough."

The stage lights were reminiscent of those at a Daft Punk gig, and that didn't change during the night's final song, "Music." Madonna started out at the very front of the stage, singing the opening a cappella, and was joined by all the concertgoers, who screamed in unison: "Music/ Makes the people/ Come together." As her dancers emerged from a faux silver subway car (destination: "Freshville"), she pranced across the stage, touching the dozens of outreached hands grabbing for her attention. The show ended with Madonna racing up the stage to the subway doors, behind which she disappeared.

And at 10:38, she was done. In and out.

Madonna humped Justin Timberlake.

And I got to see it. Timberlake was the surprise guest at Madge's one-night only show at New York's Roseland tonight, and the chemistry between the two was hot as they were humping, bumping and grinding through "4 Minutes (to Save the World)."

Despite the fact that she's old enough to be his mother, they really do make beautiful music together.

She mostly stuck to songs off the new disc Hard Candy, but the evening--including a laser light show--had a totally '80s feel to it.

Madonna's tracksuit had that vintage look (even though it was new Dolce and Gabbana). The back-up dancers were breakdancing practically. And JT reeled off some of his best Michael Jackson-inspired moves.
There were a couple of glitches. Read on for those.

During "Hung Up," one of only two older songs she performed in her 7-song set, the vocal track skipped a couple of beats, which left her looking a little flustered.

Then at the end of that same song, Madonna fell on her butt. Even with all the energetic gyrations onstage, I'm pretty sure she didn't mean to do that.

It is not yet time to stick a fork in Madonna. The grande dame of pop isn't done just yet.

Pop music is supposed to be a young person's game, but Madonna, as she's done so often throughout her quarter-century career, ignores the rules by sounding vital and relevant, even as she approaches her 50th birthday.

"They say that a good thing never lasts, and then it has to fall," she sings on her new album, "Hard Candy." "Those are the people that didn't amount to much at all."

The 11th studio set of her career -- and her last for Warner Bros. Records, the longtime label that she's leaving for a wide-ranging deal with concert promoter Live Nation -- "Hard Candy" is a heady, frisky sugar rush of urban dance-pop come-ons in which Madge finally gets into the hip-hop groove.

"See which flavor you like/And I'll have it for you," she coos in album opener, "Candy Shop," a hooky song driven by a twitchy, syncopated drum pattern. "Come on into my store/I've got candy galore." Advertising herself as "your one-stop candy store," she purrs: "Sticky and sweet/My sugar is raw."

The recent Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee has succeeded for so long, with more than 200 million records sold worldwide since 1982, in large measure because she's always had a knack for identifying interesting trends and adopting them as her own. (Well, that, along with self-promotional genius and sheer personality.)

Though lust is hardly a new addition to the "Sex" author's repertoire, the sound on "Hard Candy" represents a welcome new twist for Madonna: It's dance-pop pressed through a hip-hop filter with the help of several urban-music studio heavies -- namely Pharrell Williams, Timbaland and Nate "Danja" Hills. (It's another signature Madonna move, as she's been collaborating with hot producers since the early days of her career, when she teamed with the likes of Jellybean Benitez and Niles Rodgers.)

Given hip-hop's long-standing ubiquity, Madonna is arriving late to this particular party, suggesting that she might be slowing down in her advanced age. But even if she's not starting any new trends in following the lead of Nelly Furtado, Gwen Stefani and such, Madge still manages to sound perfectly at home in the hip-hop world, where her sharp pop sensibilities -- particularly her ability to craft killer hooks -- are given a mostly fresh rhythmic framework.

If it's not the boldest move of her career, it's still a successful gambit from one of the great all-time shape-shifters.

It works best when Madonna isn't trying to act like she's down with the hip-hop kids, which just sounds weird. In "Heartbeat," for instance, over a stuttering beat accented by a cowbell, we find Madonna quasi-rapping the line "see my booty get down" over and over as Pharrell eggs her on: "A little lower, baby." Awk-ward!

More cowbell, less of Madonna's booty raps, please. (She should leave that to the pros, as with Kanye West, who cameos on "Beat Goes On.")

Much better is the album's lead single, "4 Minutes," which Madonna co-wrote with Timbaland, Hills and Justin Timberlake, who also makes a vocal cameo. It's a busy, brassy song propelled by a detonative marching-band beat, and it's one of the most thrilling things Madonna has done in this decade.

"Give It 2 Me" is also a highlight, a thumping, super-sexualized banger in which Madonna demands "it" over lurching synth stabs and a rump-shaking rhythm. "Don't stop me now, don't need to catch my breath/I can go on and on and on," she sings convincingly. Maybe 50 is the new 25.

And, in fact, it's easy to forget that Madonna is just months removed from the half-century mark and that Timberlake wasn't yet 2 years old when her first single, "Everybody," was released in 1982.

This is not the soundtrack to "The Cougar Den," though, as Madonna wears her youthful sexuality well, managing to avoid sounding creepy during her multiple come-ons.

Pop music's Everlasting Gobstopper, she keeps on ticking -- and, um, licking -- as time and trends march on.

DOWNLOAD THESE:"4 Minutes," "Incredible," "Give It 2 Me"

Is it wrong for a 49-year-old woman to sing about sex? Nah -- especially if it's Madonna doing the cooing. I mean, if you have to imagine a horny half-century-old lady, doesn't she naturally come to mind?

The snake-charming beats of the Queen of Pop's new album, Hard Candy, dissolve any nostalgia for eccentric turn-of-the-century Madge like an Alka-Seltzer plopped in a Sprite. Candy producers Timbaland, Nate "Danja" Hills, and especially Pharrell Williams, have crafted such catchy confections that it's hard not to embrace the hour of general vapidity laid at your feet.

The opening track, "Candy Shop," is like hot sex on Willy Wonka's bed. Pharrell's pulsating tribal beats and Madge's teasing -- "I got something so sweet...stick-stick-sticky and sweet" -- make "Candy Shop" irresistible to everyone but nuns and those wearing hair shirts. She may be offering up her music rather than her body, but who knows?.

Already a radio hit, "4 Minutes" owes its status more to featured player Justin Timberlake than to the song's star; but again, whatever. It's fun as hell. The next track, "Give It 2 Me," is an infectious Pharrell jam that will explode in Europe and gay clubs everywhere. On the surface it seems Madonna is saying, "Bang me," but with lyrics like "They say that a good thing never lasts / And then it has to fall / Those are the people that did not amount to much at all... Give me the bass line / and I'll shake it / Give me a record and I'll break it." But she's actually saying, "Give me your best shot" -- a message that blends well with the album's pugilistic cover image.

There's no deeper meaning in "Heartbeat," which is enjoyable but blank; it invites comparison to Robyn's superior, soulful "With Every Heartbeat." Thankfully, Candy's pièce de résistance is next, the moving and hum-inducing, "Miles Away." It's refreshing to hear Madonna tell a story again, especially a personal one like "Miles Away," which describes a relationship made stronger by distance. It's lamentable she's abandoned softer, story-driven songs as of late since her voice sounds better than ever.

With its minimal beat and quiet melancholy -- reminiscent of high-water mark "Don't Tell Me" -- "Miles" is Candy's apex. There's fun to be had in the album's remainder, but filler is apparent: "Spanish Lesson," "Dance 2 Night," and the disco-fied wastes of time, "She's Not Me" and "Beat Goes On" (complete with an even more useless Kanye West rap). Amidst the forgettable is "Incredible," a grower of a song that goes unexpected places. While Madonna sings (nasally, for some reason) about desiring the idyllic early days of a love affair, hip-hop and house blend together like chocolate and peanut-butter. Nice job, Pharrell.

Candy's sugar solidifies by album's end: "Devil Wouldn't Recognize You" is no hit, but it's intriguing lyrics and easy-on-the-ears refrain are good enough to compensate for the fact that it sounds like a rip-off of "Cry Me a River" or "What Goes Around, Comes Around." Candy closer "Voices" is weird and wonderful; it's dark like American Life and sultry like "Justify My Love." With this song Madonna delivers on what the album's title promises: a treat that's genuinely sour and sweet.

Madonna's new album, Hard Candy (* * * 1/2 out of four), reminds us of the power of a grown woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.

Sure, the singer enlisted support from leading hip-hop savants such as Pharrell Williams and Timbaland - as well as Timbaland's regular client Justin Timberlake, who appears on the single 4 Minutes - for this groove-driven collection, a more fully realized, forward-thinking sequel to 2005's Confessions on a Dance Floor. But there's no doubt who's in charge on numbers such as the breathless Give It 2 Me and the thumping, bittersweet Miles Away.

Sex is always lurking -- but not just where you bump and grind it. It's a form of self-expression and liberation, like dancing, which "makes me feel like the only one the light shines on" in the percolating Heartbeat. It's a feeling that every woman aspires to in some way, but few get to experience on a regular basis.

With Hard Candy, Madonna at least lets us sample the sweet sound of success.

Madonna is coming home: Having spent a decade working with producers drawn from European club culture, Hard Candy is her link-up with the American men who've come to define global pop. Five songs with Timbaland and Justin Timberlake, six with Pharrell Williams, one with Williams and Kanye West. The best, this line-up announces, need to work with the best. But lead single "4 Minutes" doesn't sound like the best working with the best: It sounds complacent, like a pop supergroup high-fivin' each other.

The "4 Minutes" marching band rhythm-riff may be Timbaland's strongest idea on the album but the performers seem happy to let it do the work. He keeps shouting for "Mad-DON-nuh!" but she's a guest on her own track, singing from the margins of what might as well be a Timberlake outtake. Timbaland's productions are the weaker links on this frustratingly ordinary album. Partly he's a victim of his own ubiquity-- we know his tricks by now: the interlocking rhythmic hooks on his upbeat tracks, the bubbling claustrophobia on his ballads. "Devil Wouldn't Recognise You" is the third time-- at least-- that he's written "Cry Me a River", right down to the moody rainstorm breakdown and thunderclaps. But his less-typical productions don't all work well here either: "Dance 2Night" aspires to 80s funk slickness but lumbers where it should cruise.

The 1980s, specifically Madonna's 80s, haunt Hard Candy: It's been touted as a return to the spirit and sound of her earliest work, but her voice and delivery have changed too much for the comparison to hold. Her vocal training and singing lessons in the 90s broadened her range but she's never sounded as hungry since, and her phrasing on Hard Candy is frequently dreadful-- words so evenly spaced and emphasized that it sounds like she's reading aloud to a class. Or teaching you the choruses: You won't get "Miles Away" out of your head in a hurry but that's less to do with its quality than the didactic way she delivers it. Her biggest misstep is "Heartbeat"-- lyrics deliberately reminiscent of "Into the Groove" but sung so detached you might as well be at a Madonna Studies lecture.

The record's better tracks are, unsurprisingly, those where Madonna sounds more engaged. Second single "Give It to Me" has her delivering an imperious lesson on success and survival-- "Show me a record and I'll break it/ I can go on and on"-- over Hard Candy's most urgent tune, hard-pushing electro-ska whose keyboards break up trying to keep pace. Closing track "Voices" is gorgeously gothic orchestral synth-pop that she seems to relax and revel in. Centerpiece "She's Not Me" is a stirring piece of turf-defense, prowling between Chic-era disco and modern pop-house as Madonna slaps down a rival. It's taut and cold, easily Hard Candy's most emotionally compelling moment.

"She's Not Me" smoothly lays out Madonna's credentials: Twenty-five years at the top of the game. She doesn't reinvent pop; she defines it. Her strengths have always been her authority, and her smart sense of who to work with and when. So even if it's a summary of where pop's at rather than where it's going, Hard Candy should still be excellent. After all, if you're not going to do your best work for Madonna, who are you going to do it for? But after listening, the question's still open-- nobody involved in Hard Candy is anywhere near their creative peak.

Rating : 5.3

Imagine this: A new Madonna album comprised entirely of brisk, hard dance anthems, all boldly updating the blissful hits of her club-driven youth.

Now imagine that none of those songs (save the advance single) has anything to do with world politics, spiritual growth, starving African children or any lingering mother issues. Instead they present a wall-to-wall call to the dance floor, fired by ecstatic, innovative, and propulsive beats, paired to tunes that will make you swoon.

That's what Madonna's last album - 2005's "Confession On The Dance Floor" - promised to be, but hardly was. We still had Kabbalah references, finger-wagging "issue" songs and lots of cuts that weren't nearly as danceable or catchy as advertized.

Anyone disappointed by that album should take a lick of "Hard Candy," out Tuesday. It's everything "Confessions" professed to be - and more: a disc that gorges on catchy choruses, nagging beats and insouciant vocals. It may be the best album of Madonna's career. Certainly it's the most consistent (not counting "greatest hits" cheats).

Plenty of people will carp that Madonna had to haul in some of the heaviest hitters she has ever collaborated with to pull this off - including Justin Timberlake, Timbaland, and Pharrell. "Hard Candy" represents only the third time in Madonna's long career when she has relied on top, proven talent as conspirators, rather than bringing in newbies she can nurture and/or control.

The last time she did this was her ultimate career low, in 1994, following the hideously reviewed "Sex" book. She bounced back with "Bedtime Stories," produced by can't-miss guys like Babyface.

It's hard to say why Madonna felt she needed to bring in such headline-making help this time, unless it has to do with facing the Big Five-Oh - she hits it Aug. 16. Or the fact that "Hard Candy" marks the end of her contract with the only label she has ever known (Warner Brothers). Either way, Madonna has given the company the richest possible parting gift.

Where to begin?

The first single - the smash "4 Minutes" - is probably the least engrossing track on the CD. It's the only one that goes for the political, rather than the personal, though it does so in such a vague way, you can barely tell. Of course, it's as much a Timberlake song as a Madonna turn but that's the only track where the star attraction threatens to piggyback on another person's turf.

That was the worry for "Hard Candy." Fans feared it would find Madonna vampirically sucking the blood of the latest urban gods to gain back her youth. But the point turns out to be moot. In fact, Pharrell and Timbaland have never sounded this frothy, and that clearly comes from Madonna's talent for zip.

Take "Heartbeat." Madonna co-wrote the cut with Pharrell, and although it benefits greatly from the hook of his trademark orgasmic moans, Maddy's vocal has an R&B sheen that cinches it.

The title track kicks off the CD and sets its exuberant tone. It's got tribal/urban beats, cunning lyrical innuendos, and a chorus with the R&B-jazz twist of a Kool and the Gang hit from the '70s.

In "Miles Away" Madonna recycles a neat trick from the past: She uses abrupt guitar strums as an acoustic contrast to the synthetic clack of the beat. Vocally, she hasn't sounded as ravishing as she does here since "Evita."

"Incredible" has real bubble gum snap. "Beat Goes On" makes sure it does.

I could go on raving about the tracks, but I won't. I want to go back and listen to them.

5 out of 5 stars

Dancing is like sex: You can do it with almost anybody -- but it works best when you have the right partner.

Considering the amount of, um, dancing that Madonna has done over the decades, it's amazing how long it took her to figure out that one.

After years of dallying with trendy Eurodisco producers such as Mirwais, Stuart Price and William Orbit, the 49-year-old pop icon has finally found some real men who can keep up with her.

On her 11th studio album -- and her final disc of original material before leaving Warner for that bazillion-dollar Live Nation deal -- the Material Mom gets her groove back with four of the biggest names in hip-hop: Timbaland, Justin Timberlake, The Neptunes' Pharrell Williams and Kanye West. They outfit these dozen tracks with enough whomping urban club beats and freaky-deaky synths to make this Madonna's most engaging, edgy and contemporary disc in ages.

Grab yourself a partner and get down. Or get up and dance.

Candy Shop 4:15

"Come on up to the dance floor," coaxes Madonna. "I got something so sweet." Indeed she does -- '80s-style synths reminiscent of classic Jam and Lewis, but with a bouncy Pharrell beat.

4 Minutes 4:04

If you don't recognize the clattery percussion, tipsy synth-horns and insistent JT vocals on this ubiquitous hit single, we have just one question: How long were you in the coma?

Give It 2 Me 4:47

The AutoTuned vocals are fine and the chorus is catchy -- but frankly, Pharrell's rubbery electro-ska groove and beeping-synth melody are the real stars of the show.

Heartbeat 4:03

Madge takes it down just a notch with this gently pulsing dance-pop bauble. The lyrics are apparently an ode to the cardiovascular benefits of getting down with your booty.

Miles Away 4:48

Mrs. Ritchie dishes on long-distance relationships -- "You always have the biggest heart when we're 6,000 miles apart" -- over a Spanish guitar and a Latin-flecked rhythm.

She's Not Me 6:04

Pharrell offers a blast from disco past -- complete with four-on-the-floor beat, funky bass, slinky guitar, dry-ice synths, fake handclaps and even an extended dance-mix middle.

Incredible 6:19

Another long-winded Williams workout, anchored by a bumpy beatbox and jittery production that contrast with Madonna's sweet vocal and lyrics such as "life is beautiful."

Beat Goes On 4:26

Kanye West co-produces this twinkly little neo-disco ditty -- and adds one of his typically self-aggrandizing raps. Is there anybody this dude won't try to one-up?

Dance 2night 5:03

Timba-lake return with a slice of lush disco-funk, with a buzzy bass lick that works the laid-back bottom end as chiming synths and guitars mix it up on top.

Spanish Lesson 3:37

Ah, jess. La musica de los Madonna. While Pharrell blends flamenco guitars, a Latin rhythm and some faux toreador horns, Madonna practises conjugation for her trip to Cabo.

Devil Wouldn't Recognize You 5:09

Quivery synths and acoustic guitar arpeggios layered over a heartbeat backbeat -- plus rainstorm effects in the middle? Yep, it's a ballad.

Voices 3:39

Strings, piano, a tolling bell and even kettle drums add a few touches of class to the disc's denouement -- but without getting in the way of T and T's dance-floor funk.

Madonna makes producers, producers don't make Madonna. The diva plucked William Orbit, Mirwais and Stuart Price from electronic music obscurity, meshing her own pop sensibility with their sonic specialty. But for "Hard Candy," Madge hooked up with name-brand guys like the Neptunes and Timbaland, and even brought on Justin Timberlake as a writing partner. What results is, expectedly, of-the-moment and radio-ready. "4 Minutes," with Timberlake, is already a top three Billboard Hot 100 hit, and harmonious ballad "Miles Away" might be some of her best work yet. But it feels familiar. "Miles" is a close cousin to Timbaland's "Apologize," "Spanish Lesson" is a dead ringer for N*E*R*D's "She Likes to Move," and "Devil Wouldn't Recognize You" instantly recalls Timberlake's "Cry Me a River." That's par for pop acts when they collaborate with producers who are bigger stars than they are. But for a vanguard artist like Madonna, it feels like a bit of a concession. - Kerri Mason

All through her career, it has been impossible to divorce Madonna's music from her image, as they feed off each other to the point where it's hard to tell which came first, the concept or the songs. Glancing at the aggressively ugly cover to Hard Candy -- its blistering pinks and assaultive leather suggesting a cheap bottom barrel porno -- it's hard not to wish that this is the one time Madge broke from tradition, offering music that wasn't quite as garish as her graphics. That is not the case. Hard Candy is all brutal hard edges and blaring primary colors, a relentlessly mercenary collection of cold beats and chilly innuendo. Sex has always been a driving force for Madonna, but she's never been as ruthlessly pornographic as she is here, not even when she cut Erotica as a companion to her soft-core coffee table book Sex back in 1992. For all of its carnality Erotica was coy, belonging to the classic burlesque teasing tradition, but Hard Candy is utterly modern, a steely sex album for the age of Cialisis. This new millennium is also an era where Top 40 has pretty much ceased to exist and a pop artist as sharp as Madonna knows this, so she has abandoned the idea of a big crossover hit - the kind that Erotica courted with such gorgeous, shimmering adult contemporary ballads as "Rain" and "Bad Girl" - and pitches Hard Candy directly toward her core audience of club-conscious, fashion-forward trend-setters.

This is a smart play, as this is the audience that's always consisted of Madonna loyalists, and it's also is a savvy way to negotiate the explosion of niches in 2008, but there problems in her execution. Madonna relies on the Neptunes and the pair of Timbaland and Justin Timberlake for most of her modern makeover - a good idea in theory as they are some of the biggest hitmakers of the decade, but the productions they've constructed here sound a couple years old at best and at worst feel like they're dressing Madonna in Nelly Furtado's promiscuous hand-me-downs. Sometimes this can result in reasonably appealing grooves - "Candy Shop" captures Pharrell Williams' flair for slim, sleek grooves, "Dance 2night" conjures Timberlake's Off the Wall obsession nicely and the icy heartbreak of "Miles Away" is a worthy successor to "What Goes Around Comes Around" -- but this also points out the album's main flaw: the track comes before the song. Madonna's greatness has always hinged on how she channeled dance trends into pop songs, placing equal emphasis on sound and melody, which provided a neat way to sneak underground club trends into the mainstream. Here, she cedes melodic hooks to rhythmic hooks - witness the clanging, cluttered "4 Minutes" where she's drowned out by Timbaland's farting four-note synth -- which might not have been so bad if the tracks were fresher and if the whole enterprise didn't feel quite so joylessly mechanical. Madonna doesn't even sound desperate to sit atop of current trends; rather, she's following them because she's expected to do so. There's a palpable sense of disinterest here, as if she just handed the reigns over to Pharrell and TimbaLake, trusting them to polish up this piece of stale candy. Maybe she's not into the music, maybe she's just running out this last album for Warner before she moves onto the greener pastures of Live Nation -- either way, Hard Candy is as a rare thing: a lifeless Madonna album.

Back to bubblegum basics for the Material Girl

Of all the Mouseketeers and Madonnabees of 21st century pop, it's Justin Timberlake who's most cannily emulated La Ciccone in his extending his pop shelflife without going bland or barmy. And so, with her magpie eye for a successful formula, Her Madge returns for album eleven by hooking up with the golden boy, with collaborators Timbaland and The Neptunes in tow.

Surprisingly the results speak less to contemporary avant RnB - though the opening "Candy Shop" is Pharrell's latest retread of "Milkshake" - than to her original early 80s incarnation as disco protegee of Jellybean Benitez. "Can't you see, when I dance I feel free" she sings on "Heartbeat", echoing "Into The Groove", and though it sometimes plays safe, Hard Candy could be her most unpretentious and consistently enjoyable pop record since Like A Virgin.

3 out of 5 stars

The material girl has abandoned the pulpit for the dancefloor, writes Jon Pareles.

When in doubt, take Madonna at face value. Since the beginning of her career, she has telegraphed her intentions and labelled herself more efficiently than any observer. She has titled albums Music, Erotica and, in 2005, Confessions On A Dance Floor for a collection that mingled personal and biblical reflections with club grooves. Flaunting her ever-changing image, she named one tour Who's That Girl?, another Re-Invention.

She's just as blunt on her 11th studio album, Hard Candy (Warner Brothers), which is released today. There's no question that this album aims to please - and it does. "See which flavour you like and I'll have it for you," she promises in Candy Shop, and she follows through: "Come on into my store/I got candy galore."

That's a come-on, of course, but it's also a statement of purpose. Hard Candy is devoted to the instant gratification of a musical sweet tooth and, equally important, to the continuing commercial potency of "my store".

Madonna turns 50 in August. The one-time club-hopping Boy Toy is now a married mother of three who's making a midlife job change. She's leaving behind her career-long major-label contract for a deal with the concert promotion giant Live Nation that will keep her on the road and making albums over the next decade.

Hard Candy is Madonna's last album of new material for Warner Brothers Records, which says she has sold more than 200 million albums worldwide (via the Sire label and later her own Maverick) since her career began in 1982. It doesn't burn bridges with her major label. It's the kind of album a record company longs for in this embattled market: a set of catchy, easily digestible, mass-appeal songs by a star who's not taking chances.

Madonna sets aside her avant-pop and do-gooder impulses on Hard Candy. Instead of introducing little-known dance-world producers into the mainstream, she is working with established hit makers. Instead of arty provocations, she's polishing the basics of verse-chorus-verse. And instead of another full-scale reinvention, she's looking back, deliberately echoing the sound of her early years, with a ProTools facelift.

When she's not urging a listener to dance or "undress me", Madonna uses Hard Candy to renew her brand and defy sceptics, yet again. Sometimes she gets defensive, and her best defence is a sleek dance beat. Hard Candy, despite some filler, has plenty of them.

Alongside whatever she has offered her audience through the years - sex, glamour, dancing, defiance, blasphemy, spirituality - Madonna has never pretended to be anything but diligent. She's disciplined, hard-working and determined to sell. For Madonna as a pop archetype, the truest pleasure isn't momentary physical ecstasy or divine rapture but success. She labelled that impulse too in an early tour: Blond Ambition.

Presenting herself not only as an object of desire but as a material girl with her eye on the profits was one of the many smart moves she made from the beginning. By flaunting her control and her triumphs, Madonna gave fans a stake in her long-term prospects.

Madonna's financial future is by no means precarious now that she's on her own. In a so-called "360 deal" reportedly worth as much as $US120 million ($127 million), Live Nation will handle her output, encompassing albums, ticket sales, licensing and merchandising. "I'll be your one-stop candy shop/Everything that I got," she sings, appropriately.

Well, not everything. Madonna was getting mighty serious on her 21st-century albums American Life and Confessions On A Dance Floor. During last year's Confessions tour, Madonna melded her longtime hobby of Christianity baiting with her newer charitable cause. She sang Live To Tell from a crucifix with disco-ball mirrors, wearing a crown of thorns, while video images of suffering Africans were shown. Last year at the Live Earth concert she introduced a would-be environmental anthem, Hey You, that tried and failed to be her equivalent of John Lennon's Imagine. The song came and went, raising some corporate donations, but does not appear on the new album.

The closest Hard Candy gets to social consciousness is 4 Minutes, which has a clock ticking and Justin Timberlake singing, "We only got four minutes to save the world!" in his best Michael Jackson imitation. But the rest of the song's lyrics just make those four minutes sound like they're time for a quickie, or perhaps the length of a pop hit.

More than ever, 21st-century pop performers live by the popularity of one four-minute song at a time, to be quickly exploited as a single before listeners move on. Madonna clearly intends to stay competitive, and her talents suit an era when staccato, electronic pop makes perfect ring tones.

Madonna wrote the songs on Hard Candy with Timberlake and with Pharrell Williams of the Neptunes. The producer, Timbaland, adds his touches; Kanye West drops by to rap on Beat Goes On. They're all established hit makers, as well as some of the most clever hook-makers alive.

Choosing those collaborators is a change of strategy for Madonna. In past albums she used her cool-hunting radar to seek out lesser-known figures - Jellybean Benitez and Patrick Leonard in the 1980s, Mirwais Ahmadzai and Stuart David Price (aka Jacques Lu Cont) in the 2000s - who could ride her pop instincts into the mainstream.

The sound of Hard Candy is partly the sound of an era when New York dance clubs were an experiment in improbable social interactions - gays, socialites, breakdancers, artists - that became a pipeline to pop radio. Like Moby on his new album, Last Night, Madonna can't help looking back fondly on her younger days.

She has had more profound moments - Like A Prayer, Ray Of Light - but not every pop star is cut out for full-time profundity. This time, concocting new ditties that will have her audiences singing along, she was smart to stay shallow.

A couple of years ago, 50 Cent opened a boutique with the hit Candy Shop. Now it's time for Madonna to lead us up the path to her own confectioner's shop, one that is alas limited in flavours. There are only two, to be precise: not so sweet and downright unsavoury.

2 out of 5

Full Review

More than a quarter-century after debut single Everybody got everybody dancing, Madonna has yet to be demoted to Immaterial Girl, even in this age of flash-in-the-pantheon stars.

"Don't stop me now, don't need to catch my breath," she defiantly sings on her new track Give It 2 Me. "I can go on and on and on."

So it seems. It's one of a dozen cuts on her Hard Candy disc, out Tuesday with assists from Justin Timberlake, Timbaland and Pharrell Williams. She also has directed the comedy Filth and Wisdom and produced and written a documentary, I Am Because We Are, about AIDS orphans in Malawi. That's where she found David Banda, the 2-year-old she and filmmaker husband Guy Ritchie are adopting.

Madonna chats from her London home:

Q: Why these collaborators?

A: I love their records, and they bring out the best in other people. I thought we could play to each other's strengths. I decided to work with singers, songwriters and producers who are artists in their own right and see what that would manifest.

Q: Did you instantly click?

A: No, I don't think you do with anyone. I'd met them before in social circumstances. It's quite different when you sit down and say, "Let's write a song." You're putting yourself in a vulnerable position. Will they think my ideas are stupid? Can I speak freely without hurting anyone's feelings? That's awkward. They're personable, and nobody was unprofessional.

Q: What inspired Hard Candy's urgent, mobilizing fervor?

A: We don't have the luxury of thinking someone else is going to take care of our problems. Obviously, I've been focused on the world around me and taking responsibility for the past few years. (Candy) also is about life's surprises and trust and disappointment, about finding out that people I thought were my friends weren't. It's staying flexible, not being married to any fixed idea and not taking anything too literally.

Q: She's Not Me could be a response to Madonna wannabes.

A: I wasn't thinking about that. I'm very happy if what I do and what I've accomplished has inspired other women or given them a sense of ownership of their destiny. I don't think anyone is trying to be me. To me, (She's Not Me) is the ultimate jilted lover song. The follow-up to I Will Survive, maybe a little angrier.

Q: Work often separates you and Guy, which you address with some sadness in Miles Away.

A: That's the drawback of two artists living together. We have to make sacrifices, and there's always a trade-off. It's about long-distance relationships in general. After I wrote it, the guys in the studio were like, "I can totally relate."

Q: Is the media spotlight less welcome now that the cameras are on your family?

A: Attention on the adoption bothered me because it will filter down to my other children (Lourdes, 11, and Rocco, 7), and it's hard for them to understand why anyone would get mad at me for saving someone's life. We have a basic understanding in this house that most things written in newspapers and magazines aren't true.

Q: What's your reaction to the microscope Britney Spears has been under the past year?

A: I have a lot of compassion for her. People are being entertained by her suffering. I don't condone it, and it makes me sad.

Q: You turn 50 on Aug. 16. Any dread about that milestone?

A: I love birthdays. You get to have a party and people give you presents. I don't think this year is any more significant than last year.

Q: Reports keep surfacing that you've had cosmetic surgery. Sharon Osbourne rather indelicately said, "I went into shock at Madonna's new head." Do you want to respond?

A: There's something undignified about commenting on someone else's commentary. I don't mind what she says or doesn't say.

Q: As someone on the cutting edge of trends, do you think the best music gets heard?

A: Not necessarily. If a fire engine's blaring in my ear, I'm not going to hear the fantastic mandolin next to me. Everything is about instant gratification and shorter shelf life. Someone who's offering subtleties won't make an impact. We live in a world full of distractions.

Q: Did your induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last month feel a bit premature?

A: Kind of. I was thinking: "But I'm not done yet. I don't want to be in a museum." I had to stop and look at it as an acknowledgement of the work I've done. The footage they showed was predominantly from the first 10 years of my career, and it seems like centuries ago. I've gone through a million revolutions and evolutions since then.

source : usatoday.com

In your local newsagent, Madonna currently stares down from four magazine covers. One of them belongs to a style magazine, celebrating the release of Hard Candy with a Madonna special that goes on and on like the old girl's career. Its 70 pages commence with an unwittingly hilarious interview. The journalist quotes Hard Candy's lyrics with a solemnity that suggests the words have been handed to him on tablets of stone. Every line is granted its own paragraph, as befits such sage words of profundity: "See my booty get down."

The album itself is described as "the next genre flux, a sonic collage ... the sound of a self-satisfied America teetering on the edge of nihilism", which is certainly one way of saying that it sounds like Justin Timberlake's last album. Indeed, the FutureSex/Lovesounds team - producers Timbaland and Danja, and Timberlake himself - are present for half of Hard Candy, a mixed blessing.

At its best, Futuresex/Lovesounds was a marvellous, forward-thinking pop/R&B album. But they've stuck rigidly to the formula of honking rave synthesisers, sweaty funk riffs, clattering beats - and it sounds less startling second time around. Not having to come up with any new ideas has allowed Timberlake more time to indulge in his famous hobby of thoroughly establishing that he enjoys having sex, apparently in the belief that this makes him unique. That may be linked to spending the early Noughties squiring pop's most famous virgin: if you had lived your teens and early 20s with the entire civilised world certain you weren't getting any, you too might tend to overstate the case in later life. But umpteen World's Sexiest Man awards later, there's still something unconvincing about his Don Juan routine. "Madonna," he husks, "I'm taking you to the club." It's clearly meant to be an invitation laden with erotic portent, but it somehow makes you think of a taxi driver, dolefully confirming a destination.

Timberlake and co's approach is firmly rooted in R&B. It's about grooves rather than memorable songs, and Madonna just doesn't make for a convincing soul diva. Anyone fearful for the Ritchie marriage's future should be less worried by the lyrics of Miles Away - which imply Madonna prefers to be where her husband isn't - than the fact that she sings them with the emotional engagement of a sat-nav suggesting a right turn onto the A23. Thankfully, production duo the Neptunes ride to Hard Candy's rescue, armed with an understanding that Madonna's strength lies in helming a gleaming pop song - Incredible welds a charmingly flowery, Cherish-ish tune to heavyweight beats. Give It 2 Me has a peculiar lope somewhere between ska and Rick James' Super Freak. She's Not Me starts out as Chic-ish disco, features a pounding guitar-heavy middle eight, then becomes Daft Punk-inspired techno.

Perhaps Timberlake et al were just frozen into inaction, as overawed as our style-mag chum by the star's sheer celebrity and cultural impact: however famous and successful you may be, you're not as famous and successful as Madonna. She has claimed her collaborators weren't above cracking jokes at her expense, but their boldness evidently didn't extend to suggesting she do something about her lyrics, which are appalling. On Dance 2night, she once again furnishes a grateful world with the red-hot information that being wealthy and attractive doesn't automatically make you a nice person: "You don't have to be rich and famous to be good." You can't argue with the sentiment, but there's something a bit galling about the way she says something like this on every album she makes, as if she keeps forgetting it, only to be reminded en route to the studio.

Then there's Spanish Lessons, which would be a fantastic song - its flamenco guitar dragged from the realm of cliche by a startlingly propulsive rhythm track - were it not for the lyrics. These are bilingual - "Te quiero means 'I love you" ... Besame means 'kiss me' ... Callate means 'close your mouth'," the latter phrase handy if you're ever find yourself opposite a messy eater in Malaga. In the spirit of the song, it should be pointed that they're a frightful load of viejo cojones. "When you do your homework, get up on the dancefloor," she offers. Que?

Hard Candy is a let-down after 2005's triumphant Confessions on a Dancefloor. Still, your disappointment is tempered by the certainty that there'll be another Madonna album along in a bit, and it would be a foolish man who wrote off her chances of scaling the heights again. "I can go on and on," she sings on a track called Heartbeat. Twenty-six years into her career, who would doubt it?

3 out of 5

She may be fast approaching her half century - which arrives in August - but Madonna is not about to gracefully step aside and become a shy retiring elder stateswoman of pop.

In the past, (very) old boyfriends - Warren Beatty - were embarassed by her antics. Now it's the turn of her daughter Lourdes.

From the opening title track of Hard Candy, it sounds as if one of the great British cultural legacies she has readily clasped to her bosom is that of the Carry On movie.

While producer Pharrell Williams of The Neptunes cranks up the sugary beats, she plays the ever-attentive Italian Mama. But when she offers up her sweet and sticky confection and sings "Don't pretend you're not hungry because there's plenty to eat", you get the idea Madge's kitchen isn't strictly in Delia Smith or Nigella Lawson territory.

Humour and sex have long been Madonna staples and they run naturally through the creamy harmonies, nutty rhythms and state of the art dance manoeuvres of Hard Candy like lettering through a stick of rock.

With a phalanx of heavy hitters - Timbaland, Kanye West and Justin Timberlake - onside, Hard Candy takes no chances.

Sticking to the disco/R&B pop script of the career- reviving, 10 million-selling Confessions On A Dancefloor, it's hardly groundbreaking in the way Madge once was. But that's no crime.

The insatiable Give It 2 Me is classic Madonna, and elsewhere other pleasures abound. There's multi-layered majesty on Devil Wouldn't Recognize You, a clammy tale of desire, and the sussed and wry putdown of She's Not Me, where La Ciccone is in tunefully vengeful mode.

On Dance 2Night, she doffs a tweed cap to the wonders of vintage Prince and Jacko in a song that's at least 100 times better than the recent Sir Paul Macca tune of the same name.

No matter how virulent the campaign becomes to make Madge, ahem, "act her age", the lady holds her own. How many other near-fiftysomethings - of either gender - are sufficently in tune with their inner mojo to invite you to "see my booty get down" and still sound sexy?

Putting its nailfiling moments (the aptly named Miles Away) aside, Hard Candy is a mouthwatering proposition. It's just a pity she didn't think to provide promotional napkins to mop up after all the drooling

4 out of 5

Madonna - Hard Candy

Rating ***

A Madonna album these days is far more than the songs she's written or co-written.

It's about the team she has assembled to work their production magic.

But for Hard Candy, The Material Girl's 11th studio album, you can't help but think she's been left in the starting blocks.

In the past Stuart Price on Confessions On A Dance Floor, William Orbit on Ray Of Light and Mirwais on Music, all got it right.

This time, she has employed the talents of The Neptunes, Timbaland, Danja Hills and Justin Timberlake - but haven't we heard it all before?

Where's the originality we expect from the Queen Of Reinvention? You can't turn on the radio these days without hearing a Pharrell/Danja/Timbaland or Timberlake enhanced song.

Gwen Stefani, Nelly Furtado and Britney Spears all got in there first, working with the überproducers well before Madge got a sniff, and it kinda spoils her track record of leading the way.

Opening track Candy Shop is Madge's favourite track on the album. Produced by The Neptunes, like six other tracks on Hard Candy, it oozes lyrics full of sexual innuendo but sounds like cheap talk coming from a woman pushing 50.

The horn-filled 4 Minutes - the current UK No1 - fares better and features Justin Timberlake, who co-writes five tracks (though it's Justin who steals the limelight on this jaunty track). Next single Give It 2 Me is a pure Neptunes winner.

A bouncing beat with vocoder vocals, it's one of the pure pop moments. Miles Away is more urban in style and begins with a summery acoustic guitar and is by far the best track.

She's Not Me has all the makings of a brilliant track - the funky guitar intro is a throwback to her Eighties heyday. But Madonna's harsh vocals can't carry the sweet melody.

Another Pharrell-produced number, Beat Goes On sees rapper Kanye West join in.

Spanish Lesson is worth a mention simply for being so bad. It's up there with American Life and Hanky Panky for "Worst Madonna Track Ever". Her multilingual mutterings make this song bottom of the class.

The problem with Hard Candy is that it just doesn't suit Madonna's style.

This album would be better if it didn't have her on vocals. Her thin voice fails to blend with the hip-hop vibe.

After Confessions On A Dance Floor which proved she was still Queen Of Disco, her hip-hop venture doesn't work.

Let's hope her next CD is a return to her pop roots to get us back into the groove.

source : the sun

Madonna - "Hard Candy"
**** - Critic's Choice

Rocking a blinged-out boxing belt emblazoned with a big M, Madonna strikes a prizefighter pose on the cover of her new disc. A Hard Candy - the early frontrunner for party album of the year - shows that at, nearly 50, she's still the undisputed champion of pop diva. But she's not the only heavyweight in the mix : Justin Timberlake, Timbaland and Pharrell Williams make for a knockout writing and production team. The three, who combined to give a killer R&B-dance edge to JT's Justified, do the same for Hard Candy, making it a hipper, hotter and more urban version of Confessions On A Dance Floor.
Madonna proves that even a diva like her can play well with others, sharing the spotlight with the Tims on the Big Event single "4 Minutes." But as demonstrated by the synth-propelled highlight "Give It 2 Me," a classic Madonna anthem, she's still at her best when it's all about her.

When an early version of "Candy Shop" leaked last summer, Madonna deserved the benefit of the doubt, as every artist does when it comes to unreleased demos, particularly in the Internet age, when fans can gain access to failed experiments that should have never left the confines of a recording studio. But the inclusion of this virtually unchanged track, which is as catchy as a stomach virus and just as vile, on the singer's new album, Hard Candy, and the fact that Madonna reportedly wanted the song to be its first single, seemed to point to her seriously faltering instincts as not only an arbiter of what's hip but of good taste in general. Comparing oral sex to fine dining on 1992's "Where Life Begins" seemed daring, chic, and witty, but here she likens her clitoris to the front door of a confectionary and she wants us to know her sugar is "sticky and sweet"--all set to Pharrell's tired paint-can beats. The song is neither sexy nor campy, and somewhere, Dita is throwing her head back, laughing hysterically, and cracking her whip in disapproval.

For all the criticism she received at the time, there was an authenticity to Madonna's appropriation of black music and culture in the early '90s. House music and hip-hop were frequent bedfellows, and Erotica--with production work from Andre Betts and featuring, yes, Dita rapping without so much as a peep from the white rock press--is a testament to that. The notion that Madonna was somehow "selling out" with her next album, Bedtime Stories, was a dubious complaint considering she's an artist whose first goal was to rule the world and whose second was to maintain that reign (it's telling that the very first lyric of Hard Candy is "Say which flavor you like and I'll have it for you"--such an accommodating hostess!). And in hindsight, Bedtime Stories wasn't too far behind the curve; urban music, after all, was only just starting its own worldwide dominance in 1994.

If hip-hop seems like a put-on now, it's because her Madgesty has fashioned herself into a lady of the manor in the British countryside, and instead of bedding Dennis Rodman, she's making the bed for Guy Ritchie and three kids. Okay, so that might be a stretch, but she does fancy herself a domestic goddess. As with Bedtime Stories, though, the real issue isn't that Madonna is once again making "black music," but who she's making it with. There are myriad hip-hop producers out there who could have helped Madonna achieve a more urban sound (U.K. bassline artist T2 was at one point a rumored collaborator) while at the same time giving the project an underground edge (something for which even Madonna's biggest detractors would admit she has a knack), but she instead chose to hire two of the most ubiquitous hip-hop knob-twirlers--and I use that term figuratively, particularly for Timbaland--of the last decade.

The Neptunes-helmed "Candy Shop" is so disappointing, and Timbaland and Justin Timberlake's "4 Minutes" such a blatant advertisement for the rest of the album, that it is with genuine surprise that I say that not only is the album palatable, but--and I apologize in advance for this and all subsequent but unavoidable candy metaphors--Pharrell delivers its tastiest morsels. "Beat Goes On," the other track that leaked last year, has inexplicably lost its definite article but gained a Kanye guest spot and a flattering sonic facelift that transports it from 2001 to 1979. Disco (of both the purist late-'70s and more covert early-'80s electro varieties), it seems, provides Hard Candy with its juicy center while hip-hop merely serves as a crunchy shell. We caught a glimpse of the all-American, Detroit-reared, rebel spirit that made Ciccone a star at last month's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony, and though her rise to fame in the Big Apple didn't quite coincide with Studio 54's heyday, she sounds at home among all the disco strings, toots, beeps, whistles, handclaps, and Chic guitar licks of tracks like "Beat" and "She's Not Me."

Pharrell makes his presence known a little too much, and the same kitchen-sink production approach that marred Gwen Stefani's "Wind It Up" rears its overzealous head on "Incredible," but he also manages to get Madonna to stretch vocally in ways she hasn't since Evita. That is, when she's not doing cheeky drag queen impersonations, with trannie-fierce moments sprinkled liberally throughout "Candy Shop" ("My sugar is raw"), "Heartbeat" ("See my booty get down"), and "Spanish Lesson" ("Work!"). One of those moments ("Get stupid, don't stop it," from second single "Give It 2 Me") is, well, just plain stupid, but stupidity is one of the album's main themes--and virtues. "Heartbeat" could have been sung by any number of anonymous female pop singers from the '80s...and that's exactly the point. After 25 years in the business, Madonna knows she's beyond informing the zeitgeist and she's more than content to mine her influences--not to mention her own catalog, giving nods to "Into the Groove," "Hung Up," and her work with William Orbit--while at the same time borrowing a page from one of today's biggest pop stars.

Madonna advises said pop star on the key to creative/sexual/calisthenic endurance on "Dance 2Night," the second of two duets with Timberlake: "Are you a one-trick pony or do you want to keep runnin' this race?" The entire album is a self-declaration of Madonna's stamina, but it also reflects a woman who clearly feels like she's in a furious battle against time. Her legacy is already assured, so scoring another U.S. hit is just icing on the cake but she acts like she doesn't know it. With Pharrell providing the vintage party favors, Timbaland and Timberlake are the album's insurance policy; "Miles Away," "Devil Wouldn't Recognize You," and, of course, "4 Minutes," bear the pair's distinct, modern stamp, making Hard Candy more than just a throwback to Donna Summer, Anita Ward, and quaaludes.

In many ways, Hard Candy is the album Confessions on a Dance Floor was supposed to be, both in terms of musical style (despite the feathered hair and leotards, Confessions was more Eurotrash--and I use that term affectionately--than Eurodisco) and overall progression (French producer Mirwais' use of Autotune--years before T-Pain, thankyouverymuch--and glitchy synths was European, to be sure, but his heavy beats and use of acoustic guitars was patently American, to say nothing of Madonna's collaborations with Timbo cohort Missy Elliott, whose absence here hasn't gone unnoticed). Madonna hasn't delivered this many vapid floor fillers on one disc since her debut, and maybe not even then. Aside from a little careerism on the dance floor ("Give me a record and I'll break it," she dares on "Give It 2 Me"--okay, Mimi), there are few confessions here--nothing political, nothing too spiritual, no talk of fame, war, or the media. It's just what America ordered.

3.5 out of 5

"Hard Candy" (Warner Bros. Records) * * *

Before "Hard Candy," her 11th studio album, due out Tuesday, Madonna had never before opened her legs for an album cover. Two decades ago, her patchouli-scented belly adorned the sleeve of the intimate "Like a Prayer," and in 2005 she showed a bit of derriere for the disco-nostalgic "Confessions on a Dance Floor." She's played with self-exposure in her scandalous 1992 book, "Sex," and in plenty of videos. But now the mistress of organized fantasy has put out, front and center.

Taken by her frequent collaborator Steven Klein (whose spread-eagle shots of Madge have appeared in magazines, including this month's "Interview," and art galleries), the photograph shows its subject sitting back like a fighter in a corner. She's corset-clad, wrestling belt around her waist, binding her hands with black tape. Her tongue registers more strongly than her half-closed eyes; her hair is styled in an androgynous pompadour. The background looks like cracked peppermint. She is Venus and Mars, the embod