THE BEST MUSIC REVIEW I'VE EVER READ

And it's not just because I've been disenchanted with Madonna since I decided in the early 1990s that an average copy of Swank magazine is way better than her high falutin' work of "erotica," the coffee table book, Sex. This is in the tradition of George Bernard Shaw. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but it's quite a fun read:

We've been here before, of course: Music was the worst single release by an established singer since Paul McCartney's Mary Had A Little Lamb, and as Bond themes go, Die Another Day made Lulu sound like Satchmo. Yet the intellectual investment by the Popbitching classes in Madonna the Icon is such that to state the obvious, that Madonna the Singer is grade-A garbage, would bring tumbling down the whole house of cards that is modern pop theory.

With the crap single come the "exclusive" interviews awarded to selected media monkeys with a track record of genuflection beyond the call of duty. Yet no matter how soft the ride Mrs Ritchie is given, she inevitably ends up saying something gloriously stupid and self-deceiving, such is the level of professional flattery that has cocooned her for 20 years. After the atrocity that was The Next Best Thing, she famously rated herself a 10 as wife, lover, singer and - gulp - actress; a score with which I'd have no quarrel if it were out of 100, rather than 10.

And

She is, in fact, a novelty act who happened to have the shrewdest marketing moves; it's as if the Smurfs had been masterminded by Machiavelli.

Click here for scathing attack at Madonna.

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