10 Essential Sinéad O’Connor Songs That Aren’t “Nothing Compares 2 U”
The post 10 Essential Sinéad O’Connor Songs That Aren’t “Nothing Compares 2 U” appeared first on Consequence.
Across a tumultuous 56 years, Sinéad O’Connor was subjected to more than her fair share of slings and arrows, but she took all that hell and transformed it into a vast heaven of songs. Across 10 albums and over 30 years of work, she never stopped wrestling with a sense of belonging, from the interconnectedness of lovers to the group politics of nations and religions. Of all her identities, she struggled perhaps the most with her self, a quest reflected in her name changes (first Magda Davitt and then finally Shuhada’ Sadaqat, though she continued to make art under her birth name O’Connor).
From such a rich and jagged life, she lives in the popular imagination as the singer of one great tune, “Nothing Compares 2 U,” the mega-smash hit written by Prince. And she is that, of course, her otherworldly vocals electrically expressing the Purple One’s melody. But O’Connor is so much more than her biggest hit, with a breadth of ideas and sounds that few artists can match.
Following her untimely death at the age of 56, we’ve put together a celebration of those accomplishments. Check out 10 essential songs that best showcase Sinéad O’Connor’s musical artistry.
— Wren Graves
Features Editor
“Mandinka” (The Lion and the Cobra, 1987)
The second single off O’Connor’s debut album, The Lion and the Cobra, was the rousing “Mandinka.” For many, it was this track that first introduced audiences to her wholly unique, wildly versatile voice. “Mandinka,” which was written about an African tribe depicted in Alex Haley’s 1976 book Roots: The Saga of an American Family, splits the difference between the energetic rock of her early career and the left-of-center pop for which she’d become known. And throughout, O’Connor represents every side of her voice — her carnal belts, shimmering head voice, and intimate low end are all on display, marking the arrival of a truly inimitable star. — Paolo Ragusa
“Drink Before the War” (The Lion and the Cobra, 1987)
“Drink Before the War,” another entry from O’Connor’s debut album, is a solemn, seething track that skewers a male oppressor — his insistence on war, his privileged attitude, his refusal to listen, and his personal emotional infrastructure. “Why don’t you go out there and do something useful?” she spits in the final pre-chorus, making it purposely ambiguous whether she’s quoting these tyrants or telling them herself. Across five minutes, O’Connor builds to a boiling point, letting her aching alto ring out with passion and calling to arms all those who have fallen victim to these oppressors throughout their lives. O’Connor was no stranger to depicting a tortured perspective, but on “Drink Before the War,” her anguish transforms into righteous, earth-shattering power. — P. Ragusa
“The Last Day of Our Acquaintance” (I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, 1990)
Devastating in its simplicity, “Last Days of Our Acquaintance” revels in the quietness of endings. Just a repeating acoustic guitar and a few lamenting verses for almost the entirety of the track, this song originated from 1990’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got (the same album on which “Nothing Compares 2 U” resides). It’s that sweet spot of vulnerability and hard edges that makes it so memorable. — Mary Siroky
“Black Boys on Mopeds” (I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, 1990)
Imagine it’s 1990: You excitedly pick up a copy of Sinéad O’Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, you press play, and you anxiously await to hear the smash single “Nothing Compares 2 U.” Just a single track before you get to the Prince-penned classic, though, a devastating wake-up call of a ballad bursts in without warning — “Black Boys on Mopeds.”
One of O’Connor’s most moving tracks, “Black Boys on Mopeds” is a cutting, strangely beautiful takedown of disingenuous and demagogic politicians, police brutality, and the direction in which society is headed. Inspired by the police killing of a Black man in 1983 England, the song’s lyrics remain disturbingly relevant three decades later. With its starkness, poignant message, and delicate melody, not only is it an essential Sinead O’Connor song, but a track that is essentially Sinead O’Connor. — Jonah Krueger
“The Emperor’s New Clothes” (I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, 1990)
This is one of the most straightforward songs in O’Connor’s catalog — in more ways to one. For one, it’s a poppier number than just about anything else she recorded, a more accessible sound designed perfectly for turn-of-the-decade alternative radio (it hit No. 1 on the Billboard US Alternative Airplay list). For two, it’s lyrically blunt and unforgiving, as the artist confronts a world aiming judgement at this single Irish Catholic mother just beginning to wrestle with fame. Even though the song is a certifiable bop, it’s loaded with trademark defiance, with O’Connor promising to “live by my own policies” and “sleep with a clear conscience” no matter what the public threw at her. — Ben Kaye
“War” (Live Performance, 1992)
Sinéad O’Connor’s powerful rendition of “War” by Bob Marley and the Wailers on Saturday Night Live in 1992 remains one of the most striking performances in television history. O’Connor took the stage singing a capella, reworking some of the lyrics to tackle child abuse. As she sang the line “good over evil,” she tore an image of Pope John Paul II to protest the Catholic Church’s sexual abuse scandal, saying, “Fight the real enemy.” Her appearance evoked an immediate backlash and led her to becoming banned from NBC, while highlighting O’Connor’s willingness to always speaking her truth, not matter the consequences. — Sun Noor
“Thank You for Hearing Me” (Universal Mother, 1994)
Not every romantic relationship’s demise is accompanied exclusively by heartache. With “Thank You for Hearing Me,” O’Connor cycles through the good, choosing to highlight and remember the better parts of a relationship — and most agree that this song was specifically tied to the end of her relationship with Peter Gabriel. Then, towards the conclusion of the song, there’s a shift: “Thank you for breaking my heart,” she admits. — M. Siroky
“All Apologies” (Universal Mother, 1994)
Sinéad O’Connor was no stranger to covering other artists’ songs, from “How Insensitive” to “War,” but her understated version of Nirvana’s “All Apologies” is easily one of her best. Released just months after the death of Kurt Cobain, O’Conner flips the grunge formula of the original on its head. Instead of going from the quiet verses to loud, distorted choruses, O’Connor keeps the volume as low as possible, beckoning you to lean in closer and closer as the song draws on. The result is just as effective and, perhaps, even more tear-jerking. — J. Krueger
“Jealous” (Faith and Courage, 2000)
The breakout song from 2000’s Faith and Courage is a beautiful showcase for both O’Connor’s voice and her heartfelt lyricism. Like many of her tracks, “Jealous” is about a bad boyfriend, though this time, she’s over it: “I don’t deserve to be lonely/ Just ’cause you say I do.” It’s a gentle song in spirit, though its message is powerful; it’s the sonic equivalent to the tough love of a best friend, who’s tired of hearing complaints about your abusive partner and just wants you to find happiness — because you deserve it, because everyone does. — Liz Shannon Miller
“Special Cases” (100th Window, 2003)
O’Connor co-wrote and performed this track from trip-hop group Massive Attack’s fourth album, 100th Window, and it plays like she’s always been a part of the band. “Special Cases” isn’t just a collaboration totally in line with Massive Attack’s distinctive lounge vibes, though — O’Connor’s delicate yet powerful vocals also shine out, reminding the listener that you might not know you’re in a toxic relationship unless you really look at it. — L.S. Miller
10 Essential Sinéad O’Connor Songs That Aren’t “Nothing Compares 2 U”
Consequence Staff
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