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Cover story
Sinead O'Connor who has just donated a track to the Omagh fund CD. Sinead O'Connor celebrated her 32nd birthday last week and has just donated a track to the Omagh Fund CD. She talks about her children, the priesthood, Bill Clinton, the Nobel Peace Prize, the Pope's poems ... and sex.
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY
BY B P FALLON.

Sometimes I feel like a husband", says Sinead O'Connor as we pull up outside her house like a husband? "Yeah. I'll come home from working, like I'm doing right now, and I'll go in and be told what happened during the day, with the kids and stuff".
And sure enough she goes in and Helen the Irish nanny is telling Sinead how Roisin threw up, how she still seems to have that tummy bug, and Anje the German mother's help is telling Sinead how Jake has been talking non-stop about rollerblading, been trying to explain the finer points of his passion. And Jake is hugging his Mum, and Roisin is speeding towards the pair of them, her little feet pitter-pattering excitedly towards her destination.
Sinead, one arm still around Jake, she picks up Roisin and the three of them embrace. "Mum", says Jake, "is it all right if I go rollerblading on Saturday?" and Roisin, she dribbles all over her mother's right ear.
It's about 7.30 in the evening.
Earlier, you'd gone to see Sinead in the studio where she was filming the video for 'Chiquitita' the song written by Abba that Sinead has recorded and donated to the 'Across The Bridge of Hope' CD, to raise money for the victims of the Omagh bombing monstrosity. Sinead's been working all day and as you walk in there she is, surrounded by a camera crew and all the paraphrenalia of the propagation of pop. In the middle of all this, more clamour than glamour, Sinead is calmly washing up cups, drying them and plonking them down on the sink. Ah, typical. You make to go over to Sinead to say hi, but someone grabs your arm gently. Only then do you realise it's all part of the shoot. Sinead washes up another cup.
After a few hours of this, the video is completed. Sinead rings home. "Jake, is Roisin still up? Can you ask if she can stay up a little while, so I can play with her before she goes to bed?" In the car on the way home Sinead says she is wrecked, that she doesn't think she'll go out tonight after all.
Several hours later, children all tucked up, Sinead and you are in a cab and she's giggling and singing "So you ask Joyce and Vicky if candyfloss is sticky ..." her face more cheeky than a monkey. You're dragging her out to see Ian Dury and she's all excited at meeting this hero of hers, rabbitting on about how she loved lan's classic LP 'New Boots and Panties'.
At Ian's house, Sinead is quiet, the little girl shy. Ian is talking about how he has to go in for chemotherapy tomorrow, how he's starting a new course to battle his cancer. Ian too is quiet, watched by his adoring Sophie. Ian, he brings us into another room to show us his two young kids asleep, then perks up, talking about his recent visit to Sri Lanka for UN1CEF.
Ian, you understand, contracted polio when he was 7 and he's an ambassador for UNICEF in their polio immunisation programme. Robbie Williams accompanied him to Sri Lanka. "Oooh," says Sinead brightening up, "I really fancy him! Will you tell him?" "I will", says Ian chortling, before giving the two visitors a couple of cassettes each: 'Merry Memphis' a collection of soul tracks compiled by Ian, and 'Perry Xmas', Ian's collection of rockin' Rasta reggae featuring that eccentric genius Lee Perry.
On the way home, Sinead is reflective. "Ian Dury! I can't believe I met Ian Dury ... He's very, very brave, isn't he?".
Sinead O'Connor lives in a gated estate in North London. It's beautiful, almost like being in the country. Her son Jake, who looks like the boychild Elvis, is 11. Jake's father, the drummer, producer and songwriter John Reynolds, lives in Notting Hill Gate. Sinead's daughter Roisin, all huge eyes and even longer eyelashes than her mother, is two and a half.
Roisin's father John Waters, the writer, he lives in Dublin and is planning to move to London.
And meanwhile in North London ... well, Sinead, you work very hard, don't you?
"Yes, I do. I'm a working single mother although both my children's fathers are extremely involved in their lives. And I'm lucky enough to have Helen and Anje to help too.
Most mornings Sinead gets up at 7 to get Jake ready for school. "The cab comes for him at a quarter to eight, or sometimes we go together on the bikes. And then I do whatever I have to do, go through the post, pay bills ... Roisin gets up at half eight, then she goes off to nursery at a quarter past nine till quarter past 12. I usually bring her, or if I have to go to work, Helen brings her. If I've got work to do, I listen to tapes, work on the songs, write the words, clean up my bedroom ...".
"I go to therapy five days a week, I have been going for three years."
Because of your childhood, is it? Sinead nods. She doesn't want to talk about this part of her life, her battered youth where she was bullied and bashed and beaten and abused by a sadistic sick mother who she still loves. Same ground. Same stuff. Same shit reappearing. Hell, it's genuinely appalling beyond comprehension. It won't go away and people keep asking her about it. It's getting better, thank God. God thank God.
Suffice to say, Sinead was 8 when her mother and father split up in 1975. At 13, she ran away to live with her father. At 17, her mother was killed in a car crash. That was in February 1985. Six months later Sinead moved to London. "I knew I didn't want to stay in Dublin singing 'Summertime' for the rest of my life...". Sinead puts her hand into the plastic sack and grabs more coal for the fire, wiping her delicate face so that unthinkingly she looks like a little blackened urchin. She's whispering so quietly it's hard to hear her. "I miss my mother and I wish she was here. I was brought up in a Catholic country and I always understood the concept of hating the sins, not the sinner." Let's change the subject.
We're in Dublin now at the Shelbourne Hotel. Why are we here, Sinead?
My father and my stepmother reaffirmed their marriage vows today, in Rathgar at the Church of Scotland. It was very moving and healing. My father cried, and so did I."
Sinead's mother and father had four children: Joseph, Eimer, Sinead and John. Viola had three daughters from another relationship. Sinead's father John O'Connor and Viola got married in Washington in 1975 and they had a son, Owen. When they got married, divorce was not legal in Ireland. "They had to get their divorces in Haiti", said Sinead, singing "This is my Haitian divorce."
Sinead's father left school at 14, became a teaboy in an engineer's office. His father was a carpenter, his mother a butcher, and he was one of 12 or 14 children. When he was older he went to college and became a very successful consultant engineer
And then got involved in the struggle for people's right to a second chance. At 40, he gave up his engineering practice to study law so he could know what he was talking about. "That's why he's my hero", says Sinead. "It's pretty impressive when you've got eight children to look after, to take that risk, to become a barrister."
Sinead's father became founder and chairperson of The Divorce Action Group. "He's availing of his own work today", smiles Sinead.
A few floors down, John and Viola and the other 7 children are celebrating. Where we are, Sinead has hired a room so we can do this interview. She is wearing a smart dark suit of jacket and trousers, what she calls, 'my lesbian look' and some sexy underwear; 'just in case". Urn, Sinead, what do you do?
"I am a healer through singing. I also work as a sensitive, I've been training since I was 18 though more intensely in the last two years. It used to be called being a medium, a healer working through light energy." The programme from the school she attends in London, The College of Psychic Studies,its preface reads: "We seek to promote spiritual value and a greater understanding of spiritual consciousness ..." and lists courses such as 'Healing Beginners' and 'Training the Psychic Faculty'. "No", says Sinead. "I haven't asked my mother to come through. I do believe she's around all the time anyway, but I'm not in it for that. Anyway" she says, "let's talk about the Omagh record. That's why we're doing this, isn't it?"
She heard about the bomb when she was in France. She was appalled, sickened.
"I remember this woman whose son had begged to go out shopping, he was only nine and he'd never been anywhere on his own. He wasn't going, except his friends called for him and he begged her and begged her some more so she said okay, off you go and he was killed. An incredible nightmare. So I cried buckets over that.
"I've always loved that song 'Chiquitita', Abba wrote it for UNICEF. The song is a person talking to a young adolescent, a young 12, or 13, trying to encourage her even though terrible stuff has happened to her. One of the lines is 'You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end, you will have no time for grieving ..."
She pauses, blurts out: "Sorry ..." she sits there, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. "Sorry", she says again. "I'm sorry ...". Your heart goes out to her. Oh Sinead. She gathers herself.
The chorus, it goes "Chiquitita, you and I cry but the sun is still in the sky, shining above you", sentiments reflected in Sinead's own gorgeous song 'Petit Poulet' from her 'Gospel Oak' EP. So the song's about you too, then?
in Omagh when the bomb went off and she immediately stood there among the smoke and the ruins and sung her song 'Broken Things'. That's heavy duty, isn't it"?
The talk turns to heroes, like her father and her older brother and her younger brother and her sister Eimer and Bob Dylan and Van Morrison and Bob Marley and Ian Dury and Noirin Ni Riain. "She's an Irishwoman, she does all this ancient Irish religious music, she's a real Goddessy character". Another Sinead O'Connor hero is Bill Clinton.
"He's the sexiest man in the universe!" The eyes that a minute ago were crying light up as she repeats like a mantra "He's the sexiest man in the universe!".
Would you do it with him?
"Yeah!"
The eyes are like sparklets. "You bet! I'd bring my own cigars! Absolutely! My mouth is watering at the thought of it! I thought he was sexy anyway, but now ... my God!" The eyes go huge, a great grin planting itself on that beautiful face.
Sinead, she has sung twice at the Nobel Peace Prize - first when Yitzhak Rabin, Shimon Peres, and Yasser Arafat, were given the accolade and last year when Princess Diana's anti-minefields initiative was honoured - but she has turned down the invitation to appear a third time because "They should have given it to just John Hume or John Hume and David Trimble and Gerry Adams. I'm completely against violence, but everyone is redeemable and Gerry Adams has taken as many risks as David Trimble."
She's also been invited to participate in a CD of the Pope's Poems set to music. "The story, according lo the London Times, is that the Vatican had been given a list and they approved me. I'll do it if the poems are any good ..."She smiles beatifically.
In her library at home, Sinead has books titled 'Jesus' and 'Christ' as well as 'The Art of Sexual Ecstasy'. Is the last one, any good? "Ah, it's a bit complicated." Big Sinead grin. "You have to spend days not shagging, you have to touch each other and all, which is fine if you're not working or bringing up children. Give me a quickie any time!" Even bigger Sinead grin. "I like my Goddess books. What about another book you have, 'The Guide to Sexual Fulfillment'? "You don't have to read books, just practice, practice, practice!".
She has books about Ireland as well as 'The Book of Irish Erotic Art.' When you open it the pages are completely blank! As well as many Goddess books, there are tons of bibles "because I collect Bibles and Mary statues."
"I'm big into the Goddess. 1 was born on 8th December -I was due on Christmas Day, and I like to think 1 deliberately chose the Goddess Day because the 8th December is The Feast of The Immaculate Conception which is a big Mary day. I've always been interested in Paganism or the worship of God as the mother. That's why The Church doesn't want priests marrying because then God would be a woman too. And if there were woman priests, they'd be called Priestesses and the Church's whole mission in life is to cover up the existence of The Goddess. And my mission in life is to reveal the Goddess in myself."
"If I wasn't a singer I would like to be a beautician. Actually," she volunteers, "what I'd like to be is a priest. I always wanted to sing, because I discovered very early that singing could soothe the savage beast. The woman that does not lose her mind has no mind to lose. And St Augustine said 'Anger is the first step towards courage.' It's a compassionate job, singing, and because a woman isn't allowed to be a priest, I wanted to do something for myself, something that I considered to be in religious service. I didn't want to be a nun because I was interested in sex. In fact, I used to pray to God to make me not want to be a nun, I was that worried! 'Dear God, please don't make me a nun.'" She's laughing now.
"I had my first kiss when I was 8. My father took us down to Galway and I forced a boy to kiss me.
I don't know how this happened but his trousers ended up coming off ..." Sinead is screaming with laughter, knocking over the little tape recorder which is perched on an upturned wastepaper basket ...and I don't know why because I didn't know anything about sex at that age!".
"My father had taken us to The Bridge House Hotel beside a fast-moving river - that's symbolic - and this boy's trousers fell off and fell into the river and I went in after them. My father luckily swung by in the car - he'd been out otherwise none of this would be happening - and he rescued me from drowning. So that was my first kiss!" Did it put you off?
"No, not at all. I like kissing. I've always liked kissing. It's nice."
"I guess my first proper boyfriend was around 11. I used to help this guy babysitting, in Dalkey. I had a little padded bra with dots on it and I remember thinking I was great getting my boobs out and making him feel them. I quite enjoyed corrupting boys, well, not corrupting them, but introducing them to the joys of sex."
"I was about 13 at school in Sion Hill, which we called Pill Hill, when I had my first proper boyfriend. He was the first guy I let finger me. I'm going to be killed for this!" Sinead screeches with laughter again and once more the tape recorder crashes to the floor. "Remember we got letters last time we did an interview, that time in New York, people writing and giving out and saying I was a ..." She puts on a cod Paddier-than-thou accent, enunciating every syllable ... "a dir-ty whore!".
When you ring up Sinead in London her voice on the answer machine says: "Say something that'll get me hot!"
"I'm 32, entering my prime," Sinead grins gleefully. "Lock up your sons!"
"Growing up in Ireland, we were taught that sex was dirty. Sex is where all life comes from and a baby is the closest representation to God. And d'you think you're mad for sex then, Sinead?
"Yeah. Not like with everyone and anyone, but yeah, I like lovemaking". She grabs the tape recorder, says into it "It's very important when BP is writing about me discussing my sexuality that the whole thing is I wanted to overcome my mother murdering my sexuality. Like a Phoenix I will rise ..."
She replaces the machine. So are you single now, Sinead? "Yes, I am single."
She grabs the tape recorder again, sticks it to her mouth. "Its very important BP remembers I said I like to make love with friends so I'm not running around like a who' having it off with total strangers because I have a couple of loving friends I can call on."
Sinead, are you a bad girl? "I hope so. But... mmmm, I'm ruthlessly compassionate, I hope, although I don't always get it right."
She's laughing again now, those magic eyes twinkling with delicious divilment.
"I've been a very bad girl and I deserve a good spanking!" Click.
It's a week later and we're back in London now. Sinead's at the Church studios in Crouch Hill, working with Dave Stewart on her next album. Dave, he's just wonderful, a true gas of a man. It's hard to describe him without making it seem some sickly symphony of praise, but... well, he's so warm, so funny, so sharp, so multi-talented."
Upstairs in an even bigger studio, empty at the moment apart from a grand piano and Dave's photographic equipment, on one huge wall there's a flock of gold and platinum records, the biggest gathered collection from one artist that you've EVER seen, testifying to his work with Eurythmics. Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Bob Geldof, Mick Jagger...
Downstairs, as Sinead sings some vocals alongside the Jamaican reggae artist Little Roy. Dave manages to wield a guitar and work on his laptop computer at the same time, plucking out notes and somehow simultaneously designing a Christmas invitation card.
You get to talking about respect, about pride and you find yourself quoting from the old Coasters record "Shopping for Clothes' where the guy says, "Stand in the mirror and dig yourself!". "Let's you and I make a record using that as a sample!" Dave bounces at you, and before you can respond, he's given you his idea for the video too.
Sinead sings on, the music sounding brilliant There's a break for ten minutes. "Let's write another song then," says Dave. They do. boom, just like that. You'd nearly be jealous.
Later that evening you're at Sinead's house, vaguely gazing at the television as you trance out on the couch and the candles flicker inside little glass flowers. Smoke's escaping from the fire, but it doesn't matter. Sinead keeps changing shape, from a little girl to a little boy, to a gorgeous woman to a little old dear, some eccentric bag lady, granny grinning.
If you loved these people any more you'd be in love with them. You're knocked down, knocked over, knocked out.
Sinead, she's hugging this yellowing blanket around her and you grab a bit of it too. This blanket, it's a substitute for the original one she had as a kid, but it feels the same as the old one. It's hard, scratchy. "That's why I like men with stubble", Sinead says. This blanket, she brings it on the road with her, everything.
"Sometimes," says Sinead, I've left it behind in some hotel room and had to have it Fedexed to where I was."
For some reason or other, that you can't quite figure, you wish you hadn't shaved.
The Omagh Fund Album 'Across The Bridge of Hope' featuring 'Chiquitita' by Sinead O'Connor and tracks from Van Morrison, Liam Neeson, Boyzne, U2, Enya, Ash, Daniel O'Donnell, The Corrs, The Juliette Turner song 'Broken Things' is available now on White Records via Sony.

Publisher: IRISH INDEPENDENT

Ref: II/165

Published Date: 12-Dec-98