A Mini-Review of Madonna's "MDNA"

So, the E-starved twink buried deep within me (helllooo) had an urge to hear the new Madonna album.

I heard that single and, as much as it made me want to destroy my radio and every device capable of broadcasting said single in a ten miles radius, it was catchy as all get out.

So I listened to the new Madonna album, MDNA, which I thought might have something to do with genetics, but apparently not.

Listening to the new Madonna album can be equated to eating a huge bag of Jolly Ranchers and glitter, then vomiting, then listening to said sparkling, rainbow-colored effluvia while in a club. Her lyrics here reflect nothing of her 12,000 years of pop queendom. In fact, if Britney Spears had recorded and released this album ten years ago, it might have been ground-breaking, but in Madonna’s case…it’s almost like she recalls nothing of her career, it’s like she’s starting over; not in a good or fresh way, on the contrary, it sounds laughably naïve.

This album has depth like a mosquito bite: you scratch it, it feels good in a bad way, then it gets infected and scabby. There are one or two interesting moments on here (“Falling Free” and “I Fucked Up”) and you can not deny the contagious (like the Motaba virus) nature of “Give Me All Your Loving” (I’ll not rape the English language on your behalf, you craggy bint), but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of annoyance while listening to this, as if I were be put upon somehow.

At the end of one of the two songs that grunty, spazzy rapper Nicki Minaj guest stars on, she informs the listener that “there is only one queen” and that “it’s Madonna…bitch.” That last word is almost spat between her gritted teeth, not sounding emphatic here, like a statement of fact,…only desperate, as if saying it loudly and angrily enough will make it so…but it won’t. And neither will removing letters from your name.