Reinvent yourself

Wow. The Madonna concert on Sunday night was off the hook. More on that in a moment. The whole day was gay, gay, gay. Thom and I went downtown to Pennsylvania Avenue and caught the last hour or so of the Pride festival… where we took our pants down. Well, we ran into Thom’s friend Paul, who was working the Utilikilts booth, and we tried on some kilts. You know we’re all for men’s unbifurcated garments. They didn’t have one in my size right there, but now I know what size and length to get online. So yeah, we had a nice time strolling along, stopping here and there to check out a few of the booths.

When the festival wrapped up, we headed up 7th Street in search of dinner. Jaleo was packed, so we walked around the corner to Austin Grill instead, where they were already getting into the groove: Madonna songs were playing in a loop on the loudspeaker. (Aside: the two people at the table next to us were having a conversation about the musical Wicked, which one of them had seen and was animatedly describing to the other. I kind of wanted to chime in, but I can never get myself to jump into other people’s conversations, you know?)

So the event of the evening was the Madonna concert at the MCI Center. It was amazing. We were sitting in section 110, in the second row up from the floor, and I have to say, though we were a bit past mid-court, our slightly elevated seats must’ve been better than the (I’m assuming more expensive) floor seats in front of us, especially for us height-challenged people.

The show got started at about 8:30 p.m., and then for two hours it ran nonstop like a well-oiled machine. (Insert innuendo here.) Madonna looked and sounded great. And with the stunning video-art projected onto the huge screens, it was a feast for the senses. Talk about reinvention. Practically every song, old and new, had a new spin: reimagined, rearranged, renewed. “Into the Groove” with bagpipes… and a cameo by Missy Elliott on video? “Die Another Day” as a tango? Yes, you say, bring it on. And such energy. I was up and dancing and singing for most of the show; however, partway through I painfully realized that at the volume I was singing along and cheering, I would lose my voice by the end of the night. So I eased up on the high-pitched squealing. (A hardcore fan in the row in front of us was a bit more enthusiastic; she was kind of scary.)

I’ll save myself the trouble of writing a song-by-song review, and instead link to Andy, who has a comprehensive, spot-on rundown of the L.A. concert, which had basically the same set list. (The entire show seems so meticulously ordered and orchestrated that I can’t imagine it varying much on the road.) The Post review is somewhat lukewarm, but recognizes this was no mere rock concert: “measured in verve, nerve, and technical wizardry, it’s hard to leave this epic extravaganza feeling anything less than awe.” True.