Like A Prayer

 "...as close to art as pop music gets."

Rolling Stone 

Madonna's Like A Prayer turned 25 years old this month. I repeat, 25 years old.

Allow that to sink in for a minute. Shake your head, despair at where the time has disappeared to, embrace the sharp pang of nostalgia that wallops you in the face and then - rejoice. Find it on iTunes. Dance liberally. Dig out your beaded crucifix and faded denim and channel late 80s / early 90s. Remind yourself what an incredible album it is.

I was 11 years old when Like A Prayer was unleashed on the world with a distorted guitar riff, a church door slam and an oo from the euphoric gospel choir. It was a simple, carefree kind of time for me with cassette tapes and record vouchers, Smash Hits magazine and hanging out at the Streatham Ice Rink disco looking for boys (I mean perfecting my skate) before hopping on the bus home for dinner and Saturday evening TV.

I thought I knew everything I needed to know, but really I didn't know very much at all. But when I heard the album, I knew, just KNEW, it was something really very special. I already loved Madonna: The First Album, Like a Virgin and True Blue but in my opinion this was her seminal work. Madonna had grown up.

Like a Prayer was released on 21 March 1989 by Sire/Warner Bros. Records, and was Madonna's fourth studio album. Praised by critics and fans, it reached the top of the charts all over the world staying at the top of the Billboard 200 chart for one month and reaching No.1 in the UK Albums chart. Produced and written by Stephen Bray and Patrick Leonard, Madonna co-wrote and co-produced every song on the album and it went on to sell over 15 million copies worldwide.

Like a Prayer is a multifarious collection, and it is the variety that keeps it fresh 25 years on, layered with celebrated pop classics, deeply personal ballads and candy sweet lullabies. Introspective, it covers a multitude of themes including religion, empowerment, crazy love, unbearable pain and family loyalty over 11 brilliant songs.

When I first heard the title track Like A Prayer I didn't know quite what had hit me. This was of course pre-downloads, before the immediacy and easy availability of iTunes, Google and Twitter, and I waited impatiently for it to be played on the radio, then listened over and over on cassette when I finally had my own copy. It was a captivating, innocent time when you waited with excited anticipation to buy a single or album on the release date. When MTV would proudly announce the UK PREMIERE of a naughty Madonna video NEXT MONDAY AT 10PM, and you would wait a week and stay up late to watch it rather than simply YouTube it.

It is a powerhouse of a song; a rapturous gospel choir, Madonna's euphonic vocals and the evocative lyrics. My own religious belief extended only to a casual Sunday Service and winning Explorer of the Year at Girls' Brigade a few years back, but Oh God, I thought I was falling. Then I saw the accompanying music video.

Teeming with Catholic iconography, Madonna dances in THAT dress in front of burning crosses, shows bleeding stigmata as though she has survived a crucifixion, and kisses a black saint played by Leon Robertson. Condemned by the Vatican and causing Pepsi to cancel its sponsorship contract with Madonna, it was provocative and brilliant. To this day Like A Prayer remains one of my favourite songs ever recorded. It hasn't corroded and still sounds as fresh now as it did then.

Express Yourself is bold and fierce, channelling female empowerment and telling us girls to never settle for anything less than we are worth. I defy any woman not to smile when they hear 'Come on girls / Do you believe in love?'

Love Song, the duet co-written and performed with Prince, tends to be regarded as the dud one on the album by fans and critics alike, but I disagree. I quite like it, with it's come-hither attitude and smart lyrics. Dear Jessie was a little too saccharine for some people, but not me. With pink elephants and lemonade, it conjures up soothing thoughts of being a child and living in a land of make believe, and the violin piece is undeniably beautiful even if it did precede the rather more sombre introduction of Oh Father.

The album is confessional as well as entertaining. Till Death Do Us Part is about the violent dissolution of Madonna's marriage to Sean Penn and so should be gloomy with it bitterly sad lyrics  - The bruises they will fade away/ You hit so hard with the things you say - but it isn't. Instead it is a great pop song, revealing that Madonna just wanted to be loved, and don't we all?

Cherish is an absolute corker, a beautiful and carefree song that makes me ridiculously happy and buoyant. The music video, shot in black-and-white and directed by Herb Ritts, depicts Madonna looking breathtakingly beautiful frolicking in the sand while mermen whisk up the sparkling foamy ocean with their tails.

Keep it Together is sassy, funky and a nod to Sly & The Family Stone's A Family Affair. As a middle child with a big and little sister not too far apart in age, it really resonated with me. Growing up there were squabbles and involuntary room sharing and the usual craving for our parents attention but the song preaches the importance of family. They are a reminder of your history and blood is thicker than any circumstance.

Like A Prayer has no fillers. Autobiographical, it provides a fascinating insight into Madonna's life, loves and losses at the time and illustrates her compelling artistry and creativity. It still makes me want to sing out loud on the tube, dance around, leaves me unexplainably happy and then gives me a lump in my throat before I know it. It empowers and guides me, reminds me that women are not BOSSY they are dynamic. Like Hadley Freeman cites in her piece for the Guardian, naming it her favourite album, I have an emotional connection to it. It is part of me.

Madonna continues to endure; an idol, an inspiration and a creative force to be reckoned with and Like A Prayer remains culturally relevant after 25 years. It is quite simply an incredible piece of music.

Happy 25th anniversary  - here's to many more.

References and Credits:

'My favourite album: Like A Prayer by Madonna' by Hadley Freeman for the Guardian

Madonna Producer Patrick Leonard Talks 'Like A Prayer' at 25 by Keith Caulfield for Billboard

Like A Prayer: Album Review by J S Considine for Rolling Stone

Lansure's Music Paraphernalia: Madonna

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I'm Going Bananas

Life, eh? What a little b*gger it can be sometimes.

As someone easily embarrassed and prone to calamity, I have experienced my fair share of humiliating minor gaffes. A recent little treat was this:

With tiredness reaching new and interesting levels, I arrived at my office one morning laden with bags, like a donkey, and thus unable to easily locate my security access pass. A kind man came to my rescue and once safely inside the building, I fumbled around in my Mary Poppins bag (one day I will pull out a hat stand) until I finally realised it was tucked safely into my jacket pocket. Feeling triumphant, I decided to take the lift instead of the stairs, taking a crazy diversion to my morning routine.

Said lift was jam-packed with bleary-eyed workers and as I was the last one in, lift-etiquette dictated that I was the one to kick off our upward journey using my pass to activate the sensor. I attempted this by bending my knees, awkwardly, and swiping my coat pocket across the sensor in the hope it would send us on our merry way. It didn't. I tried again. Nothing. In effect, I pelvic-thrusted the lift sensor, twice, in front of a group of strangers. Someone coughed nervously. Determined not to be beaten, I gave it one more thrust and finally we were on our way up, the uncomfortable silence now deafening.

As we ascended, I concentrated on looking serious, professional, meaning business in a kind of Melanie Griffiths-Working Girl manner. I glanced around the lift in exaggerated impatience at someone's very loud and irritating music, completely unaware that the tinny noise was in fact coming from my own iPhone headphones. It was I'm Going Bananas by Madonna, as featured on the Dick Tracy soundtrack. Which wasn't in the slightest bit embarrassing.

For those unfamiliar with this song, in my opinion, it's a fine piece of music. With a nod to Broadway and a slice of Spanish pop, inspired by the 1940s, it is chirpy, cheepy and makes me think of past car journeys with my parents and two sisters when we were kids and utterly obsessed with the Dick Tracy soundtrack. (Flashback: my Dad finally succumbing to the torture of having to listen to it on repeat 27 times and ejecting the cassette in desperate rage).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-JgNduaHgA&w=560&h=315]

The thing is, it's the kind of song you don't actually want anyone else to know you like. Or have purposely, actively downloaded. Especially as it was recorded in 1990. I only had to travel a single floor to reach my office, but I may as well have climbed the full length of The Shard. I couldn't bear anymore fumbling around to try to de-activate iTunes from my phone (hidden somewhere in the depths of bag), so instead Madonna went bananas and so did everyone else. After what seemed like an hour, we finally reached my floor where I ran to the safe cocoon of my office. Mortified.

It was here where I began to think about embarrassing songs we all secretly store on our playlists. Deeply personal, usually connected to an event or time in our life and accompanied by a heap of memories. We love them but know full well they should never should be given public exposure, certainly not in the workplace. My guilty pleasures include As Long as He Needs Me from the Oliver! Soundtrack - often wandering around London's charming back streets or Theatreland when I'm feeling particularly dramatic, I fancy myself as Nancy belting out the 'ell I've got my pride, AS LONG AS HE NEEDS ME! in all her cockney finery for nasty Bill Sikes - and Alone by Heart that amazing soft-rock classic from the 1980s where the lead singer never really cared until she met you. Utter brilliance.

Fortunately, some dignity has been restored by talking to my friends who confirm they too have some absolute corkers on their pods / pads / devices which they have cared to share with me.

Enjoy.

1. Hanson - MMMBop

It is 1997 again whenever I hear this song.

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2. Backstreet Boys - Quit Playing Games (With my Heart)

Backstreet's back, alright.

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3. Wham! - Wham Rap! (Enjoy What you Do?)

This song defies brilliance. The inclusion of Pepsi and Shirley is almost too much to handle.

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4. The Theme Tune to White Horses by JACKY with Jackie's Lee's

The friend who confessed to this also admitted alcohol may have been involved.

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5. Karyn White - Superwoman

Empowerment in one song.  I've got my pride, I will not cry.

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6. S Club 7 - Reach

Perky.

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7. Girls Aloud - Call the Shots

A fine, fine song. ooh ooh.

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8. Spice Girls - Say You'll Be There

Never ever ever will I get bored of this. Yeaaaaah I want you.

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9. Meat Loaf - Paradise by the Dashboard Light

Makes me want to be a teenager in 1950s America. Perhaps with a different driver.

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10. Alexander Rybak - Fairytale (Eurovision 2009)

Alexander is in love with a Fairytale. Even though it hurts.

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11. Celine Dion - Because You Loved Me

Robert Redford, Michelle Pfeiffer. Newsreaders. Love.

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12. Slade - Far Far Away

Lovely story to this one; it reminds the person of the birth of their first son and made him realise for the first time how much he missed his wife. Lovely.

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13. David Soul - Silver Lady

He won't run out on you again. Believe him.

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14. Dolly Parton - Jolene

No iPod is complete with Dolly. Essential listening.

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15. Salt n Pepa - Push it

There are no words to describe how much I wanted to be Spinderella when I was a child. None.

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16. Tony Christie feat. All Seeing I - Walk Like a Panther

I have never heard this song before. I find it a bit disturbing but thinking about the person makes me smile.

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An excellent selection, and definitely worthy of lift-exposure.

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Pre-Holiday Rules

This bank holiday just passed, Material Whirl jetted off on a fantastic hen weekend to sunny, sunny Spain with a group of six lovely hens.

I had planned to have my size-appropriate suitcase packed in advance and to rest well in the days leading up to the hen to counterbalance the indubitable sleep deprivation ahead. I envisioned a relaxed me wafting effortlessly into Gatwick's North Terminal poised and calm - the embodiment of airport-chic.

HA HA HA. I was the last in the group to arrive; running wildly from the airport terminal shuttle, apologising and slightly clammy and feeling unprepared. A schoolgirl error had been made; I had failed to apply the rather substantial experience gained from many years of holidaying.

I had forgotten my very own Pre-Holiday Rules.

PRE-HOLIDAY RULES

Without fail, I will always...

• End up packing the night before and until at least 1.30 am wailing 'I AM JUST SO TIRED, I CANNOT DO THIS' while hand washing three bikinis, meticulously selecting matching accessories for every single item of clothing and making mental lists out loud, such as 'morning top, top for the pool, top for post-beach cocktails, pre-dinner drinks top, emergency top' etc rather than actually filling my suitcase. All this while my long-suffering and very dear husband looks on despairingly. Or lies on the cool floor, hoping sleep will come soon.

• Add Holiday by Madonna to my iPod track list (sometimes going berserk and adding the You Can Dance Extended Remix) and listen to this en route to the airport or at 6.30 am at home, still packing, and delirious through lack of sleep (see above point).

• Spend a fortune on toiletries prior to the holiday, enough to warrant a possible remortgage of our house, most of which goes towards poxy rip-off miniatures. This also includes the purchase of a complete range of new sun care products in SPF50 - Moisturising Sun Protection with Insect Repellent (in both spray and lotion formats), High Protection Face Moisturiser, Sun Care Balm for Lips, Sun Care Spray for Hair, Moisturising After Sun, Hydrating Tan Optimiser - before finding a replica set on the bottom shelf of the bathroom cabinet the night before. All of this despite the fact I have not had a tan since 1984.

• Purchase at least six vest tops with a stylish 'capsule wardrobe' in mind, even though only questionable colour choices remain as part of a 2-4-1 offer (hello, turdy brown and pallid lilac) and subsequently finding the 'Vest Top Drawer' the night before departure. All of this despite the fact I will bring them all home unworn and put them straight back in the drawer ready to forget next year.

• Run out of room in my suitcase leaving me with no choice but to take unwanted overspill in my hand luggage. I would love to be one of those women who sail through departures with a minimally packed Michael Kors Tote and their passport always conveniently ready to display. I am not. I am the girl with a beach towel stuffed into an already full Oasis holdall, blocking access to essential travel documents, that requires re- packing every time I need to get my sodding purse out.

• Pack enough cosmetics to make up not only my fellow holidaymakers but the entire outward bound flight, forcing the airport security staff to enquire, quite reasonably, if I am a makeup artist by trade. This includes superfluous bronzed-shimmer products and shouty new summer collections such as the must-try eyeshadow in Daisy Yellow or flattering eye pencil in Plum (it's not) even though I will wear my 'work makeup' for the duration of the holiday.

• Obsessively check for my passport and tickets at least nine times en route to the airport, convinced I have neither or have scooped up my expired passport instead, where the photo of me resembles a pale '90s Goth who has listened to far too much teenage-angst rock music.

• Seriously consider purchasing a new padlock at the airport, even though there are at least seven of the little buggers hidden somewhere in the house, possibly in the abyss that is the spare drawer. Or the Vest Top drawer.

• Solemnly promise to myself that drinking before or on the aeroplane is unnecessary and, if the truth be told, uncouth. Cave in after the slightest hint of turbulence (take off) and down a complimentary Vodka and Diet Coke or three. Thus ending up absolutely legless and revealing to Billy and Francis from Jersey my entire life story, deepest secrets and recently developed fear of flying, sobbing into my beverage while they smile politely or pretend to be asleep.

Note to self for next trip: Never forget the holiday rules.

Ever.