The Last Day of Our Acquaintance

There are pop stars, and then there are artists for whom the audience’s personal connection and emotional investment go way beyond mere fandom, and not always in a healthy way. That can be a testament to the power of the art, but it’s not always great for the artist either.

I think the first time I ever saw or heard Sinéad O’Connor was a live televised performance of “Mandinka,” a rocker off her 1987 debut album, The Lion and the Cobra. Like legions of us who would become her passionate admirers, I was knocked on my ass. This stark, doe-like beauty who seemed so small and fragile, except — uh — she was positively snarling, singing with a force that was almost not to be believed, a voice that had both aching vulnerability and searing intelligence, but also volcanic power. Clearly, this was Not a Woman to Be Fucked With.

And that was only the smallest first taste of what made her such a transformational artist.

Soon I Can Give You My Heart

From the moment we saw her, my brother — a musician — and I became enormous Sinéad fans, not only because of her talent and the thrilling impact of her work, but because of her uncompromising integrity, her ferocious independence, and her obvious struggle to be her own person — and artist — in a heartless and exploitative world…..what The New Yorker’s Amanda…