Her choice of support act on this homecoming gig - since New York is the place she remade herself - is very Madonna, all wrong on paper but in practice, right on the money. Amy Schumer takes the stage in front of a massive backdrop of Madonna’s face staring at the heavens and clutching a sword to her breast, the massive machinery of pop music concealed behind it. Swigging from a bottle of champagne, and with nothing but a microphone and a stool, the comic of the moment says that she was asked: 'Who better than you to open up for Madonna?' 'Uh,' she rhetorically answers. 'Any band?'
Yet Schumer’s perfect reading of the audience, in which straight men are such a minority as to be non-existent, ('It’s like taking a warm bath in a ton of dick that doesn’t want you') weapons-grade filth ('We’re here to rethink cum') and description of the Kardashians as a family who 'take the faces they were born with as a light suggestion' reduce the crowd to marshmallow before Madonna has even made an appearance.
Twenty-five years from her apotheosis, 1990’s Blond Ambition tour, Madonna’s vision of the pop concert - in which music is combined with dance, video and costume, in order to reconceptualise familiar hits into an overwhelming sensory bombardment - has now been copied by generations of pop stars.
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