The San Francisco Chronicle
JUNE 5, 1990, TUESDAY, FINAL EDITION

Sinead O'Connor's Serious About Her Rock

Joel Selvin, Chronicle Staff Critic


   An obscure gem of a song written by Prince, an agonized, soulful vocal
performance and a solitary tear shed during the making of the video and suddenly
Sinead O'Connor is the hottest talent on the music scene.

    Both her wrenching version of Prince's ''Nothing Compares 2 U'' and her
album, ''I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got,'' scorched up to the top of the
charts within weeks of release. Her face graced the cover of Rolling Stone and
she splashed into the headlines by pulling out of a scheduled appearance on
''Saturday Night Live'' in protest over the humor of guest host Andrew Dice
Clay.

   Her shaved head, allegedly shorn following a suggestion by a record company
executive that she do something more ''girly,'' made her one of the most
memorable faces of the '90s. She has been anointed as the first new star of the
decade.

   AN EXCITED FOLLOWING

   Appearing in two sold-out shows Sunday and last night at the Berkeley
Community Theater, O'Connor attracted the kind of excited, almost hysterical
following that marked her concert as a genuine event on the music scene. She
will follow the relatively intimate performances with a return engagement at the
more massive Greek Theatre in September, but the shows this week will serve as
her Bay Area coming out.

   At age 23, the impassioned Irish pop iconoclast looks like a good bet to
become one of the most persuasive talents of her generation. Her highly personal
compositions read more like diary entries than pop songs. These heartfelt
confessionals cover the gamut of emotional colors, from desolate loneliness to
fiery rage, and she matches the moods with dramatic shifts in her powerful
voice, from a whisper to a scream.

   CRIES OF ANGUISH

   Opening in a hazy crossfire of spotlights, the music oozed behind her, as she
gingerly made her way through ''Feel So Different,'' working up to the climactic
anguished cries. She used her unusually loud voice like a child with a new toy,
gunning down lyrics that could have been more effectively understated and
understating others that consequently got lost in the murmur.

   She made a point of pronouncing certain vocal nuances -- from the clicks of
her tongue against the roof of her mouth to her sharp inhalations between lines
-- as if to share the honest labor of her artistic effort.

   THUMBING HER NOSE

   A lot of her style goes intentionally against the grain. Her rigid anti-show
business stance showed from her refusal to face applause, but walking directly
offstage as soon as she was done singing a song, to her concentration camp
haircut and the untucked T-shirt. Who is she kidding? An anti-fashion statement
is still a statement and a little bit of pretension goes a long way. But she
clearly doesn't want to chance anybody missing that she is an Artist with a
capital A.

   She opens her style up remarkably, able to fit a cappella Irish folk music
next to boombox dance-rock. She even wheeled a tape recorder out onstage to
accompany one song. Her sound ranged from folkish ensemble pieces with her
playing 12-string guitar to full electric rock in high wail. She used various
configurations of a five-piece band that included the inestimable services of
keyboardist-guitarist-vocalist Suzie Davis, formerly of the Bay Area.

   It was a tour de force performance of a style so highly personal that the
components could have only been assembled by one individual imagination. No
committee at some record label could have contrived this model. She is dealing
with some highly potent, powerful forces.

   And when the elements come together, she is as bright as a flash of
lightning, as forbidding as a clap of thunder and as refreshing as a rainstorm.
If she ever pulls them together for a sustained length of time, watch out.