Virgin on the astonishing: Madonna, at The O2, reviewed

When I was a kid listening obsessively to AC/DC and Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath, I despaired of music writers. How come none of them – except the staff of Kerrang! magazine and a couple of writers on Sounds – could see the majesty and splendour of this music? Why were they always banging on about flipping Echo and the Bunnymen and Joy Division, or harking back to old man Dylan? These days, all three of those bands are to some degree or another as revered. Not everyone loves them, but you won’t find many serious critics – even those who don’t personally care for ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’, ‘The Number of the Beast’ or ‘War Pigs’ – who’ll simply write them off as worthless.

‘A wandering worthless exercise’, wrote NME of Madonna’s Like a Virgin. Look at her now

That’s because what you hear as a teenager informs your judgments forever. Today’s critics either grew up loving those bands like me or were part of a generation where liking them was not considered somehow déclassé. Historically, it has been the perpetual fate of many very popular artists to receive their due from critics years after they got popular – at the point when the people who despised the music have been replaced.

It’s a little startling now to think that Madonna – for so long venerated as if she were the first person to think about sex, religion and dance music or the intersection of the three – was treated as a bit of a joke by the mainstream music press. ‘Competence meets mediocrity and is rarely inspired’, said NME of her debut album. ‘A wandering, worthless exercise’, it said of her second, Like a Virgin, in a review headlined ‘Virgin on the ridiculous’.