Even if you disagree with everything she has done, a due respect that must be given to Sinéad O’Connor. For Jennifer Otter Bickerdike, it goes much deeper than that, from seeing Sinéad’s first showcase appearance at the Grammys in 1989 to anticipating her forthcoming memoirs.

Words & curation by Jennifer Otter Bickerdike, cover by Mick Clarke

It was the 1989 Grammy awards. Billy Crystal was hosting. Rap had been added as a category for the first time that year, as had Metal/Hard Rock, an award that went to Jethro Tull over heavily favoured Metallica. Guns N Roses ruled the charts. Madonna was queen of pop. Grunge hadn’t arrived; as an American, the second British invasion was still at least five plus years away.

There was a segment during the show where new artists were showcased, presented to a global audience. Crystal looked into the camera, and told the viewers to ‘meet’ a 21-year old that ‘comes from Ireland, and with her very first album, The Lion and The Cobra, has served notice that this is no ordinary talent.’ A pale, rather gangly young woman emerged from behind the scenes and took to the stage. The opening chords of ‘Mandinka’ came on. She was clearly singing to a backing track, as there was not a band or instrument in sight. She was a lone figure amidst a massive, huge, barren space; there were no back up dancers, no fancy back drops or pyrotechnics. All eyes are on her. She is wearing baggy, loose fitting stone washed jeans, close cropped hair, combat boots and a black halter top. At first, her movements and awkward dancing are endearing and understandable; as the song builds, she becomes more confident; eventually, she fills up the entire room with her power. She is strong, she is defiant, she is beautiful. She is Sinead O’Connor and I am immediately obsessed.

To my fifteen year old ears, The Lion and The Cobra was a cornucopia of strange, exotic, exquisite sounds. Besides the rather poppy ‘Mandinka,’ the record was packed with slower, haunting tracks that I did not really understand, but knew they were important. At the time, I thought the lyrics to cuts like ‘Drink Before the War’ were probably about historic Irish battles, as O’Connor threads her heritage throughout her work. Looking at the same words as an adult, it seems much more likely she is referring to relationship break downs as the combat zone:

‘Somebody cut out your eyes
You refuse to see
Somebody cut out your heart
You refuse to feel’

The biggest gem on this record is the often criminally overlooked ‘I Want Your (Hands On Me).’ What a tune! Filled with longing and need, the song also highlights the fun side of Sinéad. The extended version is a double-dip of fabulousness, featuring none other than bad ass rapper MC Lyte spitting out some verses. The contrast of O’Connor’s saintly voice and Lyte’s gruffer delivery are pure magic.

While I was an early Sinéad adopter, the world (or at least the US- who think they are the world) came to know O’Connor for two major things. The first was her haunting rendition of the Prince song, ‘Nothing Compares 2 U.’ The track blasted up the charts around the world, making Sinead a household name. The accompanying video played heavily on the highly influential MTV. It shows a black trench-coated Sinéad walking gloomily around the Parc de Saint-Cloud in Paris, intercut with close ups of her angelic, bare face. Toward the end of the video, two tears roll down her face, one on each cheek. O’Connor said the tears were spontaneous, brought on by thoughts of her mother who died in a car crash in 1985. O’Connor’s vulnerability was greatly awarded, as the video garnered numerous MTV Music Video awards in 1990, including Video of the Year (O'Connor was the first female artist to be awarded it), Best Female Video and Best Post-Modern Video. It was nominated for Breakthrough Video, Viewer's Choice and International Viewer's Choice during the ceremony.

The second moment which defined O’Connor for many people was not her music, but her bravery to use her platform as a celebrity to bring attention to a cause that she felt passionate about. On the weekly late night show Saturday Night Live in October 1992, O’Connor was featured as the musical guest. After performing an a cappella version of Bob Marley’s ‘War’ which she meant as a protest against child abuse in the Catholic Church, O’Connor held a picture of Pope John Paul II up the camera, sang the word ‘Evil,’ then ripped the image up to tiny pieces before tossing them at the camera. This all took place nine years before the Pope acknowledged any sexual abuse within the Church. Outrage, disgust and immediate ‘cancelling’ – before we even used that term- ensued. The promising, sky rocketing career seemed to suddenly plummet to the ground and all but disappear from much of the mainstream press- and all at her own hand because of this ‘crazy’ protest.

In the last thirty years since this defining incident, O’Connor has released eight albums, become an ordained priest, retired, come out of retirement, suffered mental health problems, converted to Islam, come out as gay, been married to three men, had three of her four children and continued to dare to be outspoken.  O’Connor’s biggest crime is the age old cliché of being far, far ahead of her time. She used the spotlight to draw attention to issues she found troubling; but instead of following her gaze to the problem, we the audience were encouraged to look at the ‘unhinged’ woman doing something ‘bad,’ when, in actuality, she was right all along.  Yet she was chastised for being outspoken, punished by a lack of positive publicity, labelled too radical- which, to be honest, her stripped down style already had her on the brink of being cast aside in a sea of boobs, butts and plastered on make-up. Her openness about mental health, her own struggles with bi-polar, fame and agoraphobia have never been heralded as the courageous light so many people, especially women, need. In an open letter to a young Miley Cyrus in 2013, Sinead reminded the singer that, ‘Women are to be valued for so much more than their sexuality. We aren't merely objects of desire. I would be encouraging you to send healthier messages to your peers.’ It was another moment of pure bad-assery that made my heart sing.

I own all of the entire O’Connor catalogue. I still play The Lion and The Cobra often. But there are other, equally amazing tracks and records. Faith and Courage from 2000 is equally as timeless as her first two albums, and deserves to be played back to front, repeatedly. Sinéad is one of my heroines, not only because of her art, but because of who she is as a person. Her constant journey of self-discovery under the public eye is one that any self-aware adult can relate to. Though she has faced controversies in the past, she still tirelessly puts herself out for causes that she believes are important. In 2020, she worked with legendary British filmmaker, Don Letts on a video in aid of Black Lives Matter, covering American gospel queen Mahalia Jackson’s “Trouble of the World.” All proceeds from the single went to Black Lives Matter.

Even if you disagree with everything she has done, there is a grudgingly respect that must be given to O’Connor. She has been herself, unapologetically- and that is something we can all strive to be achieve.

Sinéad O’Connor’s biography Rememberings is out on June 1st 2021 on Penguin

Jen Otter Bickerdike’s book on Nico is published July 1st in the UK and 20th August USA