Troy
The first single from Sinéad O’Connor’s debut album is intensely personal. Its lyrics weave together depictions of private traumas and the struggle between resilience and self-destruction, anchored by pointed references to Helen of Troy (“Being what I am/There is no other Troy/For me to burn”) via a WB Yeats poem. Panoramic orchestral washes and then prickly keyboards buoy O’Connor’s magnificent voice, leading to a dynamic and measured performance pierced with desire, regret, anger and ferocity, where sharp-edged strings storm forth at pivotal moments to amplify her intensity.
Mandinka
In 1989, O’Connor performed her electrifying, rock-oriented second single, Mandinka, at the Grammy awards. It was a stunning appearance: alone on the spacious stage in front of an industry audience, she exuded fiery confidence. That same thrilling fearlessness permeates the studio version of the song, which was inspired by Alex Haley’s seminal book Roots. O’Connor said in her book Rememberings that Mandinka marked “the first time I had the courage to play guitar properly” – a leap forward matched by strident vocals full of acrobatic howls and coos.
I Want Your (Hands On Me)
O’Connor’s lighter lyrical moments can sometimes be overlooked because so much of her catalog is so serious. But I Want Your (Hands on Me), which appeared in both the TV show Miami Vice and the horror movie A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master, was revolutionary in its own way. Musically, it was a sensual funk seduction with a liquid bass groove and percolating hip-hop beats; the aural equivalent of O’Connor’s forthright lyrics, which are frank on sexual desire, and her unapologetic come-hither vocals. A remix with rapper MC Lyte reaffirms O’Connor’s sex-positive stance.
Kingdom of Rain by The The
O’Connor’s expressive vocal range made her an excellent collaborator, as she inhabited other styles (and nuanced characters) with ease. As the duet partner of Matt Johnson on The The’s track Kingdom of Rain – a simmering, funereal chronicle of a disintegrating relationship – she’s a heartbroken partner who is equal parts stunned and bereft by a romantic betrayal. In contrast to Johnson’s menacing whispers and growls, O’Connor doesn’t shy away from her big feelings, leaning into anguish (“And you were the boy who turned into the man/Broke my heart and let go off my hand”) and desperation (“I just wanted somebody to possess”).
Nothing Compares 2 U
It’s almost an understatement to say Nothing Compares 2 U is the most stunning performance of O’Connor’s career. But her interpretation of Prince’s song is a singular moment of emotional catharsis, a performance drawn from deep wells of sorrow, heartbreak and pain that brings listeners to their knees with its vulnerability. Although she keeps a stiff upper lip, noting she has the freedom to take meals at fancy restaurants and go where she pleases, a piece of her heart is still missing. O’Connor never overdoes the pathos or understates her sorrow. Nothing Compares 2 U is a perfect song.
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Backed by an all-star band – guitarist Marco Pirroni (Adam and the Ants), bassist Andy Rourke (the Smiths) and drummer John Reynolds (her first husband) – O’Connor succinctly detonates oppressive power imbalances (“They laugh ‘cause they know they’re untouchable/Not because what I said was wrong”) and defiantly states she’ll continue to live life on her own terms. Accordingly, The Emperor’s New Clothes is matter-of-fact about taboos in pop music (“But you know how it is/And how a pregnancy can change you”) and makes it quite clear that the unvarnished truth is what sets O’Connor free. Public Enemy producer Hank Shocklee also remixed the song, a nod to her forward-thinking sonic excursions.
I Am Stretched On Your Grave
Grief was never far from the surface of many O’Connor songs. That’s particularly true on I Am Stretched On Your Grave, a translation of a 17th-century Irish poem featuring a protagonist who finds it impossible to move on after a loved one has died. Rather than being a mournful benediction, however, the song employs languid hip-hop beats to mirror the dull metallic ache of all-consuming grief. O’Connor is an empathetic voice throughout, a steady narrator affirming the eternal love conveyed in the song – before the Waterboys’ Steve Wickham chimes in to end the song with grim fiddle.
Last Day of Our Acquaintance
Initially a sparse, wrenching song driven by fluttering acoustic guitar, Last Day of Our Acquaintance describes the agonising countdown to what’s ostensibly a divorce, given references to a changed relationship and a meeting “later in somebody’s office”. As the song progresses, O’Connor uses her voice to channel an emotional transformation. At first, she sings in a fragile whisper that’s broken and resigned – a mirror of the narrator’s sadness and confusion – before gradually gaining strength and boldness, in tandem with the music becoming more forceful and the protagonist realising their life is now just beginning. A self-empowered triumph.
Black Boys on Mopeds
Never one to shy away from standing up for her convictions, O’Connor wrote in her memoir Rememberings that she used a real-life incident involving two young teenagers for the tender-but-resigned Black Boys on Mopeds. The pair borrowed bikes from a family member without permission, were chased by police and later died after a crash. O’Connor used this story as a basis to call out political hypocrisy, racism and police brutality, singing in a lullaby-like tone that underscores her sadness: “England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses/It’s the home of police who kill Black boys on mopeds.”
You Made Me the Thief of Your Heart
Co-written by Bono, Gavin Friday and Maurice Seezer for the 1993 film In the Name of the Father, this foreboding Celtic folk-rocker has one of O’Connor’s most searing vocal performances. As glassy piano, stern strings and gently syncopated rhythms purr along in the background, she puts a former lover in his place: “You made me cold and you made me hard/And you made me the thief of your heart.” At times, O’Connor doubles her voice, creating a haunted atmosphere; at other times, she belts out the lyrics in an agonised tone that transcends despair.
