Word: madonna
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...Madonna strode onstage, and 15,000 fans went bats. "It feels great to be in a house full of people who care," she told the Madison Square Garden crowd. "AIDS is a strange and powerful disease. But we're more powerful." Then Madonna, who lost her "best friend," Painter Martin Burgoyne, 24, to AIDS, rocked the Garden with old songs given pertinent twists. As she sang Papa Don't Preach, the screens flashed Ronald Reagan's image; at song's end, they bore the message SAFE SEX. Everyone got the message from the concert, which raised...
Hope, pugnacity, desperation. And the entertainer's belief that, against fatal odds, the show must go on. These may be the only emotional weapons an artist can marshal against a disease that has sapped America's artistic community. Star-studded evenings like the Madonna concert and the Ludlam memorial have become depressingly frequent occasions for New York's beau monde. In October, 13 prominent dance companies will appear in Dancing for Life, which should raise $1.5 million for four AIDS groups. In November, Leonard Bernstein, Luciano Pavarotti, Leontyne Price and other luminaries will stage a Carnegie Hall concert to cadge...
...only five feet away now. Eric, who is 6'3", is blocking for me as we ram our way through the crowd of people. I think I've found a clean cup, but in this light you can't be sure. The music sounds like Madonna, but all I can hear is two people discussing investment banking jobs in New York...
...neither you nor your roommate may be able to give the best interpretation of your earlier agreement. But neither the difficulty of textual criticism nor that of resolving exactly what you meant four weeks ago needs prevent your attempt to do just that. when your roommate says,"you think Madonna is disturbing--I can't work without her," you can respond by pointing out the noise level and the possibility that a Walkman might solve both your problems...
...come along for the ride, physically or emotionally. After opening moments of real wonder, the dramatic tension depends increasingly on what tricks the set can do next: opening the floor to send up a concealed bedroom or judging stand; filling the midnight sky with stars that sketch a celestial madonna in a surge of unexamined theological kitsch. Against this whizbangery, the actors make scant impression, although Robert Torti is an oily villain and Greg Mowry a winsome underdog. Andrew Lloyd Webber's pastiche of American pop offers histrionic passages but no memorable tunes. Worse, the races -- the core...