Madonna (22 page)

Nothing mattered more to Basquiat than the next canvas – or the next line of coke. He and Torton would mock Madonna as she talked, endlessly, about her career, for the artist had known instinctively that success was his for the taking, not the making. As a result, it baffled him that when they went to clubs, the three of them crammed into his black 1950 Plymouth convertible, Basquiat simply wanted to hang out, while Madonna would work the room, ceaselessly talking up her single. ‘It was in a way a lot easier for Basquiat than Madonna,’ Torton observes, perceptively. ‘He was a uniquely talented artist, she constantly had to work at making it. His genius assured him of success, she was uncertain of her talent.’ Indeed, it can be said that Madonna is accessible as an artist precisely because her status is deemed to be as much a product of hard work, grit and determination as of any latent ability. She epitomizes the American dream, the idea that anybody can be somebody, an idea deeply rooted in the hearts of those descended from immigrants to the United States, whose forebears had so often been driven by the same dream. She might have been any ordinary Midwestern girl-next-door, and yet she is one in a billion, through her own efforts to fulfill her potential – from high-school cheerleader to international superstar. Conversely, Basquiat’s genius set him apart, an exotic bird even amid the colorful plumage of so many of his contemporaries.

The lovers were, however, united by a quality often overlooked in assessments of Madonna’s career – artistic courage. Neither was afraid to take artistic risks, neither was afraid to fail. Both had the nerve, metaphorically speaking, to expose themselves in public. There was, too, a very human, rather vulnerable innocence about their relationship that has been lost in the caricature of Madonna as a sexual grotesque. (Surprisingly, in view of her sexually voracious image, the word ‘innocent’ is used of her by several of her former lovers.) For much of the time they behaved like excited children, giggling in bed, tickling each other, telling each other stories; or listening to Torton as he sat on the edge of the bed and spun one of his yarns in rapid-fire sentences, like a tobacco auctioneer on speed. One afternoon, for example, Madonna came round to Basquiat’s apartment just for a kiss – and to try to get his day going. Torton’s photographs of the couple, taken in that apartment, capture something of the guilelessness of the relationship.

Ultimately, the relationship foundered on the elemental divide between them: his dark moods and paranoia, as against her essentially positive, life-affirming spirit. ‘How can you stand him? He’s so depressing,’ she moaned to Torton after returning from Los Angeles, where she and Basquiat had spent New Year at the beach house of art dealer Larry Gagosian. ‘He never wakes up until the sun goes down and he didn’t even see the sea all the time we were there,’ she complained. Yet even after they split, she remained on good terms with him, as she did with other boyfriends, helping him when, inspired by Madonna’s success, he decided that he too would make a record. If she could do it, so could he – as a seventeen-year-old, he had played in a local punk-rock band – and proved it by recording a rap song called ‘Beat Bop,’ which featured New York hip-hop artist Rammell Zee.

Just as she maintained her friendship with Basquiat when their relationship ended, so there was a reasonably amicable parting from Mark Kamins. While their love affair had been over for some time – he was then seeing the woman he would marry – they still had a working relationship. With the success of ‘Everybody,’ record companies were clamoring to sign her, and because Sire Records had only placed her under contract for a singles deal there was a danger she could go elsewhere. It was then that Madonna was whisked to Seymour Stein’s hospital bedside, where he was recovering from heart surgery; the canny music executive was ‘freaked’ by the realization that she might be snatched from under his nose. Resplendent in dressing gown and jockey shorts, and with an IV tube still in his arm, the man responsible for signing The Pretenders and Talking Heads now exchanged contracts with Madonna. The $5,000 advance she secured on her new deal, this time for a single and an album, enabled her to buy a Roland synthesizer that would allow her to compose in the new apartment she was now renting in Broome Street, in fashionable SoHo.

By now it seemed that everyone was eager to capitalize on the success of her first hit. Not unreasonably, Mark Kamins expected to be asked to produce her second single, ‘Burning Up,’ which was recorded in early 1983. Like Steve Bray before him, however, Kamins was turned down; Michael Rosenblatt explaining that they wanted a producer who had more experience in directing singers. A Warner Brothers producer, Reggie Lucas, who currently had a number-one hit with singer Stephanie Mills, was brought in as producer, and penned the ‘B’ side, ‘Physical Attraction.’ As far as Kamins was concerned there were no hard feelings. He was working with other artists, his deal with Sire and Warner gave him a percentage point on everything Madonna released for the foreseeable future, and he was inundated with remix production work. ‘I was a happy boy,’ he recalls. ‘My career was taking off at the same time as Madonna’s.’

Those of her New York friends whom she had involved in the production of these early records and their attendant videos were equally happy. Indeed, her efforts to help her ‘crew’ seem at odds with the long-accepted image of a young woman who stepped on everyone to reach the top. She asked Martin Burgoyne to design the cover for the 12-inch dance single of ‘Burning Up,’ while Debi Mazar was hired as makeup artist for the music video Sire commissioned to promote the second single. Maripol, who had first introduced the singer to her trademark fashion-item rubber bracelets, was the stylist, and Madonna’s occasional lover Ken Compton appeared on screen. The video, directed by Steve Baron, was America’s first introduction to Madonna’s sexual politics and became a minor hit on MTV, which by then had begun to show dance-music videos. In one scene Madonna seems about to be hit by a car driven by a handsome young man, played by Compton. By the end of the song, she is driving the car and has ditched the young man. The message, which would be repeated throughout her musical career, was that she was the one in charge.

When her second record was released in March 1983 Madonna was indeed in command, almost immediately setting out on tour with the other members of her crew, dancers Erika Belle and Bags Rilez, to promote the single. Like dozens of other new dance groups, Madonna and her company performed ‘track’ dates at numerous clubs, Madonna singing to a background recording while the three of them went through their three-song routine. Then they would travel on to the next venue and repeat the twenty-minute performance.

This was the grueling, unglamorous side of show business. At one club in Fort Lauderdale, Florida they came on after a dancing pantomime horse, while at another gig, at the Copa in Key West, off the south-western tip of Florida, they performed before a handful of bored youngsters after driving all day through torrential rain to reach the club. Even so, before they went on Madonna insisted on rehearsing their routine in the single hotel bedroom they shared. ‘It was funny watching them dance between the beds,’ Sire’s record promoter Bobby Shaw, who accompanied them on the trip remembers. ‘She was a perfectionist and I admire that.’

What was both more glamorous and more fun was when they took the show to the clubs in New York. They got to ride in the limo the record company provided, playing with the multi-colored lights, fiddling with the switches, cranking up the music, and inviting friends and virtually anyone else nearby to join them as they cruised round the streets of New York after finishing their shows for the night. For a girl who had usually rattled round New York on an old bicycle, the luxurious car was a real treat. ‘It was playful, it was a blast,’ recalls Erika Belle, who denies the myth that they cruised round in order to pick up teenage Puerto Rican boys, and would have sex with them in the back of the car. ‘There was lots of flirting, lots of fun and that’s all as far as I’m concerned,’ she continues. ‘Sure those were the days when girls were having sex on the dance floor of the Pyramid, but Madonna never wanted to be known for that. She was always self-aware, in control. That story just doesn’t fit with the person she was and is.’

When they were out of town, Madonna would go out to interviews with radio stations or local newspapers after the show while the others were relaxing. Driven, professional and energetic, during her time on the road she also proved that she was a young woman with a strong will and attitude to match. After they had gone through their three-song set in a club, the manager would often plead with them for an encore. She always refused, preferring to leave the crowds begging for more. On one occasion they performed in a club at Sag Harbor on Long Island. The mainly preppy crowd was rowdy and unresponsive, something most singers experience at one time or another, simply gritting their teeth and carrying on with as good a grace as they can muster. Not so Madonna. Halfway through their act, she suddenly stopped singing, shouted ‘Fuck you!’ at the audience, and walked offstage. Erika and Bags followed, ending the performance. While her gesture infuriated the management, it impressed at least one member of the audience that night, Frances Grill, the chief executive of the Click Model Agency. Used to spotting talent in unlikely circumstances or situations; she immediately recognized that she was watching a performer with genuine star quality.

The embryonic diva was beginning to understand that for herself. One night as she, Bags and Erika were returning from a gig in Brooklyn, Madonna stretched out in the limo and looked over at the Manhattan skyline, glowing in the setting sun. ‘I’m going to own this town,’ she said, matter-of-factly.

That burning ambition brought its own limitations, of course, not the least of them the fact that she only had one way of operating – her way. In the studio she was constantly at loggerheads with producer Reggie Lucas, as they tried to put together her first album to capitalize on the success of ‘Burning Up,’ which went to number three in the dance charts. ‘On one occasion they couldn’t agree so they turned to me and asked, “What do you think?”’ recalls the keyboard player Fred Zarr, who had once again been brought in to provide backup. She didn’t have much material to play – nor did she have much time. Halfway through the recording she and her little troupe, together with Mark Kamins, flew to London to promote the single. She appeared at Heaven, a fashionable gay club, as well as Camden Palace and the Beatroot Club, and traveled north to play the Hacienda Club in Manchester. While they enjoyed meeting The Smiths, The Fall and Jools Holland, their act failed miserably with audiences. ‘It was a disaster,’ Kamins remembers. ‘People just didn’t get it. I was shocked.’

Back in New York, a different kind of disaster was looming. Madonna had planned to use her unreleased song from the first unreleased single, ‘Ain’t No Big Deal,’ to launch the album. Crucially, Steve Bray had sold it to another label, which meant that she had to find another song quickly. At the same time, she was concerned that Reggie Lucas had over-produced other songs on the album, changing them from the rather sparse form of the demos, which she had preferred. A rapid first-aid job was needed.

By chance, her new boyfriend, Jellybean Benitez, had a demo of the song ‘Holiday,’ written by Curtis Hudson and Lisa Stevens of the group Pure Energy. He had already offered it to Supremes star Mary Wilson and singer Phyllis Hyman but they had turned it down. Madonna, anxiously looking for a song, was more than happy to accept when he offered ‘Holiday’ to her. She quickly laid down the vocals and Benitez, despite the fact that he had never produced a song before, set to work on the sound, laboring night and day in the studio to knock it into shape before the April 1983 deadline. He then set about reworking several of the tracks recorded earlier under Lucas’s direction in the style that Madonna preferred. Just before ‘Holiday’ was completed, she and Benitez took the tape over to Fred Zarr’s apartment in Brooklyn to see if he could add any of what Madonna called ‘Zarrisms,’ creative flourishes that would provide the finishing touches. Zarr tinkered around on the keyboard in his front room and came up with the distinctive piano solo that gave the song its final polish.

Although Madonna has since admitted that the songs on her debut album, released in July 1983, were ‘pretty weak,’ and that her inexperience led her to dwell too long in the disco mold, the album was an astonishing success, selling nine million copies worldwide. The second single from one of the album’s tracks, ‘Lucky Star,’ gave Madonna the first of her fifteen American top-five hits, more than either The Beatles or Elvis Presley, while the first, ‘Holiday,’ in truth little more than a scissors-and-paste recording, was to dominate the charts from Thanksgiving through Christmas that year. Indeed the album’s incredible success took everyone by surprise – including Warner executives, who had to hold back the release of her second album,
Like A Virgin,
for months, until the demand for her debut album,
Madonna,
had tailed off.

That first album made Madonna a household name. Yet when it was released in November 1983, she did not have a manager, an accountant, or a lawyer, nor even a bank account. Now, however, with a little help from her boyfriend, Jellybean Benitez, she set about building around herself what was to become the most formidable professional team in the business. Benitez, a shrewd businessman as well as a respected and highly successful DJ, introduced her to music accountant and business-affairs advisor Bert Padell, a colorful New York character who writes poetry and was once a batboy to the great Joe DiMaggio. For the next fifteen years his firm, which has handled countless pop legends from The Beatles to Britney Spears, managed her business affairs with supreme competence.

Just as importantly, she was in dire need of a music manager. Mixing romance, former or current, with career, she had already signed short-term deals with both Mark Kamins and Jellybean Benitez, deals that would in the end prove to be expensive as her success continued. Seymour Stein, who had by now recovered from his heart operation, suggested that she fly to Hollywood to meet one of the world’s leading managers, Freddy DeMann of Weisner-DeMann Entertainment, who had just parted with Michael Jackson. Raising its head yet again in Madonna’s story, romantic legend has it that she auditioned in his office and that he was so bowled over that he later told the media that ‘she has that special magic few stars have.’ Others remember it differently, however, recalling how after that first meeting DeMann wondered aloud who on earth this girl, in her rags and tatters, thought she was. Certainly their partnership had rather more to do with the business relationship DeMann and Stein enjoyed than with any input from Madonna. As they signed a deal cementing a relationship that would last for fifteen years, Stein couldn’t resist joking: ‘What are you going to call yourselves: “DeMann and DeWoman?”’