"Hung Up"

Madonna

That Madonna’s latest video is such a blatant plea for urban legitimacy is all the more baffling given the fact that her upcoming album “Confessions on a Dancefloor” is being publicized as a Euro-techno romp and the song itself bears as little relation to hip-hop as the average 50 Cent track does to, well, Madonna.

The video starts with Madonna peeling herself out of a tracksuit in an empty dance studio, stretching her old-enough-to-have-weaned-me-but-still-an-undeniable-sex-symbol body in a spandex outfit handed down from her “Holiday” days.

Meanwhile, authenticity-oozing and utterly non-threatening minorities bust off walls and crump-dance on street corners, all the while bobbing their heads to the hypnotic “Hung Up” melodies emanating from a massive ’80s boom box (far more “Say Anything” than “Do the Right Thing”).

Once these two worlds have been established, viewers would have to be blissfully unaware of the tropes unfailingly followed by popular sitcoms and mediocre music videos in order to be surprised by the video’s conclusion.

She appears at a trendy “underground” club, populated by more trans-ethnic style mavens, including dancers from David LaChapelle’s recent documentary “Rize,” the most probable seed for this video’s cash-in concept.

LaChapelle was Madonna’s director of choice until they clashed over “creative differences” on this video, directed instead by Johan Renck.

Madonna culminates her utterly cliched “walk on the wild side” fantasy in a Matrix-slow grind session with an appropriately feisty fetishized Latino.

The crowd proves to be more Urban Outfitters than urban proletariat. After some well-manicured posturing, they all join her for an inexplicable group Dance Dance Revolution session, accompanied by synchronized neo-disco handtwirls from the whole crowd (the lone segment where dance style and music sync up coherently).

Granted, in terms of pop-culture zen, moments like these are worth a few guffaws.

But the video’s deepest flaw is its utter lack of plausibility; in the real world, everyone else depicted in the video would probably rather be caught dead than on camera dancing to her ABBA-sampling pop single, no matter its catchiness.

In the last shot, Madonna appears again in her spandex dance costume, begging the interpretation that the events depicted in the rest of the video were, in the words of genuine hip-hop icon Biggie Smalls, “all a dream.”

The only difference is that Madonna never read Word Up! magazine, and was already a multiplatinum artist when Marley Marl’s generation of rappers were busy creating a culture for her to exploit.

—Will B. Payne


"How Can I Love You If You Won’t Lie Down?"

The Silver Jews

I’m not sure who directed the new Silver Jews video, but I’m going to guess it wasn’t Hype Williams: the production values fall short of public access cable standards, and there’s nary a rimmed up Bentley or glistening bikini to be found.

It isn’t even a music video per se, but more of an off-kilter home video in which David Berman, his wife Cassie, and couple of their buddies goof about while intermittently lip-syncing the lyrics to the band’s single.

What the video lacks in professionalism, it more than compensates for in down-home charm: Mrs. Berman puts on like a young June Carter Cash (down to her signature sun dress and teased tresses), a couple of unkempt friends play catch with the Bermans’ dog, and Dave hams it up with a wind-up Halloween prop.

It’s nice to see Dave taking himself so lightly—he recorded “How Can I Love You” in the months following a stint in rehab and a suicide attempt. Things do take darker turn near the video’s end, however: Dave beats one of his hippie companions with a chain link, and then turns it on himself in a disquieting act of self-flagellation.

Happily, the spirit of bonhomie is restored when Cassie steps out and dances a little jig for the fellas. It’s good to see that the love of a good woman stands between Dave and existential despair.

The video’s ramshackle aesthetic is the perfect compliment to the Silver Jews’ sound: “How Can I Love You” is, at heart, just old-fashioned honky-tonk music, and too much visual fuss would have muddied its simple pleasures.

Look out for the menorah-topped Wurlitzer in the opening seconds; there’s no better symbol of the Silver Jews ethos than this whimsical union of Judaic iconography and vintage Americana.

—Bernard L. Parham


"Stay Fly"

Three 6 Mafia

God bless Three 6 Mafia. As one of Tennessee’s most important hip-hop groups, they’ve lived at the pseudo-Satanic edges of mainstream hip-hop for over a decade, but have staunchly refused to change their style to sell records. Eight years ago, I remember when my cousin showed me “Mystic Stylez,” their first full album that actually sold outside of Memphis, and being scared out of my mind.

It wasn’t until watching the video for “Stay Fly,” the single from their newest album “Most Known Unknown,” that my fears about them coming into my room at night and flashing their scary gold teeth at me were allayed. Apparently, they just want to “stay fly-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y…”

This is a party video, for a party song. Juicy J’s verse at the beginning is probably the reason for the song’s success, and in the video, he sticks to what he is best at; wearing scary green skeleton t-shirts, flashing his vampire teeth, and scaring helpless old people, all while spouting off nonsense like: “Ghetto pimp tight, girl, say I’m the man.” I’m not a girl, and I’m not sure what it means to be ghetto pimp tight, but Juicy, you’re the man regardless.

DJ Paul, the mastermind behind the malevolently funky Three 6 Mafia sound, follows with a tight verse. Crunchy Black is appropriately smoked-out for the song’s party vibe.

G-Unit’s Young Buck acts like the guy at the party who tries to be a little bit tougher than everybody else, unaware that Three 6 Mafia are the toughest of them all. After all, their only other mainstream hit was “Tear Da Club Up”, a pre-Lil’ Jon-era stomp that out-crunked all of crunk up till that point.

Perhaps the best part of the video is when the fittingly-named Eightball (dude is huge) and nappy-dreaded MJG, two fellow Tennessean pioneers come on and stay fly-y-y-y-y-… sorry.

The rapping is great, too, as they shake, growl, and air-drink their way to the end of the song. This track is probably the biggest hit to date for the still-fly Mafia and the video comes off as the crazy after-party.

—J. Samuel Abbot