No retail shopping for me on Record Store Day, just cheapo chazzing. In fact, I already had Immaculate Collection on CD*, but couldn’t resist this early singles double Lp helping of the pop martinet whose musical and visual image mongering takes David Bowie’s similar chameleonality to absurdly cynical lengths and whose glamorisation (leading ultimately, and ironically, to normalisation) of sexual fetishism has virtually defined all solo female pop singing subsequent.
The liner notes offer a remarkable balance of slavering and intellectual pretension. Oh, Madonna, you so bad!
More Herb Ritts action on the inner sleeves.
*I will likely Music Magpie the compact disc version.