By Simon Warburton
Image courtesy of Mutinka, Pixabay.
So here we go. Despite the word blog now having something of an old-fashioned feel (really, already?), this is the first of what I hope will be many blogs detailing my meanderings and musings. Differing opinions more than welcome, trolls, no thanks.
Sinéad O’Connor
I was very struck by the recent and tragic death of Sinéad O’Connor, a troubled, tortured soul whose personal life was marked by so much pain and tragedy.
But thinking about Sinéad – and I’m no music expert – took me back 20 years to one sunny, Saturday afternoon in North London where the Fleadh music festival was taking place.
Celebrating all things Irish – I’m half-Irish from my grandparents (who isn’t?!) – the Fleadh was a riotous party from minute one.
And then Sinead stepped on stage.
A slight, almost timid figure, for me, she came replete with baggage, screaming headlines and enough controversy to last a lifetime.
I wasn’t expecting much, I wasn’t really aware of her music, apart from that song and I sort of stood there not really knowing how to react to the Irish songstress.
But then she started to sing and I suddenly stopped being slightly bored, slightly distracted, slightly underwhelmed.
Instead, I became totally and utterly bewitched by what was one of the most extraordinary voices I’ve ever heard.
I just drank it in
Sinéad was quite simply mesmerising. The range and power was clearly there, but there was also the subtlety of her singing which had me rooted to the spot, just staring, drinking it in.
It was the voice of an angel, other-worldly, it didn’t seem to come from anything I’d ever heard before.
And it wasn’t just the voice, it was the raw emotion she put into her music that created a whole package.
I can’t really remember many of the other acts that day. They were, I’m sure all good, but it’s Sinead who’s stayed with me for 20 years.
I’ve got goosebumps thinking of the power of that performance, it’s indelibly stamped on my mind forever.
I will simply never forget it.
