Earlier this week, Madonna caused a minimal stir by sniping at Lady Gaga, referencing her during a concert and adding, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
Wednesday night at Chicago's United Center, the first of two concerts there this week, Madonna again slipped the chorus of Gaga's "Born This Way" into the bridge of her own "Express Yourself" -- it's a seamless match, for sure -- but let it go without comment. Well, almost. She shouted a bit from "She's Not Me" at the end.
It seems like pretty catty paranoia from the indisputable queen of pop, as if the Material Girl -- a 1 percenter if ever there were -- has adopted the Republicans' new slogan ("We built it!") and its false sense of rugged individualism. Madonna broke ground for women in pop during the '80s and easily can justify her worldwide love, but much of her success is a pastiche quilt, a smart synthesis of the best of the best. Wednesday's show only lengthened the long list of film and music artists she herself flatters by imitation.
In fact, the opening of her two-hour concert -- full of the usual impressive showmanship, heavy hoofing, mish-mash religious symbolism and garish exhibitionism -- finds the Gen-X megastar, now 54, retooling gruesome scenes as if acting in a Quentin Tarantino film. (Or is it ex-husband Guy Ritchie's?) Kicking through a church window and brandishing a machine gun, Madonna and her legion of dancers careen through several violent set pieces, including pointing prop weapons into the crowd several times then blowing away various assailants -- their blood splattering across the three-story video screens -- while singing, "I wanna see him die / over and over and over and over ..." ("Gang Bang").
Her typical cheap shock tactics aside, it's not exactly a comfortable thing to watch at the end of this particular summer in Chicago.
In a previous statement, Madge has described this "MDNA" tour, supporting her new album (widely lambasted, though I didn't hate it), as "the journey of a soul from darkness to light," as well as "part spectacle and sometimes intimate performance art." The Broadway-level production does eventually lighten up, though it's mostly artless and nearly all spectacle. Robed monks quickly turn into shirtless hotties ("Girl Gone Wild"), cheerleaders and little drummer boys prance about ("Give Me All Your Luvin'"), there's the requisite cross-dressing and hand jive ("Vogue"), and the whole thing ends in a "Tron"-meets-Tetris, feel-good dance party ("Celebration").
The finest moments, though, are in the middle -- without all the hoopla. She sings "Turn Up the Radio" alone at a mike on the catwalk strumming a guitar, nothing else. "Open Your Heart" becomes a rhythmic Basque arrangement, with the full ensemble of dancers casually hanging like real people instead of choreographed cogs. (Here she's also joined by her 11-year-old son, Rocco Ritchie, busting moves and grinning from ear to ear.) Next, "Holiday" actually feels like one, relaxed and spontaneous.
It's a refreshing, natural few moments, and it gives Madonna a chance to squeeze in some yammering about Oprah (she was last in United Center early last year for the TV host's big farewell) and delivering an impromptu homily about self-empowerment and treating "one another with dignity and respect."
Performer, heal thyself. Your legacy is secure, and it would be cemented for a whole new generation -- Wednesday's crowd was, well, my age -- if you took Gaga under your wing instead of clawing at her all the time. Go teach her a thing or two. Girl needs it.
Note: Those with tickets for the Thursday night show (and babysitters at home) should be aware the posted show time is 8 p.m., but on Wednesday (and at most other shows on the tour) Madonna didn't start until 10:20 p.m. (DJ Paul Oakenfold fills an hour of this time spinning records. Zzzzzzz.)