Remembering Irish heroine Miss Sinéad O'Connor, born in Dublin on this day in 1966.
This loss still hurts. I doubt I'll ever recover from it. The world would lose Sinéad in July 2023.
A soul too pure for this earthy plain—a soul hopefully and finally at peace. Today, Sinéad would have been 58 years old.
Like many, I've been captivated by her artistry and passion. Her spirit was fierce and unwavering, a force that demanded attention and respect. My connection to her work is deeply personal; it has left a lasting impression in the deepest parts of me.
It was in 1988 that I first heard O'Connor's howl in “I Want Your (Hands on Me)” on the soundtrack for A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master. (Thanks to my brothers, Toby and Ron!) And then, like most, I was captivated by the definitive and soulfully devastating cover of Prince's “Nothing Compares 2 U”. I still remember the first time I saw the video clip: the stunning being, the piercing eyes, that single tear. I was entranced! And nearly 35 years later, Sinéad O'Connor's music still holds me in its spell in ways I've never bothered to count.
This brings us to the massive album “I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got,” released in March 1990.
Admittedly, I'd arrive at this album AFTER 1992's torch song affair that is “Am I Not Your Girl?” (To this day, my favorite of Sinéad's work!) My way into O'Connor's work is NOT a straight line. (But I digress … )
Back to “I Do Not Want … ”
Of course, the Prince cover is gorgeous. But it's in the other nine songs that I'd discover why Sinéad O'Connor was critical to my formative years. This album was for deep listening. Yes, you have the alternative bopper, “The Emperor's New Clothes,” and the post-punk shredder, “Jump In the River.” But I was taking solace in the softer numbers most of the time.
Tracks like “Three Babies” and “Black Boys on Mopeds” are gut-wrenching and thought-provoking. Even in 2024, I feel every word and nuance as though I Don't Want What I Haven't Got came out last week. This is the power of Sinéad O'Connor's music; it transcends time and space, reaching in deep, holding on, and refusing to let go.
Back in early 2023, when Tom Flannery and I were writing for my Wishing On a Train album, during one of our many text messages, Tom wrote, “Your record needs a 'Strange Fruit' moment. “
In that instant, I knew what song it had to be.
It's upsetting that songs like Strange Fruit and Black Boys on Mopeds are relevant in 2023-2024, but here we are.
Recording Sinéad's “Black Boys on Mopeds” is a true honor. It was one of the earlier sessions with Bret Alexander. The two of us as a duo live. Initially, I felt that my vocal performance was not up to snuff, but Bret helped to ease my insecurities. He knows how much I admire O'Connor's work. So we worked until I was comfortable. The song has a unique time signature that, at first, I struggled to settle into. Eventually, I was able to find my way in. It's a beautifully fragile recording. I particularly love how the guitar and piano blend. There's just a certain “something” about it.
Listening to this track now, I am reminded that when we recorded Black Boys on Mopeds, Sinéad was still alive. So, the song was used to speak of particular turbulence in this modern world. In light of her passing, this cover is also a celebration of Sinéad O'Connor's brilliant songwriting and her empathy residing within the most tender of hearts.
This is Bret's favorite vocal of mine on Wishing on a Train. I am grateful that we captured this one!
Thank you, dear Sinéad! Thank you.
Photograph by Terry O’Neill / Hulton/Getty