Things are dire in Sillywriterland, but let not my everyday struggle distract me from key events. Sinéad O'Connor died today.
Enough people are glossing her legacy, so I'll speak from unfiltered subjectivity: she's in my top 3 musicians ever. I discovered her first two albums in my early 20s: literally found the LPs in the basement and waited till I was alone at my parents' to play them. They blew me away. To hell with the narrative of the one-hit-wonder; don't buy it. "Nothing compares 2 u" is an anecdote. The Lion and the Cobra is raw power; I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got is power with a flourish. The Year of the Horse (concert recorded in Amsterdam) is astounding. Those two LPs' sleeves went on to decorate my home of nine years (the European versions; Americans imposed a different photo for The Lion because the original scared them). On my first trip to NYC I listened to her the whole flight back (I was very sad to return). "It's All Good" is my fave song to play on repeat while hiking in the violet hours. I hear "John I love you" + "My Darling Child" in my head when I curl up and cry. I went to see her live in Barcelona in 2008 and sent her a book with a novella I'd written inspired by "Jackie" and translated to English for her alone. My longest comic (24 pages) is dedicated to her. If you liked The Supernatural Enhancements, know Niamh would not exist without Sinéad.
I wish to be capable of such anger and such tenderness as Sinéad O'Connor. May you rest in power. Is breá liom tú.