Friday, Aug. 15, 1997 | 9:56 a.m.
To the list of topics that should never be discussed at the dinner table -- politics, sex and religion -- one might consider adding Irish pop musician Sinead O'Connor.
Consider the scene at a recent dinner party, where the mere mention of the Celtic songstress elicits this hostile response from an otherwise easygoing woman: "I don't listen to her music anymore. Not since she refused to allow 'The Star Spangled Banner' to be played before her concerts." Across the table, a man adds indignantly: "I can't believe what she did on 'Saturday Night Live' -- ripping up a picture of the Pope!"
An awkward silence ensues from the remaining guests, whose feelings generally reflect the range of more publicly expressed opinions about the singer. At one end of the spectrum are those who dismiss her entirely, as Steve Hoffman -- operations manager for KEDG 103.5-FM, "The Edge" in Las Vegas -- did when he said: "I have three words I can say that I think sums (her) up: No one cares."
At the other are those who, like Bill Flanagan, editorial director of cable channel VH-1, view her as "a real, strong, vital, truth-telling personality," along the lines of such artists as John Lennon, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young.
For her part, the woman who stormed to the forefront of the popular music scene 10 years ago with a shaved head and an ax to grind has done plenty to fuel the fire. In recent years, she's publicly exposed the abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of her mother. She's railed against the Catholic church for its stance on abortion and divorce, then gone on to play the role of the Virgin Mary in "The Butcher Boy," an upcoming film by "The Crying Game" director Neil Jordan. She even reportedly suggested during an interview with Rolling Stone magazine that the woman boxer Mike Tyson raped should have shut up about it.
All the while, O'Connor has stood up to the controversy her behavior has stirred -- even when it meant alienating fans, generating negative press and prompting Frank Sinatra to suggest that she needed "a kick in the ass" (to which O'Connor replied that it wasn't the first time he had threatened a woman.)
Moving on
Still, at 30, with two kids, a full head of brunette locks, and a new album entitled "Gospel Oaks," which is full of songs of redemption and hope, O'Connor has moved beyond her more turbulent days.
And, in a recent interview, the singer -- who performs tonight at the Joint at the Hard Rock -- seemed to wish the press would too.
"My attitude is, those are things I did when I was in my 20s -- six or seven years ago -- and at that age you're (angry) at everything," she says. "I mean, I understand, in a way, the need to explain it, but I would like to leave it behind."
O'Connor's most recent songs from "Gospel Oaks" will likely take her a long way toward that goal. (The mini-album was originally released in June by Chrysalis/EMI, which has since gone out of business. It will be re-released August 26 by Columbia Records, according to a spokesman for that company.) "Gospel Oaks" has earned high praise from critics at Billboard, the New York Daily News, the New York Post and others, who invariably describe it as "gorgeous," "soothing," and "comforting."
"It's really a beautiful record," Flanagan says. "It doesn't deny other emotions, but it does also sort of value comfort. And comfort, soothing and healing are emotions that have been undervalued by the (popular) music world."
Robert Hilburn, pop music critic for the Los Angeles Times, who calls O'Connor "one of the seminal influences on 1990s confessional pop music," adds: "It's so soothing -- and less confrontational."
The way O'Connor sees it, her latest album contains answers to the prayers she posed in earlier works. In particular, "Petit Poulet," a nursery-rhyme song written in response to the plight of children in Rwanda, sums up what she calls the "joyous and hopeful" mood of her latest collection -- and her life. "These songs are responsible for bringing these feelings into my life."
The pause that refreshes
The four-year break she took from the harsh glare of the spotlight just prior to the album's release last spring also seemed to help. During that time, O'Connor not only gave birth to a baby daughter, Roisin, now 18 months (her son Jake is 10) she also reportedly began intensive therapy to deal with her anger, and enrolled in college courses on Irish and Caribbean studies.
According to music critics who have reviewed "Gospel Oaks," the singer's renewed interest in her native Ireland is very much in evidence in songs like "He Moved Through the Fair," a traditional Irish tune, and "This is a Rebel Song," a tale of a woman and her abusive lover that symbolizes the relationship between Ireland and England. On a more personal level also, O'Connor seems ready to give Ireland another chance.
"Ireland can be a very old-fashioned place, and it can be difficult to be a female, to get out of the box that you're expected to be in if you're an Irish female." But she's considering moving back there anyway -- for her children's sake."England's going through a real sort of (rash) of child murders," she says, adding that for all its problems, Ireland "is really a safe place for children ... we don't tend to murder children in the streets."
Needling the church
O'Connor's outspoken criticsm of aspects of the Catholic Church, which she believed helped perpetuate the silence surrounding child abuse, gained considerable public credibility in 1994, when a cover-up concerning sexual abuse of children by clergy members in Northern Ireland came to light, according to the Guardian Weekend newspaper.
The scandal triggered an intensive period of soul-searching within the Irish Catholic church, after which the singer appeared to soften her stance against the institution. "There is certainly still a lot of healing to be done, but I think once it's done, certainly in Ireland, there's a lot the church can be very proud of," she says, adding: "I think more highly of them, now that they've had the courage to face the grief."
Still, O'Connor remains unrepentant about her 1992 performance on "Saturday Night Live" during which she ripped up a picture of the Pope. The incident, which she describes as "an artistic gesture done in order to create conversation," reflected things she felt strongly about at the time. A similar moment "is not likely to arrive again, but I'm proud I did it."
O'Connor paid dearly for her actions, getting mocked in the press and booed off the stage during a Bob Dylan tribute concert a few weeks later. But she offered this rather orthodox interpretation of the public backlash: "That's what we learn from Christianity ... You stand up for what you believe in, even when you know you're going to get crucified for it."
Divided opinion
This attitude strikes some as the words of a wannabe martyr: "I think she comes across as being so out there on the fringe that ... the things she does don't really strike a nerve one way or another," The Edge's Hoffman said. "Her star power is very limited."
But others, including Hoffman's colleague, Freddy Snakeskin, who is a DJ and music director at The Edge, believe that O'Connor's tendency to subordinate her public image to her real feelings is what sets her apart from the corporate mainstream. "I've always had a certain amount of respect for her, because I'm a fan of independent thinking," Snakeskin said.
Flanagan agreed. "She's a real artist and I don't think there are many real artists out there making music," he said, comparing her to John Lennon. "The music is a by-product of the same thing in their personalities that has them out there getting into people's faces and challenging political correctness.
"Look at Lennon. Lennon just drove people crazy. But that's ultimately what people love."
Keeping to herself
Her newfound peace notwithstanding, O'Connor still has an edge that surfaces -- understandably -- when she's questioned about more personal issues, like her once-public anger over her childhood abuse. "I guess I'm through thinking the public arena is the place to talk about it," she says. "I just feel the public arena is not the appropriate place to talk about things in such a personal way, because it's like sticking your head in the lion's mouth.
"At the end of the day, you and your readers don't really care about me, so why should I discuss it?"
O'Connor also denies that some of her more controversial actions have prefaced low points in her career.
"I wouldn't say I've had one, but I'm sure lots of other people would have many suggestions as to what the low point in my career would be. It's not for them to say, what's high or low. I've achieved what I've set out to achieve: spiritual growth."
She adds: "For all the media's lowly impression they've given of me, I actually have a lot of support in America and my records are quite popular. My behavior is not a factor in my career."
Controversy vs. career
Flanagan supports this assertion, pointing out that the level of popularity O'Connor experienced in the early '90s in the wake of her release of Prince's single "Nothing Compares 2 U," is a "once-in-a-lifetime type thing" for most artists. When performers rebound from a period like that to a more steady, realistic level of sales, as they inevitably do, "people perceive it as 'Oh they've really fallen through,' but that's not necessarily what's happened."
The L.A. Times' Hilburn adds that artists like O'Connor do risk jeopardizing their record sales when they do things that are perceived as outrageous: "A lot of times, image can interfere with artistry."
But, like many other fans, Hilburn believes that O'Connor is such an important musical legacy to a generation, she'll easily transcend the highs and lows of her career: "It's hard to be a serious songwriter of the '90s -- male or female -- and not to have been touched by Sinead's music," he says.
"She's one of the really important figures of modern popular music."
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