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    <td align="RIGHT"><b><font size="1" color="#FFFFFF"><b>Bars & Music</b></font></b></td>
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          <td valign="TOP" colspan="2"><font color="#FFFFFF" size="1"><b><font size="1" color="#FFFFFF"><b>Bars 
            & Music - </b> E: <a href="mailto:andrew@myvillage.co.uk">andrew@myvillage.co.uk</a></font></b></font></td>
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          <td valign="top" colspan="2"><font size="1" color="#FFFFFF"><b><a name="maddy"></a>Singing 
            in the Reign Madonna Is Still The Undisputed Queen of Pop - 06/07/01</b></font></td>
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            <p><font size="1"> The anticipation alone is astonishing.</font><font size="1">Grown-ups, 
              some of them with jobs and children, are giggling and barging their 
              way through the crowds hastily trying to get to their seats lest 
              they miss anything. Others are busy buying baby-pink cowboy hats 
              for a tenner a go. </font><font size="1">Outside we keep our tickets 
              firmly in our pockets for fear that we might be wrestled to the 
              ground for them by a passing tout. This is, after all, the first 
              of Madonna's UK dates that sold out within minutes of being announced. 
              </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">Inside, the crowd are screaming themselves silly 
              even though the stage is still in darkness. When the Queen of Pop 
              finally arrives they look ready to pass out. Even to the most neutral 
              of onlookers, the sight of Madonna in the flesh can only send shock 
              waves through the system. The fact that she's real, and not just 
              a fantasy figure created for the express purpose of selling magazines 
              and boosting the careers of fashion designers, comes as something 
              of a shock. But there she is, standing at the back of the stage 
              in a Gaultier- designed punk outfit and glistening with real- life 
              sweat. A moving platform propels her slowly, teasingly forwards 
              and 18,000 people simultaneously crane their necks to get a better 
              look. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">Madonna stares unsmilingly out from under her hair 
              as she launches into "Drowned World". Her voice is clear and strong 
              and her presence is great enough to touch all four walls of this 
              vast auditorium. The dancers, careful not to crease their mohicans, 
              wriggle around on the floor with a set of bouncy funnels, the likes 
              of which haven't been seen since Crackerjack. Platforms rise and 
              fall, the ground swallows people up and video screens flash familiar 
              images of Our Lady through the ages. In other words, it's all as 
              you'd expect - expertly orchestrated, extravagant and theatrical 
              to a fault. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">If this event proves anything, it's that behind 
              the stylists, trainers and svengalis lies an intuitive performer. 
              You might even say - whisper it - that she's talented. With barely 
              one live show in seven years (November's Brixton gig doesn't count 
              - it didn't even last half an hour) Madonna would be forgiven for 
              being a little rusty, but tonight's show sees her doing what comes 
              naturally. Certainly, the ease and grace with which she flings herself 
              backwards off a platform into the arms of her minions suggests that 
              those years at dance school weren't entirely wasted. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">The show is built mostly around her last two albums, 
              Ray of Light and Music, a wise choice given that they're her most 
              accomplished records. But her fans, myself among them, would have 
              gladly sold a kidney to hear old hits such as "Vogue" and "Like 
              A Prayer". Not that anyone's complaining. For pure nostalgia, "Holiday" 
              is the best song of the night, not least because our heroine finally 
              breaks into a smile and skips across the stage clicking her fingers. 
              Now there's a Madonna move not seen since about 1985. In contrast, 
              "La Isla Bonita" is given an adult makeover, accompanied by two 
              acoustic guitars and a castanet-wielding Spanish dancer. Oh well. 
              </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">Aside from the odd swear word, there is none of 
              the controversy that has characterised earlier tours. No crucifixes, 
              no pointy bras and little in the way of self-gratification, or at 
              least not in the sexual sense. Instead we get Madonna the Geisha 
              Girl in a striking red and black kimono, closely followed by Madonna 
              the Samurai warrior, sweeping through the air with the help of a 
              fly rig, and taking out her dancers with a series of balletic high-kicks. 
              You fear that she might have lost the plot when she stands alone 
              under the spotlight and slushily dedicates "I Deserve It" to her 
              husband, Guy Ritchie, except that it's actually rather touching. 
              She seems almost, well, human. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">Ritchie's taste for East End thuggery has certainly 
              rubbed off on the missus. One video backdrop bears a grainy close-up 
              of her face, all bruised and bloody. During the Samurai segment 
              she grabs one of her dancers by the head, and cackling triumphantly, 
              breaks his neck. All in a night's work, I suppose. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">Finally we are presented with Madonna, the rhinestone 
              cowgirl. A huge cheer erupts as she shuffles salaciously from side 
              to side and slaps her thighs to "Don't Tell Me". For the umpteenth 
              time, we wish we were her - the cult of Madonna lives on. </font></p>
            <p><font size="1">All in all a triumph then, aside from the odd baffling 
              interlude, such as when she emerges with a guitar for "Candy Perfume 
              Girl". Courtney Love she ain't and Madonna looks about as comfortable 
              as if she had just been handed a chainsaw and told to get to work 
              on a pile of logs. At the end she shoves the guitar aside and shouts 
              "God save the Queen!" in a curious attempt at a cockney accent. 
              The crowd look at their feet. Well, you can't be cool all the time, 
              can you? </font></p>
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