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In Memoriam

July 26, 2023 — Leave a comment

A small tribute to a woman who was speaking truths before social media was invented, and before saying controversial things became cool—and damn-near a status symbol …

Starting a public controversy, and dealing with the consequences, was a very different thing before social media started; and Sinead didn’t have it easy. There was no applause, there were no tweets and re-tweets. I’m no-one to bestow the title of ‘brave’ on someone else—and she wouldn’t ask, or need, me to do it—but, I don’t throw that word around lightly and, for whatever it’s worth, I would call her brave.

I hardly ever write eulogies, why am I writing this one?

She wasn’t my favourite singer; there’s a few things about her that I didn’t like; and if we had met I’m sure she would have found quite a few things she didn’t like about me. But I’m writing this because she was meaningful to me as a human, and she was meaningful to me because of her actions.

Society says you have to endlessly praise those who you relate to and endlessly find fault in those with whom you don’t. Fuck that. Yes, I relate to her in her love of music, in having had to carry with the weight of an abusive Catholic society, and in other more personal things. But, in fact, we were quite different people from quite different worlds …

Here’s to you Sinead:

I did not always agree with you. You were not my hero, you were not someone I aspired to be like; but you made me feel like it was OK to be different and you did so because of how deeply you felt and how brave you were.
[I often hear the phrase “so-and-so made me feel it was OK to be different”; but I hear it used in a context where it really means “someone monetized being the type of ‘different’ that’s easy for me to be, and now I can be mindlessly self-indulgent and you can too”—and the entertainment industry is happy to push that narrative because it helps expands their markets and sell more products. Fuck that. I don’t mean it like that.]

I mean that you made me realize that it was OK for you to be different than me, and it was OK for me to be different than you, and it was OK for us to be different than those who use their power to hurt people. And you did that because of how you lived, not because of how you talked.

I didn’t always see genius, I often saw someone going off the rails, someone crazy; but I never saw a dumb celebrity acting crazy because it was profitable or comfortable. You’re one of the few people, famous or not, that I can think of that walked up to the edge honestly—not because it was cool, not because it was easy, but because you felt you needed to. And the times that you fucked up, don’t matter much to me because you were human.

I appreciated and I admired some of the things you did. And I appreciate that you wouldn’t want me to appreciate everything that you did. You did not try to be a false idol; you were famous but you were not a celebrity.

You were a hell of a singer. You respected your craft. You knew what you were doing when others didn’t.

Thank you for the lessons. Thank you for memories.

[clumsily listed below, in chronological order as they happened in my life …]

  • Singing Bob Marley’s War and ripping the picture of the pope on TV, I didn’t know you could do
    either. Fight the real enemy.
  • My mother being moved by Nothing Compares 2 U
  • Choosing to sing “probably the most difficult Gershwin song there is”. You were wearing yourself out in this session; I was about 14, struggling with music school … I never became a musician but you showed me how a true artist sings the tune he needs to sing, not an easier one.
  • Coming back years later to stand by your words …
  • Sampling James Brown’s Funky Drummer on your song I Am Stretched On Your Grave—definitely one of the most creative uses of that sample.
  • The Foggy Dew

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/jun/11/rememberings-by-sinead-oconnor-review-a-tremendous-catalogue-of-misbehaviour