Confessions on a Dance Floor

(Warner)

4 1/2 stars



Ever since the mid-’80s, the mother of reinvention has been on a quest for enlightenment. On records such as “Like A Virgin” and “Like A Prayer,” Madonna got “Into The Groove” with (unauthorized) inspiration from Catholicism, complete with rosary and a communion-ready white dress.

A decade later, on the critically-acclaimed “Ray of Light,” she boogied to Buddhism. In 2003, she changed her musical inspiration to Kabbalah, the study of Jewish mysticism, on “American Life.” Now, on “Confessions On A Dance Floor,” 48-year-old Madge brings another, deeper religion to the forefront: Disco.

“Confessions” is a sweaty journey through a packed dancehall, with nary a ballad to be found. In her refreshingly bold “Non-Stop Mix,” the dozen songs overlap one another like a DJ starter pack scientifically formulated to simulate the club experience. Upon listening, you can almost feel the bodies rubbing against each other in a disco ball glow.

While her recent work has focused on her politics and the “bigger” questions, “Confessions” steers clear from anything controversial, a big change for the Queen of Pop.

On the track “I Love New York,” in a rare display of self-censorship, she tells Big Apple naysayers to “f-off,” a far cry from her “Erotica” days.

The album’s “future disco” sound is devoid of any meaning. In fact, the album makes a point of being completely shallow. From its lazy lyrics (On “Jump,” she chants “Get ready to jump/Don’t ever look back, baby”) to its simple themes (“Like It Or Not,” “Push,” and, once again, “Jump”), Madonna’s aim is clear: stay on the surface of things.

Madonna realized her vision with producer Stuart Price (also known as Jacques Le Cont and Les Rhymes Digitales), the musical director for her past two world tours, as well as a famed London electronica DJ in his own right.

Price and the Material Girl designed the album to be loud, kaleidoscopic, and dizzying. Tracks such as “Future Lovers,” with its haunting repetition of “In the evidence of it, brilliance” and supersonic synthesizer beats, could cause an epiphonic seizure. He helps Madge narrow her creative focus to dance the night away.

The disc is an amalgamation of the past 30 years in dance music. The jump-out-of-your-seat first single, “Hung Up,” which borrows its unshakable hook from ABBA, is one of the great dance tracks of the year.

“Let It Will Be” features sweeping symphonies and a thumping bass a la “Die Another Day”; synth-heavy “Forbidden Love” recalls Cher’s smash hit “Believe”; and “Get Together” bears a resemblance to Stonebridge’s “Put ‘Em High,” one of the big Europop singles of last year.

The standout “Isaac” was the cause of much criticism for Madonna because she was accused of singing about Kabbalah founder Isaac Ben Luria, which violates Jewish law. (She maintains that the title actually refers to guest vocalist Isaac Sinwany.)

Regardless of to whom the song refers, it’s the only track on the record with a Kabbalist influence. Softly-strummed guitars, Hebrew chanting, and psychedelic humming, along with the prerequisite thumping bass, makes it the most distinctive song on “Confessions,” providing a welcome respite for the parched dancers listening to the album’s continuous mix, before the last two tracks ramp the intensity right back up.

Never has a mid-life crisis been this much fun. “Confessions on a Dance Floor” is an hour-long, non-stop ride that, like a mystical night at a club, ends with nothing fundamentally learned or gained, just a lot of sweat and euphoria. In her new role as high priestess of disco, Madonna wouldn’t have it any other way.