VH1 
	    The Wire 
             
            
            Sinead O'Connor 
            Faith and Courage 
            Atlantic 
             
            "I have a universe inside me/ Where I can go and spirit guides me/ 
            There I can ask oh any question/ I get the answers if I listen," 
            sings Sinead O'Connor in the opening track, "The Healing Room." 
            (Click here to hear a clip from the song.) And clearly, O'Connor has 
            been listening carefully. Where there was once anger, there's now 
            kindness. In place of rage, there's thoughtfulness. No less 
            challenging in her life views, O'Connor has somehow softened, become 
            less didactic and more communal. She's grown into the type of woman 
            whom, rather than cross the street when you see her coming, you want 
            to invite out for a pint with the hope of a glimpse into her 
            tumultuous wisdom. 
            O'Connor has never been afraid to face her pain and her anger 
            head-on. While many may cower or glower at such magnitude, she has 
            the openness of heart to stay with her emotions and to channel her 
            passage into her music. Yet not since I Do Not Want What I Haven't 
            Got has she been able to blend sorrow, bliss, and a catchy tune so 
            effectively.
            The honest assessment of her life from frustrated Dublin girl to 
            self-actualized rock star mom in "Daddy I'm Fine," with its dreamy 
            reggae verses and punked-out choruses, signals that O'Connor, in her 
            tenderness, is as kick-ass as ever. "What Doesn't Belong to Me," 
            with potent lines such as "Take back the hatred you gave me for me/ 
            Take back the anger that nearly killed me," could easily have been a 
            temper tantrum on a previous album. Here O'Connor elevates it to a 
            hymn of peace and transformation. And the first single, "No Man's 
            Woman," (Click here to hear the full song) is a rite of passage into 
            the kind of femininity which most people don't recognize: not angry, 
            not aiming for the glass ceiling, not subservient, rather content in 
            her own skin, and willing to rely on her own inner spirit.
            Listening to O'Connor's voice is like taking a fast trip to heaven. 
            Every bit as flexible as it was during her more bombastic days, it 
            has strengthened and quieted with her, reflecting the feminine 
            paradox she embodies so well on this album: the power of 
            vulnerability.
            Ten of the 13 songs were written or co-written by O'Connor, and the 
            album reflects a melting pot of influences from rock to electronica 
            to folk to hip-hop to reggae - all with her homeland Irish folk 
            whistle winding throughout. Collaborators include Dave Stewart 
            (Eurythmics), Wyclef Jean (Fugees), Brian Eno, Jah Wobble (Public 
            Image Ltd.), Adrian Sherwood, Skip McDonald, Scott Cutler and Anne 
            Preven (who penned Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn"), and She'kspere. 
            Somehow this wild juxtaposition of cultures creates an incredibly 
            focused, cohesive, and magical experience by taking her pain and 
            transforming it into fiercely graceful beauty. 
            The 19th-century Hindu Swami Vivekananda wrote of the dark goddess 
            Kali, "Who dares misery love/ And hug the form of death/ Dance in 
            destruction's dance/ To her the mother comes." Fortunately, for 
            those of us less inclined to meet life so fully, O'Connor has no 
            such fear. May her dance be joyful and long.
            
            JANE RATCLIFFE