Every couple of years, now, I find myself indulging in a bit of fervor. No religious revival for me, nor the frenzied self-righteousness of the political acolyte. No, my diversion is more circumscribed than that: attending a Madonna concert!

This weekend found us in Vancouver for Madge’s Sticky and Sweet Tour. It was fun and entertaining as always. My floor seats were awesome: close enough to the stage that I could clearly see Madonna with the naked eye and actually take in her expressive facial poses with my binoculars. While she looked good in person, I found, interestingly, that the Jumbotrons were rather, uh, unflattering, at least from my angle: weird shadows and too much eyeliner.

It seemed at times as though she was trying to do a more traditional rock concert: she had a hand or stand mike throughout, rather than her Blonde Ambition headset; her costumes were nice but not shocking or over the top; she played her guitar often; and she led the audience in a sing-along. But then again, how traditional can you be when you’re Madonna? The concert also featured, oh, let’s see, a white convertible, a boxing rink, and flamenco dancers. That’s without even mentioning the virtual Britney (which I missed) and the virtual Justin (which I though was cool).[UPDATE: Though not as cool as seeing them both in person, as the lucky Los Angelinos did!]

It was a Big Deal for Madonna to come to Vancouver. Throngs converged on B.C. Place and police were on hand to divert vehicular traffic and keep order. The stadium itself was packed, as the molasses-like crowd moved in and then out of the venue. Fire trap if I ever saw one. Swag? I got a concert program, of course, but decided to hold off on the T-shirts: $25 for Obama tees, $50+ for Madonna. Silly.

I had been wondering why this concert was on a Thursday night. The answer was soon apparent: Friday was Halloween, and Vancouver’s West Enders take Halloween Very Seriously. We saw people in costume all day, there were parties till the wee hours, and yet again the police were closing off streets and keeping a watchful eye.

The show included everything from riding crops to disco-ball-style crosses, from parkour to roller skates. She mixed some old favorites with new hits, and threw some social messages into the mix: celebration of gay love, impatience with demagogues, a call for help with the AIDS crisis in Africa. Our seats were great: up in the first balcony, we had a commanding view of the entire stage, but could see quite a lot of detail thanks to the powerful birding binoculars we made sure to bring. There are few things as frustrating as not being able to make out the performer’s face in your line of sight and having to rely on the Jumbotrons…

Madonna is as energetic as ever, though the most extreme stunts were carried out by her oh-so-fit backup dancers. Knox and I decided that would be a perfectly suitable second career choice for us, but perhaps we have further to go than we like to admit. You see, there was nary a teenager in sight. The audience were all people who had grown up with Madge, folks ranging from their late twenties into (gulp!) middle age. Though we may not all have three nannies, an assistant, and a driver and a jet, we did our best to keep up with the dancing dervish.

Disappointed as we were that the Garden was not playing warm-up Madonna music as we waited for the show to begin, all was made right when we left and walked along Canal Street: all the bars had her hits blaring to lure in the concert-goers. “What the hell!” we said, and went in to one. As Knox downed a beer, I danced and vogued and boogied-woogied to end my fabulous Madonna evening. She, I’m sure, was well on her way back to New York by then.

UPDATE: This is the second Madonna concert I’ve attended; the first was the Reinvention Tour. Rebecca Traister at Salon does a good job of describing what it feels like to see Madge in concert for the first time as an adult.

Knox was sweet enough to get me the new Madonna CD last night. So far, Confessions on a Dance Floor strikes me as, well, disappointing. The first track, “Hung Up”, is catchy and danceable. But the other tracks? They’re just not getting me.

It pains me to admit this, since I am a big Madonna fan and have been since I first heard “Like a prayer.” I’ve consistently liked her albums, even if some songs here and there took a while to become familiar and likable.

Maybe this album will grow on me, too.

I finally went to see a Madonna concert!

I’ve never really cared to keep up much with popular music, but I do remember the summer of ’89, when Like a Prayer was playing on the radio. I loved it! As I learned more about this provocative singer who irritated the straitlaced, I liked what I saw and what I heard. “One day,” I promised myself, “I will see her in concert.”

I tried to get tickets to the Drowned World Tour in 2001, but I couldn’t get through to TicketMaster on the phone nor on the web. And boy, did I try.

This year, though, when I heard she was touring again, I was able to snag tickets. My first rock concert, ever! (Yes, I’ve had a sheltered life.)

I have to say, it was fun. I’d never been inside Madison Square Garden before, and Madonna did put on a wonderful show, with a bunch of her old and new hits and dazzling visuals that borrowed heavily from her recent Kabbalistic inclinations. I was in the middle of the floor section, which would normally mean a good seat, but I thought I was too far away to really see her clearly. I just saw a body dancing on the stage most of the time. What was nice was that at two points during the show a platform descended from the ceiling and hooked onto the stage, extending partway into the floor seating section, just over the audience’s heads. During those two numbers, she was pretty close to me. That was exciting, I will admit.