(cross-posted from my Lj)
There is no life without Madonna. Well, not for me, anyway. I literally can’t remember a time when I didn’t love her.
In the huge crush of people waiting to have their tickets scanned (why the ACC only has one entrance, I don’t know), I bumped shoulders with a tiny little blonde woman. I smiled and apologised. Then I said; “Nice to see I’m not the only short person here.” She smiled at me. I couldn’t help thinking about the tiny little blonde woman who was getting dressed backstage.
My seats were better than I thought they’d be. I sat next to a huge family of Italian-looking people who took up almost an entire row. In front of me was a perfectly groomed man with his pregnant wife. He heard I was from Montreal and turned around to smile at me, probably because was a Franco-Ontarian. I asked him how long he’d been a fan and he said; “From the beginning, you know, Borderline and Burning Up.” I love the way Madonna’s singles are milestones, it’s our common language. We don’t give years. We give songs, events. How long have you been a fan? Like A Prayer. Like A Virgin. Evita. Ray Of Light.
Later, when Madonna, was pouting like a Sex Pistol and thumping out the intro for Burning Up on her guitar, I leaned forward, put my hand on his shoulder and said; “You will sing this one with me, right?” He and I danced almost the whole time.
I danced so much that my toe ring, which I have worn for so long that it has molded the skin on my toe, loosened and came off.
Madonna looked so beautiful. Her skin was perfect, pearlescent. Her hairstyle made her look so feminine and maternal, yet young. She was often kneeling onstage before the people she was performing with; Monty, her former guitar teacher (and now lead guitarist), her Scottish Piper, her dancers. She would look up at them with the admiration of a ten-year-old. It was like seeing a Queen bow to her bravest knight.
Walking through downtown Toronto, rowdy people were blasting Madonna songs from their cars and whooping. Two lovely gay men were walking ahead of me. I heard one of them say; “I knew that would happen.”
“I’d be hearing Madonna music all day. Oops, sorry, I mean Esther.”
I snickered, they turned around and saw me, and we ended up chatting.
I love Madonna fans.
Using the surreal and sinister images that Steven Klein shot for his XsTatic Pro=CeSs art installation was a spine-tingling way to open the show. The Beast Within, a song that has Madonna reading from Revelations over decadent electronica, played while the Klein footage ran. The images of the grey wolflike dog, the wedding dress on fire, Madonna in the heavy, formal Christian Lacroix garb were riveting. With the last line; “Behold, I am coming soon,” video-Madonna appeared to pull off her mask. Just before we saw her face, the screens went black.
And the show began.