Madonna's Sugar Shack

When Madonna rocks a crotch shot in leather Depends (cameltoe prudently airbrushed away) for the cover of her 11th studio album, Hard Candy, you have to pause for a second and wonder if she's in on the joke. Not that she's too old to pull it off (apparently, she does), but it's extremely garish and slapdash as album covers go. As for her new CD, Madonna drops the tedious finger wagging about the pitfalls of fame and materialism, forgoes the hokey spirituality that marred some of her past efforts and finally delivers an album as close to her 80's hey day than ever before. Hard Candy is an uptempo successor that manages to rival, if not one-up her previous effort, Confessions on a Dancefloor.

Updating her sound to today's mainstream radio format, Madonna enlists the help of titan producers Pharrell Williams from the Neptunes, Timbaland, and Nate "Danja" Hills. Even saddled with these powerhouse talents - with the exception of "4 Minutes", which sounds decidedly anonymous and more like Timbaland's baby - Madonna makes sure her stamp is all over the proceedings. As such, "Hard Candy" feels like an urban dance CD that seamlessly melds 80's pop, disco, hip-hop and R&B. It's not without its flops, but it's a solid effort nonetheless.

Like the consummate professional and stylistic chameleon she's known to be, she nails every vocal register and streetwise delivery. Madonna opens things up for business with "Candy Shop". Forget the double entendres and confectionary metaphors; it's the arrangement that knocks you off guard. Over a stuttering synth progression and deft percussion, she utters in her best autotuned voice, "stick-sticky and sweet", counterbalancing with a loud whisper, "my sugar is raw". Her collaborative duet with Justin Timberlake on "4 Minutes" is too dissonant for my ears, but apparently the suits at Warner Brothers felt it would serve as a good introduction to the rest of the album (the song was a top 5 US and worldwide hit).

Elsewhere, however, Candy is filled with frothy pop hooks washed down with an R&B/Hip Hop aftertaste. Best of all, Madonna rehashes the conventional themes we really want to hear in a good pop song: love, lost love, and shakin' your booty on the dance floor like your life depended on it (the sublime "Beat Goes On", "Dance 2Night", "Give it 2 Me", "Heartbeat"). Even in less cheerful subject matter, she doesn't let you forget the beat. "She's Not Me" finds Madonna scolding an ex for taking up with a woman who's stolen her identity. That's the literal interpretation, but it also works as a swipe at today's more popular female artists who have benefited from Madonna's example, reminding her fans that she's pure cane sugar, everyone else is just Splenda. Whatever the case, the track wouldn't be half as successful if it didn't feature crisp bells dancing over a python bass line, clickity-clack guitar work and 70's era disco whistles.

Madonna pulls off a coup with Hard Candy. The music melds lush, urban grooves with an 80's vibe that she never bothered to fully explore in her own time; yet she manages to authenticate every note, hook, phrasing and keyboard gurgle. Madonna's aware that she's co-opting an "of the moment" sound and presents it accordingly - as if she casually tossed everything together with her collaborators. Moreover it's this disposable, almost effortless quality that makes me love this CD despite its obvious shelf life. Consider the packaging, the tawdry cover art and the trivial theme of candy suckers, Turkish Delights and all things sweet and ephemeral: Hard Candy will give you the pop sugar rush you crave, but don't go crying to Madonna when the inevitable crash comes - she'll be too busy sucking her lolly all the way to the bank.