In its own way, Lady Gaga's latest album, Joanne, is a portrait of what should be at a time when it's so hard to stomach what is. You could use any number of words to describe the cultural moment we're stuck in — dizzying, frantic, desperate, traumatic, loud, relentless. One that typically doesn't come up is "conversational."
There's no room for exchange, no back-and-forth that isn't cacophonous. We're trapped in a political screaming match. We're listening not to understand, but to retaliate. Although it was a deeply personal endeavor, Gaga's creation of the record shows a willingness to reach across the aisle. It's a concept we hardly recognize anymore.
Last year, she told tales from America's greatest songbook alongside Tony Bennett. This time, the artist draws from blues-soaked, country-tinged motifs that are distinctly and unabashedly American.
Far from the raging electro anthems for which the singer is known, Joanne is filled to the brim with roaring, honest tracks that strike universal chords. While themes of inclusivity and disobedience are on-message with Gaga's philosophy, her delivery is in uncharted territory. It fills a conversational space that often feels vacuous.
When speaking about the album, Gaga has a spectator in mind. In an interview for The Sunday Times, she explains that the listener living in her head is "in Middle America with hair pulled back and no makeup and jewelry heirlooms from her family, a sweatshirt you'd buy at the drugstore, a kid in one hand, pinot grigio in the other... you don't know if she's married.
"But she's at my show crying her eyes out because she feels I'm speaking to her."
Since her rise, Gaga has made a concerted effort to stay in touch with her biggest fans. She's gone back and forth with followers of Top 40 charts and pop devotees the world over. Her leather-clad, teal-haired base has historically fallen to the political left.
This time, however, she reaches out to someone with whom she's never really spoken — the mom who's just trying to get her kids through school. The father who's falling further right of his son by the minute. She's stringing threads across chasms, spinning a web that anyone could get wrapped up and lost in.
Gaga's signature raucousness certainly isn't lost on Joanne. Songs like "Perfect Illusion," "A-Yo" and "Dancin' in Circles" are destined for late nights spent spinning around piles of bags and shoes. Free-spirited anthems like "John Wayne" are meaty enough for any listener to sink their teeth into. "Diamond Heart," another standout, rumbles with relatable themes of self-acceptance and joy in the face of trauma.
The title track is a one-take ride through a family tragedy that invites you to sit and watch someone wrap her hands — her father's hands — around loss. Although Gaga is no stranger to acoustic tracks, there's something different about Joanne. It's a catch in her throat that you feel start to feel in the back of your own.
Nowhere is the art of conversation celebrated more explicitly, however, than it is in "Hey Girl," an homage to womanhood told through a seemingly improvised back-and-forth between herself and Florence Welch. Again, Gaga reaches out and again, she grabs onto something vital.
Beyond that, though, there are traces of an artist — a woman, a person — run ragged.
"Angel Down," which resonates in a nation marred by senseless violence, comes at a time when criminal justice reform is an issue that must be met with unspeakable urgency. It comes at a time when the LGBTQ community falls under constant attack and women's suffrage is once again up for debate.
It comes at a time when oppression is somehow open to interpretation.
"I'm a believer. It's chaos. Where are our leaders?" Gaga asks over an aching, sparkling track. She does not politicize. She drives the song home in a common tongue. It is the language of grief checked by the promise of something better.
While not every song on the record is so pointed, the package deal extends an olive branch to those who have never connected with her before. Listening to Joanne isn't about drawing lines in the sand. There's a universality about the album that could not have come at a better time.
As one of her diehards, I know that nothing this woman does is accidental. That is the essence of her greatness. Gaga's relentless evolution is present and nuanced in polarizing times.
And by channeling her late Aunt Joanne, she reaches inside her own gut and hands fistfuls of herself to perfect strangers. She does exactly what we won't do out of fear, greed and prejudice. She is humble and real where we are proud and terrified.
Lady Gaga doesn't offer answers to our growing problems on this album. She doesn't draw road maps from point A to point B. The artist presents to us the prospect of unity with a simple change in delivery. What she gives us is a jumping-off place.
Joanne might not be flawless, but I know she's got a diamond heart.
