Madonna
Hard Candy
Warner Brothers Records

Hard Candy, billed as a sugary sweet rebuke of the introspective, Kabbalah-pondering, “we are the world” opining of her recent work, is supposed to be Madonna’s least “political” record in ages. It’s a return, we’re told, to the dance floor and bedroom; the pantheons where classic Madonna pop has its infectious roots.

Musically, that’s true.

But the personal is always political, and this watershed album – Madonna’s last entry for Warner Bros. Records and the final disc she’ll release before her 50th birthday – is revelatory on the tactics women are forced to employ to remain “viable” with age. Hell, it’s no wonder that Madonna’s gone on record as a Hillary Clinton supporter. She must sense a kindred spirit in the Democratic nominee and the similar criticisms they receive: despite being established in their fields, pioneering for their sex, demonstrating incredible staying power and being able to hold their own – in the charts and the polls – in industries dominated by men a fraction of their age, have you ever seen two women more implored by the media to pack it in, call it quits, and roll themselves quietly over the hill into the Shady Pines Nursing Home for Old Birds? Internationally, Madonna’s last album (2005’s Confessions on a Dance Floor) was one of her biggest hits in ages; but aside from the begrudgingly played first single “Hung Up,” the songs still couldn’t get arrested on American radio.

Being a maverick original means nothing in an age where the media can create the new political icon as readily as it does the next American Idol. So what’s a woman of a certain age to do? Tap in to the urban constituency, of course.

For Hard Candy, Madonna has famously paired herself with producers Timbaland, Justin Timberlake and Pharrell Williams to replace her Euro-disco leanings with R&B and hip hop styling. In terms of commercial viability, that’s where it’s at on American radio, yet word of the collaborations left many Madonna fans nervous; for a woman who traditionally pairs herself with “undiscovered” producers, teaming with the overexposed wunderkinds of the moment had a disappointing air of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” desperation.

Fans can rest easy. Upon listening, Hard Candy shows surprisingly little compromise by Madonna. It’s not her best album, but it’s at least her own; she’s mostly managed to reign in her young producers like leashed hunks in her music videos, forcing them to adapt their sound to hers as opposed to vice versa.

Their work doesn’t go totally unmitigated. Timbaland, formerly one his generation’s greatest producers and currently one of its laziest, too often taps into his usual arsenal of bhangra beats. But on “Dance 2Night,” a stellar funk-disco track that’s chorus lovingly recalls Teena Marie’s “I Need Your Lovin’,” his contribution yields the kind of platform-shoe-stomping explosiveness that a dancing queen like Madonna demands. And “Miles Away,” the closest the album ever comes to a ballad, is probably its best moment. “You always love me more, miles away / I hear it in your voice, we’re miles away / I guess we’re at our best when we’re miles away,” sings Madonna over a strumming guitar and stuttering, symphonic beat. It’s gorgeous, euphoric and melancholy, like hitting the dance floor with tears in your eyes. But highlights aside, Timbaland is also responsible for some of the album’s weaker moments. The less said about “Spanish Lesson,” the better. Ai papi!

Pharrell, who previously brought Britney Spears the closest she’s come to actual innovation with 2001’s surprisingly clever, not surprisingly underrated “Slave 4 U,” seems more consistent and comfortable in aligning his sound with a pop diva.

He helps Madonna launch the disc with “Candy Shop,” her invitation to taste “sticky and sweet” delectables. “My sugar is raw,” she coos, as though it’s the Erotica album all over again. Sure, the tawdry double entendres might seem predictable, but after a decade of ruminations on the price of fame and the plight of the world, it’s actually more refreshing to see Madonna leave the horse for dead and remind us that dancing, screwing, and taking over the world are still A Few of Her Favorite Things.

And politically speaking, it’s more subversive, anyway. After all, say the pundits, shouldn’t she be crocheting herself into a dusty rocking chair by now? Shouldn’t she call over Hillary for a cup of earl gray, and leave fighting The Good Fight to the young whippersnappers who crib the playbook they wrote?

Not bloody likely.

“Don’t stop me now, no need to catch my breath. I can go on and on and on,” sings Madonna on “Give it 2 Me,” the album’s next single. Like a funhouse ride of glitchy electronica, the tracks swirls like a carousel as Madonna declares her affection for hitting the dance floor.

But given all the speculation on her age, relevancy, and commercial viability, there are some pretty obvious allusions here. Read between the lines, and you’ll find a sonic middle finger directed squarely at The Haters.

“Give it to me,” she invites. “No one’s gonna stop me now.”

“You’re only here to win,” she concludes.

And eleven albums later… Yes, She Can.