Sinead O'Connor war Irlands alternativer moralischer Kompass
On 9 March, Sinead O'Connor takes the stage at Vicar Street Music Hall, Dublin.
Her arrival drew a standing ovation. O'Connor attended the RTE Choice Music Awards, a night celebrating the best Irish albums of the past year. To mark the occasion, we've invented a new award: a classic Irish album, where O'Connor accepted the award for their 1990 album I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got.
It was the day after my 40th birthday. Her presence detached me from this milestone in my life and made me feel strangely grounded: Sinead is here, all is well in the world. Before presenting the award to refugees in Ireland, she smiled almost shyly as she heard the cheers of the crowd cheering her.
O'Connor tends to show up at just the right time. Her appearance this time made everyone breathe a sigh of relief, and everyone was worried about her. Their son Shane took his own life in 2022. He was 17 years old that year. She's no stranger to articulating her own personal issues: the abuse she suffered as a child, the influence of the news media that sometimes harassed her, her bipolar and PTSD diagnoses.
At the time, O'Connor was enjoying something of a renaissance. Her 2021 memoir, "Reminiscence," has been well received, and she has enthusiastically posted positive reviews on social media. Kathryn Ferguson's 2022 documentary Nothing Compares rightly positions her as Ireland's alternative moral compass, driven by integrity and authenticity, not shame.
Ireland felt like the wrong place when I was a kid, but I can't imagine how unreal it is. As a Catholic, I had to deal with the odd issue of First Communion, Novena and going to the Shrine of Knock. Resisting this idea is incomprehensible. Dominion of the Church is simply granted.
When I was nine, TV news reporting that O'Connor's destruction of a photo of Pope John Paul II on "Saturday Night Live" was blasphemous ignored the serious message behind the crime. He is a living saint of Irish society. It shocked the whole country, and it shocked me. can you do this
There was no MTV in my house, but for some odd reason, my grandmother’s television set, on the other side of the country, in Galway, provided this magic portal. I would stay up late when visiting her, and O’Connor would drop in. “Nothing Compares 2 U.” Her open, searching gaze. The tear. You could do that, too? You could shave your head? Dye Public Enemy’s logo on the side of your head? Be an Irish woman wearing ripped denim on television? Go on an Irish chat show dressed as a priest? Come out as lesbian, and later declare you were “three-quarters heterosexual, a quarter gay”?