Cher, Miley, Madonna: the Unholy Trinity (originally published on GuySpy Oct 1 2013)

Cher, Miley, Madonna: The Unholy Trinity

It’s official: pop has run out of songs. Whilst cocking an ear at the new Cher single “I Hope You Find It” earlier this week, I thought to myself “this seems awfully familiar.” And barely thirty seconds of research revealed that, yes it was familiar. It’s an old Miley Cyrus tune from 2010, and a pretty terrible one at that.

It’s one of those awful Anthems of Low Self Esteem where a spurned lover lingers by a rain-dappled window looking miserably hopeful. I was about to get all grumpy at this horrific example of pop eating itself, but then I realised it gave me a chance to bang on once again about two – actually three – of my favourite ladies.

Miley, of course, is on an upward trajectory at the moment, while only a fool would argue that Cher isn’t sliding, albeit loudly, towards the Shady Pines retirement home of her career. She has in fact become the batty old lady who sits on her porch swing shouting obscenities at provocatively dressed young people who cross her line of vision.

With pleasing symmetry, much of her recent vitriol has been directed at none other than Miley: “She can’t dance, her body looked like hell, the song wasn’t great, one cheek was hanging out. And chick, don’t stick your tongue out if it’s coated.”

miley1

Cher’s other favourite punch bag is Madonna. Proof that her eye for an easy target hasn’t yet diminished – and somehow when she calls her “Madge” it is SO much more demeaning than when anyone else on the planet does it.
 
When Madonna launched her oh-god-what-the-hell-is-this-just-make-a-decent-record-will-you Secret Project “revolution” thingy in London last week, the glorious pomposity of the whole thing was punctured by a slightly tipsy figure in the shadows who emerged to shout “Get your fanny out! That’s what we’re all here for!” Pretty sure that was Cher.
madonnasecret
 
Ideally, I’d like to see this situation spiral out of control, forming an ever more complex, M.C. Escher-inspired world in which Cher, Miley and Madonna ONLY cover each other’s songs, bitch about each other incessantly and then all turn up to the MTV awards in identical dresses which are age-inappropriate for two out of three of them. Can it end any other way?
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