Madonna
Toyota Center
March 28, 2024

Some Christians refer to Easter as a celebration, but the more appropriate nomenclature might be “observance” or maybe “commemoration.” After all, a lot of heavy stuff happened before the celebratory part, in the Christian tradition. Madonna’s current tour is dubbed the Celebration Tour but, like this weekend’s holiday, her show last night at Toyota Center felt less festive than ceremonial.

This is not to say she, a gaggle of enthusiastic fellow performers and her acolytes, who nearly filled the arena to capacity, weren’t having fun. There were moments of true joy, especially during the show’s closing run of songs, when we were rewarded for enduring the rough parts of the story with Peeps and the chocolate bunny with those hard, sugary eyeballs. Love those! But, the program was also a reflective, moody, sometimes baffling, chaotic, fun and ultimately triumphant history of one of the last half-century’s most notable cultural icons. Over two-and-one-half hours, hits from Madonna’s catalog were expertly presented as a chronology of her career from its early days in New York City, but also grouped as needed to showcase her diverse notions on art during those 40 years. Call it the gospel according to Madonna.

Let’s just get this part out of the way, since many have already asked: did she start her show on time? She’s Madonna, so she’s nonplussed by the litigious nature of the residents of Harris County (or any other county) or its 20,000 lawyers. Sure, someone somewhere else filed a civil action against Madge for not starting “on time.” As her faithful fans at Toyota would attest, when Madonna starts the show, it’s right on time. (Though, to be clear, she didn’t hit the stage until 10 after 10 p.m., about 90 minutes from the advertised start).

The opener was not an early hit from her eponymous 1983 debut album, but was “Nothing Really Matters” - you know, like the concept of time. Okay, it probably wasn’t a poke in the eye of those watching the clock, but it was a good kickoff selection. By the time she appeared to sing its set-the-stage lines, “Everything I give you all comes back to me” to an adoring, giving-it-back crowd, the moment was built to a frenzy by a five-minute intro from more than a dozen dancers and Bob the Drag Queen going high priestess to deliver Madonna to the stage.


“Everybody” and “Into the Groove” came next and allowed her to speak to the crowd for a first time about that way back era of the 1980s. She said she sometimes loved the dance styles of those days and “sometimes I’m embarrassed by it.”

“I am going to tell you the story of my life,” she told the crowd and then asked, “Are you ready for it?” And the crowd roared, of course. “This show is like me opening up my journal and reading you stories you have never heard before.

“It’s really important that we never forget where we come from,” she said. “The early days of struggle and starving and being broke and having people shit on you, stab you, rob you, rape you – yes, that’s true, all those things are true. I’m reading from my journal.”

Journal or bible? These borderline blasphemous ideas about Madonna’s show were spurred by Madonna, of course, with all the religious imagery one would expect and her pronouncement that she's been excommunicated from the Catholic church three times. The night’s best gospel entries, the ones which rang truest, were the ones where Madonna was front and center.

For instance, 1986’s “Live to Tell” was a nearly perfect moment of the show, with her delivering the song splendidly while video curtains fell over the crowd revealing some famous AIDS victims like Arthur Ashe and Keith Haring, and then hundreds of nameless brothers and sisters who presumably also have left us. It was a rough part of the story, before the bonnets and baskets, but a real part of Madonna’s story and reflective of her alignment with the LGBTQ community over the years. Later, there were nods to Prince and Michael Jackson in the show, and those moments too felt impactful. Looking at old photos of her and them on the video screens, her journal entry read, “survivor,” the last one standing in this vaunted pop trinity. Melancholia set in a little, despite “Billie Jean” and “Like a Virgin” playing and inviting us to dance.


The run bunching “Like a Prayer,” “Erotica,” “Justify My Love” and “Hung Up” together took the evening’s theatrics to a level that possibly didn’t benefit the show. These songs featured lots of dancers who were amazing and giving us so much to see as to nearly do the impossible and obscure Madonna. One show companion messaged from their seat in the upper deck, “The elaborate stage and passioned dancers outshine their mother.” When she rambled to the crowd for an extended period of time again later in the set, that companion texted, “Whose drunk tia is this?”

There were all sorts of faux trysts occurring onstage all night, polyamorous adventures of he, she, they, them and Madonna, from a menage a trois in “Open Your Heart” to our heroine enjoying a bit of simulated cunnilingus during “Vogue.” (I don’t remember that in the iconic video). Enticing as hard chiseled bodies and bare breasted dancers engaging in a musical orgy might be, after awhile it just felt tiresome. “I feel like I’m watching someone masturbate to a video of themselves masturbating,” my friend in the not-so-cheap nosebleed seats memoed.

Because she’s Madonna, she closed on a stunning run. Thorny crowns and stumbling through the streets behind her, (I know, I need to go to confession this weekend), she resurrected the vibe with an acoustic version of “Express Yourself,” of all things, a rendition which allowed us to consider the message of the song instead of just dancing it off. We got to do that during “Ray of Light,” a banger that turned the Toyota Center into “the clurb.”

We were on such a high during that one that its successor, “Take a Bow,” might have felt out of place, except that she shone on the song and reminded us all of her staying power, the moves she’s made with music that moved her into our hearts, the power of performance that assures us all that no matter what’s thrown at her, Madonna will rise again. For the closer, she dressed her troupe of dancers up in her love, all wearing costumes to mimic different eras of her career. By then, we didn’t need a reminder, but she gave us one to recall in remembrance of her: “Bitch I’m Madonna.”


Personal Bias: The last time I saw Madonna live was 1987. My wife (then girlfriend), brother and his wife (then girlfriend) caught the Who’s That Girl tour at the Astrodome. Our seats were in the mezzanine section of the ancient relic. We never sat in the orange seats, we just danced all night to hit after hit. Last night, Mrs. Sendejas and I were able to revisit those days a bit, especially during the front third of the set. How much Madonna sang or didn’t sing didn’t matter to us, since we were singing to the ones we loved.

These songs aren’t just Madonna’s journal entries, they’re ours too. “Crazy for You,” reminded us of my wife’s senior year at a local Catholic high school. “Vogue” brought back flashes from our young, hip days at dance clubs like Fast and Cool and Windsor Plaza’s haunts. There were lots of other examples. I was lucky to be there with her again, listening to the songs that told the story of Madonna’s life and ours, too.

Random Notebook Dump: A couple of quick shoutouts – good luck Marcus and Cherry, two friendly patrons of the Dirt Bar, where we situated pre-show. You’ve both got this! Best wishes on your upcoming endeavors! And many, many thanks to one particular person, who I’ll not name, who moved some mountains for Mrs. Sendejas and I to attend the show. Thank you so much again for all you do.


Madonna Set List:

Nothing Really Matters
Everybody
Into the Groove
Burning Up
Open Your Heart
Holiday
Live to Tell
Like a Prayer
Erotica
Justify My Love
Hung Up
Bad Girl
Vogue
Human Nature
Crazy for You
Die Another Day
Don’t Tell Me
Mother and Father
Express Yourself
La Isla Bonita
Don’t Cry for Me Argentina
Bedtime Story
Ray of Light
Take a Bow
Bitch I’m Madonna
Celebration