From “Girls at the greasy end of the rock business”, October 17th, 1986
The garage band – it’s a phrase that captures the intense, home-grown yearning of young aspiring musicians who want to be recognised by the 1980s music culture they identify with. Playing music in the “garage”, in nowheresville, forming a sound, an image, working towards playing in small clubs, recording a demo tape, are part of a lifestyle that few Irish women were part of until recently.
Ireland has produced the two most compelling international figures in 1980s rock culture, Bono of U2 and Bob Geldof. But an Irish woman is yet to make a similar impact. From total anonymity to successful self-employment in the high-profile music business – it’s a new kind of Cinderella story for both young Irish men and women. And Prince Charming is a record-company executive with a recording contract up his sleeve who says, “Come out of the garage and into the limelight.”
Sinéad O’Connor (19), who leads her own band, “Sinead”, really isn’t a garage girl any more. She has just recorded a single with the Edge, of U2, and her first album will be released in January on Ensign Records. She lives in her own apartment in London and looks back on the day she “did a bunk”, at 17, ran away from Newtown School in Waterford, disappeared into Dún Laoghaire and embarked on her life, with not a little satisfaction. (After all, look what happened.)
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Skinhead hairstyle, sweet Laura Ashley dress, aggressive Doc Marten boots, round innocent-looking eyes and all, she says “I’m a real schizophrenic ... I like to contrast five or six elements of one person in me ... I have a skinhead, but I’m not a skinhead. I have the haircut because it makes me feel clear; it makes me feel good. I like to say, ‘I’m not a man or a woman – I’m Sinéad O’Connor.’”
She didn’t need a fairy godmother to help her form the personal style that makes her a potential star. It all started when the headmaster at Newtown let her do a demo tape with her Irish teacher, Gerald Falvey, and a friend, Jeremy Maber. Next, she says, “I decided I wanted to be a singer.”
She sang with a couple of Dublin bands (including In Tua Nua) and at one point a record-company executive, Nigel Grange, heard her and kept in touch, suggesting that she make a tape of her own songs. Sinéad is somewhat starry-eyed and breathless in the way she describes her next break, the offer of a contract in 1985: “It was surprising. I was just kind of having a laugh. I wasn’t looking for a record deal – somebody up there likes me.”
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In this specially extended podcast, Sinead O'Connor invites us into her home to talk about her extraordinary new memoir.
Meanwhile Ossie Kilkenny, U2′s accountant, heard about her contract and did his own little bit of fairy godmothering, contacting her father, a barrister, and “being very helpful in making sure it was safe for me to go ahead.” Kilkenny also introduced her to Bono of U2, and the two sat down and had “a long talk” and seemed to share similar views.
“A voice is something that comes from your heart, your soul, your head and your body,” says Sinéad. “I don’t need to drink or take drugs. All I need to do is sing ... It makes me feel so relieved ... I don’t want to look like a fashion model, I want to look like Sinéad. I don’t wear make-up at all, I don’t feel pretty – I feel like me.” But she hasn’t felt influenced by feminism. “It’s just my personality.”
