Live To Tell After 30 years of provocation, a fiery Madonna explains why she isn’t nearly done pushing limits. “She’s coming out,” a choreograph says over P.A. system, sounding tense. “Everyone gets your horns and masks on.” A couple of nights before the Grammys, 22 shirtless, flawlessly fit male dancersm each equipped with a bejeweled face mask and hazardous-looking black bull’s horns, line up on a reharsal-studio stage within Sony Pictures’ Culver City lot, awaiting inspection. madonna struts out of a dressing roomfar across the studio, dressed in a matador outfit, sans pants. Trailed by a hairstylist and a makeup artist, she spends at least 30 seconds eyeing each dancer, probing for any tiny imperfections in the fit of their leather costumes and masks. “I don’t want oil on their bodies,” she notes. “I had the same problem on the video. You can use body moisturizer.” Twenty-eight choral singers, most of them less finely sculpted specimens, assemble by the...