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All the Sadness in the World
I first heard of the Irish singer Dolores O’Riordan as a college freshman when CJ, a classmate who adores all kinds of music, particularly female pop artists, made a mixtape for me of the alternative rock band The Cranberries.
CJ recorded for me “Linger,” “Dreams” and some choice tracks from their “No Need to Argue” album, including “I Can’t Be with You,” “Empty” and “Ridiculous Thoughts.” The latter also featured young actor Elijah Wood on MTV.
At the time, alternative music dominated both radio and TV, giving us more choices besides the clichéd popular tunes.
It was a great time to be alive: alternative music straddling both pop and rock were in, both here and abroad. But more than anything, alternative music simply meant a different sound. Different meant new. Different meant fresh.
I first heard “Linger” on DWEB-FM, the local rock station where I would find myself working as a DJ years later. It's a slow tune lamenting the infidelity of one’s beloved. I liked its unhurried rhythm; the song makes you take it easy and imagine lazy afternoons.
But I think it is O’Riordan’s keening voice that makes the song last. Her background vocals sounds sadder than the deep, sad voice singing the lyrics, which makes it more appealing.
It is her grieving voice that makes it worth listening to. Besides this, I suppose it’s the repetitive “Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” that really makes the song “linger.”
Listening to the radio, it was also hard for me to resist humming along with her singing “Dreams,” especially the last part, which stands out even with the African background vocals and instruments: Laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa; laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa; laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa:” These are the parts that would last in your head.
Through my equally fanatic cousin Jokoy, I learned more about the Cranberries: O’Riordan, the Hogan brothers and Fergal Lawler. The band projected restrained, generally discontented youth minus the sloppy outfits of the grunge artists. I found their packaging consistent with their music, particularly Dolores’s vocals, not only “linger”-ing but poignant and especially affecting.
Two years later, I would publish a review of their “To the Faithful Departed” album for the short-lived Bikol Daily.
Writing the review in 1996, I was drawn not to the more popular hits “When You’re Gone” or “Free to Decide” but rather to the more elegiac “Joe” and “Cordell,” tributes to the countless nameless victims of the much-publicized Bosnian war in Bosnia-Herzegovina (Sarajevo) in the mid-1990s.
To understand the voice of O’Riordan and the band Cranberries is to understand where the group are coming from. They have lived in a war-worn Ireland which normally inspires artists to harp not anymore on the personal issues but also the more serious, bigger themes like war and death. Departing from the hackneyed themes of love, their songs advocate something bigger than the self.
The lyrics of “Free to Decide” speak of a person's right to expression or freedom of choice, while “Zombie” immortalizes the tragedy of war, lamenting that: “It’s the same old theme, since 1916. In your head, in your head, they’re still fighting… in your head, in your head, they are dying…”
Then, watching “Animal Instinct” in 2003, an upbeat piece featuring her beautiful, more mature voice which now sounded almost like Karen Carpenter’s, I was drawn to the music video depicting a mother’s separation from her children and the her innate nature to protect them.
If at all, O’Riordan was one of the influences predating the "emo" generation; her voice is predominantly sad, what with all the songs she made popular with The Cranberries. If not about broken relationships or deaths in war-torn Europe, their music, , especially her voice, laments all the sadness in the world.
I must have even typecast her and the band as “sad-sounding singers” especially when later, more positive pieces like “Analyse” or “Just My Imagination” came out in early 2000s. Not only that I could hardly relate to their happier expressions; I now found her cheerful voice hardly believable. Despite the happier tune it had, her voice was always sad to me.
Nevertheless, it amazes me how Dolores O’Riordan’s voice has become iconic, probably cutting across social classes. I think “Zombie,” “Ode to My Family” and their early hits “Linger” and “Dreams” enjoyed much airplay over the local FM radio, so that they became anthems of probably most listeners.
Consider the song “Zombie,” which, like “Ode to My Family” or “When You’re Gone,” is now a staple song in any videoke songs list or probably any local karaoke bar, with its signature yodelling, “eehh eehh eehh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh eeehh aahh aahh aahh.”
With all these pieces, it would be hard to forget so much sadness in ourselves and in the world. O’Riordan’s voice sings our restrained, sad selves; her voice is primarily ours, not only belaboring all its maladies, but also grieving life’s tragedies.
Even her first name, “Dolores,” comes to me now as consistent with her voice. It comes from the word “Dolor,” meaning “painful grief”; the word dolorous as an adjective also means “showing sorrow”. So there: her name and her voice are one and the same.
However, what is appealing in Dolores O'Riordan and The Cranberries is how they have turned bitter personal and social experiences into beautiful anthems not only of death and loss but also of healing, of life and gain.
Her beautiful voice is grieving but it also evokes hope and the capacity to move on.
The news of her death doubtless surprised me, but it only rather made me think that the songs, which strike a chord in most of us who grew up in the 90s, will linger even after she’s gone.
Her songs—I mean, her voice—will remind me of the sadness of life, but also of the necessity of grief, which I suppose can help me weather the tragedies of life.
#ripdolores
#doloresoriordan
#cranberries
I first heard of the Irish singer Dolores O’Riordan as a college freshman when CJ, a classmate who adores all kinds of music, particularly female pop artists, made a mixtape for me of the alternative rock band The Cranberries.
CJ recorded for me “Linger,” “Dreams” and some choice tracks from their “No Need to Argue” album, including “I Can’t Be with You,” “Empty” and “Ridiculous Thoughts.” The latter also featured young actor Elijah Wood on MTV.
At the time, alternative music dominated both radio and TV, giving us more choices besides the clichéd popular tunes.
It was a great time to be alive: alternative music straddling both pop and rock were in, both here and abroad. But more than anything, alternative music simply meant a different sound. Different meant new. Different meant fresh.
I first heard “Linger” on DWEB-FM, the local rock station where I would find myself working as a DJ years later. It's a slow tune lamenting the infidelity of one’s beloved. I liked its unhurried rhythm; the song makes you take it easy and imagine lazy afternoons.
But I think it is O’Riordan’s keening voice that makes the song last. Her background vocals sounds sadder than the deep, sad voice singing the lyrics, which makes it more appealing.
It is her grieving voice that makes it worth listening to. Besides this, I suppose it’s the repetitive “Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” that really makes the song “linger.”
Listening to the radio, it was also hard for me to resist humming along with her singing “Dreams,” especially the last part, which stands out even with the African background vocals and instruments: Laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa; laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa; laaaaaa laaaaa la la la laaaa laaaaaa:” These are the parts that would last in your head.
Through my equally fanatic cousin Jokoy, I learned more about the Cranberries: O’Riordan, the Hogan brothers and Fergal Lawler. The band projected restrained, generally discontented youth minus the sloppy outfits of the grunge artists. I found their packaging consistent with their music, particularly Dolores’s vocals, not only “linger”-ing but poignant and especially affecting.
Two years later, I would publish a review of their “To the Faithful Departed” album for the short-lived Bikol Daily.
Writing the review in 1996, I was drawn not to the more popular hits “When You’re Gone” or “Free to Decide” but rather to the more elegiac “Joe” and “Cordell,” tributes to the countless nameless victims of the much-publicized Bosnian war in Bosnia-Herzegovina (Sarajevo) in the mid-1990s.
To understand the voice of O’Riordan and the band Cranberries is to understand where the group are coming from. They have lived in a war-worn Ireland which normally inspires artists to harp not anymore on the personal issues but also the more serious, bigger themes like war and death. Departing from the hackneyed themes of love, their songs advocate something bigger than the self.
The lyrics of “Free to Decide” speak of a person's right to expression or freedom of choice, while “Zombie” immortalizes the tragedy of war, lamenting that: “It’s the same old theme, since 1916. In your head, in your head, they’re still fighting… in your head, in your head, they are dying…”
Then, watching “Animal Instinct” in 2003, an upbeat piece featuring her beautiful, more mature voice which now sounded almost like Karen Carpenter’s, I was drawn to the music video depicting a mother’s separation from her children and the her innate nature to protect them.
If at all, O’Riordan was one of the influences predating the "emo" generation; her voice is predominantly sad, what with all the songs she made popular with The Cranberries. If not about broken relationships or deaths in war-torn Europe, their music, , especially her voice, laments all the sadness in the world.
I must have even typecast her and the band as “sad-sounding singers” especially when later, more positive pieces like “Analyse” or “Just My Imagination” came out in early 2000s. Not only that I could hardly relate to their happier expressions; I now found her cheerful voice hardly believable. Despite the happier tune it had, her voice was always sad to me.
Nevertheless, it amazes me how Dolores O’Riordan’s voice has become iconic, probably cutting across social classes. I think “Zombie,” “Ode to My Family” and their early hits “Linger” and “Dreams” enjoyed much airplay over the local FM radio, so that they became anthems of probably most listeners.
Consider the song “Zombie,” which, like “Ode to My Family” or “When You’re Gone,” is now a staple song in any videoke songs list or probably any local karaoke bar, with its signature yodelling, “eehh eehh eehh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh ooohh eeehh aahh aahh aahh.”
With all these pieces, it would be hard to forget so much sadness in ourselves and in the world. O’Riordan’s voice sings our restrained, sad selves; her voice is primarily ours, not only belaboring all its maladies, but also grieving life’s tragedies.
Even her first name, “Dolores,” comes to me now as consistent with her voice. It comes from the word “Dolor,” meaning “painful grief”; the word dolorous as an adjective also means “showing sorrow”. So there: her name and her voice are one and the same.
However, what is appealing in Dolores O'Riordan and The Cranberries is how they have turned bitter personal and social experiences into beautiful anthems not only of death and loss but also of healing, of life and gain.
Her beautiful voice is grieving but it also evokes hope and the capacity to move on.
The news of her death doubtless surprised me, but it only rather made me think that the songs, which strike a chord in most of us who grew up in the 90s, will linger even after she’s gone.
Her songs—I mean, her voice—will remind me of the sadness of life, but also of the necessity of grief, which I suppose can help me weather the tragedies of life.
#ripdolores
#doloresoriordan
#cranberries
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