To listen to Sinead O’Connor’s ninth and latest album is to delve into a bundle of biographies, to flip through a photo album and catch brief glimpses into the multifarious lives of 10 different people. The 10 songs on How About I Be Me (And You Be You)? thrum with the joy and the sorrow of creation itself.
O’Connor writes without artifice in a good way, conjuring stories that range from the rosy aspirations of a bride-to-be to the quandary of a mother dealing with the guilt of conceiving a child from a one night stand. She speaks throughout in direct, unassuming language that bolsters her ethos as an honest storyteller. “Reason With Me,” the breathy, piano-driven story of a not-yet-recovering junkie, begins with some characteristic straight shooting: “Hello, you don’t know me/ But I stole your laptop/ And I took your TV.”
Some of her best writing comes through in “Queen of Denmark,” which offers about as many one-liners as there are pubs in Dublin. The character admits she does not know what to want from the world. Evidently, she responds to the uncertainty with cleverness: “I casually mention that I pissed in your coffee/ I hope you know that all I want from you is sex/ To be with someone who looks smashing in athletic wear…”
O’Connor’s voice drives home her writing with teeming energy. She masters the transition from more subdued, even conversational delivery to soaring vocal leaps and roars that exemplify the best of the Irish balladeer tradition. When she really lets loose, she commands your attention. The orchestration backs her up with bouncing layers of guitar buzz and efficient drumming.
O’Connor has made a name for herself as an outspoken critic of Catholic sexual abuse scandals, famously tearing up a picture the Pope on Saturday Night Live, but her music explores Christian virtues thoughtfully, not angrily. She closes the album with the searing “V.I.P.,” on which she describes Jesus in stark contrast with the alluring materialist detritus of celebrity worship over a bed of muted strings: “There’ll be no makeup and there’ll be no film crews/ No Vuitton bags or Manolo shoes/ When He’s presiding over you/ Asking you did you love only you?”
O’Connor guides her listeners through a bustling garden of human endeavor, at times ecstatic, at others tragic. Ultimately, she’s challenging us to reconsider what sort of life we want to live.
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