doesn’t want it. Fifty years later, Madonna finally arrives at the same acquiescence. Just as the rest of the culture is finally waking up to the diminishing returns of IP and franchise dependency, the Queen of Pop goes and releases the first sequel in her nearly five-decade career.
By some miracle, Confessions II isn’t a self-congratulatory victory lap. It’s the most galvanizing, out-of-breath statement she’s made since 2005’s Confessions on a Dance Floor. And if it isn’t the most personal album of her career, it may be her most self-reflective. Certainly, it’s her most focused, cohesive effort in decades, an album that earns its nostalgia by prioritizing it.
Most of that is on Madonna. The rest is on producer Stuart Price. The continuous mix he stitches together here—climaxing in the wrung-out, after-hours comedown of the album’s final four tracks—has the same reset-and-rebirth drive of 1998’s Ray of Light, except gentler; this might be the most comforting night-lit listen in the singer’s entire discography.
Full review at Slant Magazine