Speaking of celebrity cult members, Madonna‘s new album, Confessions on a Dance Floor is surprisingly good. It’s a return to the deeper dance music of the Erotica and Bedtime Stories era, but still more trancey and less pop, and with less of a point to make than either of those albums. It seems to be a sort of re-grouping after the didactic dead end of American Life, its lyrics just a vehicle for what little melody there is.
It’s the kind of album that Moby would do under one of his pseudonyms. There is a certain sameness and anonymity to the individual songs. It’s actually much more interesting as a whole, which is one of the ways the iTunes Music Store sells it, as a sort of trance symphony.