FEATURE:
Feels So Different
Sinéad O'Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got at Thirty-Five
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FOR this feature…
IN THIS PHOTO: Sinead O'Connor performs on Saturday Night Live on 29th September, 1990/PHOTO CREDIT: Alan Singer/NBCU Photo Bank/Getty Images
I am marking the upcoming thirty-fifth anniversary of the late Sinéad O'Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got. The second studio album from the Irish icon, it was released on 20th March, 1990. The album was nominated for four Grammy Awards in 1991, including Record of the Year, Best Female Pop Vocal Performance, and Best Music Video, Short Form for Nothing Compares 2 U. I want to get to some reviews and retrospective features about this phenomenal album. I am starting out with this feature from 2023 that states, on her second studio album, Sinéad O'Connor communicated the truth:
“When Sinéad O’Connor released her second album, I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, in 1990, I was 15. Although too young to really understand it, the album was unlike anything I had ever heard.
Her death on July 26 at 56 brought back those early first impressions. As a teen, this album felt shocking. It left an indelible mark on how I perceived music. Through her voice, I found music could be much more than about love, hate, and relationships strewn across sets of lyrics, a bridge and a chorus. O’Connor was trying to actually say something. What it was I wasn’t sure, but I knew enough to realize she was misunderstood, that her basic freedoms and rights were under attack. Singing was how she communicated her feelings. Her courage in creating such an honest and personal album taught me that it’s OK to speak up even when you think no one is listening, even when others don’t agree.
After years of listening to a broad cross-section of radio hits—groups like Tears For Fears, Wham!, the Pet Shop Boys, Phil Collins, the Beatles; female pop artists like Janet Jackson, Blondie, and Madonna, and “alternative” music like the Clash—O’Connor intrigued me. I was enthralled by her vocals on “I Want Your (Hands On Me)” and the acrobatic way she skewed and bent her words.
She was nothing like her female contemporaries on MTV who were splashed across Teen Beat magazine. Cyndi Lauper was kitschy and colorful and fun. Madonna courted controversy, yes, but made infectious dance and pop hits channeled through provocative images based on sexual desires. Stevie Nicks seemed surrounded by a mystical shroud, while Joan Jett was just one of the guys.
O’Connor shaved her head and wore plain, drab clothes. When she performed, she gesticulated wildly as if possessed. She was not a material girl at all. I needed to know more.
The opening track of I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, “Feel So Different,” set the tone and established her unique, bold style and unabashedly laid out powerful convictions. When I heard her bare voice set against the swirling strings of an orchestra on the opener, I never felt so alone. O’Connor stretched out words like “so” and “different” until hearing it became nearly uncomfortable. Whatever she was going through, it was massive.
As I listened, I began to understand how these songs were highly provocative for the time as well as steeped in Ireland’s history. “I Am Stretched On Your Grave” is based off a 17th century Irish poem “Táim sínte ar do thuama” from this compilation; in the passage “From the Cold Sod That’s O’er You,” the writer never “severs” from the dirt that lays over their loved one. The mental image of a secret tryst over a grave was jarring. Even more so was using a James Brown sample from “Funky Drummer.” The slowed drum pattern enshrouds the song in a darkness and a depth that threatened to bury whoever was singing. As the rain and wind weathered her body away, she stayed. Unearthly collisions of drums and clanging get louder and more insistent, as her body wears down to the bone. The last measures collide noisily with a riot of strings—chaotic and powerful, it goes on endlessly, then is silent.
Conversely, Sinéad O’Connor also created simplicity and quiet on this album. She strummed chords so that every string was heard, and used precious space to let her words breathe and take new shape. It was chilling. She sounded beautiful and ugly and raw at the same time. She whispered words, and sang them as loud as she could. “You Cause As Much Sorrow,” has a melancholic melody with piano and softly plucked acoustic notes that was only slightly brighter than the tone on “Stretched,” but which still left the protagonist tortured.
In “The Last Day of Our Acquaintance,” O’Connor talks in clinical tones about severing ties in a divorce. The tension spills over and explodes into the chorus that echoes, “I’ll talk but you won’t listen to me / I know your answer already.” It shattered me. Now as a mother, I understand “Three Babies” more fully than I did as a clueless teenager. Saying you’ll lay down your life for your child isn’t an outrageous statement—that’s just your job. But singing about gathering your energy from inside, refusing basic nutrients, it sounded radical at first. The song’s meaning remains unclear. The babies’ “cold bodies” hint at miscarriage. Maybe she’s unable to let them rest. These babies were ripped from her for unknown reasons—because the subject was being violent, or was protesting something, and was maybe called a “bad mother.” Much of the lyrics are sung in first person, so it’s difficult to separate the singer from the unknown person in the song. Her first son, Jake, was still quite young when the album was released, and she later had custody battles of her own. Last year, her son, Shane, 17, ended his life, and O’Connor was devastated.
“Nothing Compares 2 U,” penned by Prince, was a worldwide success, but I was more interested in the tunes with global messages that revealed her social activism. On “Black Boys on Mopeds” she unapologetically took her critique to British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. She shattered the image of a proper and good England and replaced it with the reality: that its underlying culture was draped in racism and deceit. She was well aware she would face opposition for stating her beliefs. Her lyrics proved eerily telling: “These are dangerous days / To say what you feel is to dig your own grave.”
On the a cappella title track, she carefully and measured out every whispered word upon a quiet canvas. Walking through an arid hell to reach some enlightenment, she imagines an ocean and a bird. When she discovers the bird is her, it turns worn and faded. But O’Connor is not deterred. “I am not frightened although it’s hot / I have all that I requested / And I do not want what I haven’t got,” O’Connor says plainly.
O’Connor’s death, days before that of Paul Reubens, another misunderstood “outcast” who is being remembered for his unique style of comedy and love for life, is a reminder that the people we should treasure most are sometimes treated the worst.
Sinéad O’Connor bared her soul to us, yet we’ll never really know her pain. Thank you, Sinéad, for the beautiful music you gave us”.
I am going come to this 2020 feature from Albumism. They celebrated thirty years of I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got. It is sad that she cannot see people’s reaction to this album now. O’Connor died in 2023. She left us with one of the most distinct and extraordinary bodies of work in music history:
“There are moments in history that will forever remain unforgettable, no matter the age or generation. Moments that shape an era, a genre or a decade. In January of 1990, an Irish singer by the name of Sinéad O’Connor released a cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 You,” a song deeply rooted in emotion and despair which would go on to certify O’Connor and that song as one of music history’s most unforgettable moments.
O’Connor’s second album I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got was not only home to the aforementioned cover, but it also saw a shift in the singer’s attitude. The torment that prevailed on her debut, 1987’s The Lion And The Cobra, was still there. But like all things, O’Connor’s maturity started to come through on this album, giving way to a kind of hopefulness, rather than outright anger.
Listening to this album again is a walk down memory lane, but also a reminder of the depth and beauty in O’Connor’s music. Whilst this album’s breakout star most certainly was “Nothing Compares 2 You,” it may also be the standard that O’Connor never truly surpassed again on any other subsequent album. The simplicity of the video, which featured O’Connor with her trademarked shaved head, allowed for not only the singer’s beauty to be placed firmly in the spotlight, but more importantly, the emotion that O’Connor conveyed with an unabashed rawness was placed front and center. Very few have been able to achieve this since.
Moving away from the album’s standout hit and it is clear to see that O’Connor’s foot is firmly set in mostly folky types of tracks that make her voice the primary focus of each and every song. The album’s opener is the prayer-like “Feel So Different,” submerged in an initial spoken strength (The Serenity Prayer) that plays on the fact that this could easily be for an old flame, but could equally be an approach to questioning a higher power, something O’Connor has never shied away from.
O’Connor’s approach to religion has been well documented over the years, but as the singer herself stated in a recent interview with Tommy Tiernan, “I have always been interested in theology since I was a kid, because we all grew up in this theocracy and I wanted to know what was this book they were using to oppress my Granny.” O’Connor isn’t afraid to go deep with spirituality, and with this sense of curiosity comes a crossover effect that permeates into and throughout her music. I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got is living proof that just having a great song won’t cut it—the subject matter will always be the core that resonates with people.
At its core, there is no denying that this album is about loss and the conflict associated with love lost and the possibility of conflict with a higher power, whatever that higher power may be —the government, society and yes, even God. The album’s second song “I Am Stretched Out On Your Grave” is a 17th century Irish poem translated to English and covered by O’Connor with an old school hip-hop base that works beautifully with her vocals on this grief-stricken track. “The Emperor’s New Clothes” shows a conviction that is part anger and part middle finger to the never-ending judgement the singer faced at the time with her star sky rocketing, scrutiny around her Catholic faith, and her role as a newly single mother.
Politics play a part on this album too, with the song “Black Boys on Mopeds” taking a firm swipe at the Thatcher government as well as the death of a black youth at the hands of the police. A strong reminder that although this album was released in 1990, the conversations that were had then seem to be ones that we are still talking about today. O’Connor’s personal struggles extend far beyond her broken heart and she wasn’t afraid to step into the harsh reality of a world that may not have affected her directly, but most definitely surrounded her as evidenced in this song.
It is no secret that O’Connor’s struggles with mental health and controversies surrounding her relationship with religion have sometimes been at the forefront of her public image, as opposed to her music. But sensationalism aside, O’Connor was—and still is—a woman who was unafraid to sit in front of the world and bare her soul. I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got serves as a reminder of O’Connor’s brilliance, expecting nothing more in return other than to listen and question what didn’t or possibly doesn’t feel right.
On the album’s closing title track, O’Connor speaks with a gentle wisdom, reflecting, “I have water for my journey / I have bread and I have wine / No longer will I be hungry / For the bread of life is mine.” Whilst redemption radiates throughout this song and some may say, most of the album, O’Connor managed to deliver an incredible follow-up that extended her curiosity into the unknown with a fearlessness and honesty that has rarely been matched since.
I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got remains a compelling document of a true talent that paved the way toward introspection for other artists to follow, while ensuring her legacy as a singer-songwriter committed to laying things out for all to see, uncomfortable as that may be sometimes”.
I am going to finish with a couple of reviews. AllMusic provided their take on Sinéad O'Connor's second studio album. Although there are different release dates provided online, I am pretty sure it was 20th March, 1990 that is was released (rather than 12th March). In any case, it is a monumentally powerful album that still takes me back and creates shivers:
“I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got became Sinéad O'Connor's popular breakthrough on the strength of the stunning Prince cover "Nothing Compares 2 U," which topped the pop charts for a month. But even its remarkable intimacy wasn't adequate preparation for the harrowing confessionals that composed the majority of the album. Informed by her stormy relationship with drummer John Reynolds, who fathered O'Connor's first child before the couple broke up, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got lays the singer's psyche startlingly and sometimes uncomfortably bare. The songs mostly address relationships with parents, children, and (especially) lovers, through which O'Connor weaves a stubborn refusal to be defined by anyone but herself. In fact, the album is almost too personal and cathartic to draw the listener in close, since O'Connor projects such turmoil and offers such specific detail. Her confrontational openness makes it easy to overlook O'Connor's musical versatility. Granted, not all of the music is as brilliantly audacious as "I Am Stretched on Your Grave," which marries a Frank O'Connor poem to eerie Celtic melodies and a James Brown "Funky Drummer" sample. But the album plays like a tour de force in its demonstration of everything O'Connor can do: dramatic orchestral ballads, intimate confessionals, catchy pop/rock, driving guitar rock, and protest folk, not to mention the nearly six-minute a cappella title track. What's consistent throughout is the frighteningly strong emotion O'Connor brings to bear on the material, while remaining sensitive to each piece's individual demands. Aside from being a brilliant album in its own right, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got foreshadowed the rise of deeply introspective female singer/songwriters like Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan, who were more traditionally feminine and connected with a wider audience. Which takes nothing away from anyone; if anything, it's evidence that, when on top of her game, O'Connor was a singular talent”.
I am going to end with this review from SLANT. Without doubt one of the best albums of the 1990s, I would encourage anyone who has not heard this album in a while to listen to. Ahead of its thirty-fifth anniversary on 20th March. O’Connor would follow her second studio album with 1992’s Am I Not Your Girl? It is an album that got some negative press. A collection of covers, it is very different from I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got:
“I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got found Sinéad O’Connor bruised but determined, disappointed yet hopeful. The cause was a combination of burgeoning fame and a nasty breakup (with John Reynolds, drummer and father of O’Connor’s son), and the result was one of the most politically, socially, and spiritually charged breakup albums of the ’90s, if not the entire 20th century.
The album opens with the gorgeous orchestral pop of “Feel So Different,” a meditation on said fame and relationship: “I am not like I was before/I thought that nothing would change me.” O’Connor’s relationship woes are invariably linked to her career, and her breakup with Reynolds is likened to a business transaction on the stunning “The Last Day of Our Acquaintance.” Anger, sadness, relief, and despondency are simultaneously bundled up in O’Connor’s voice on these two tracks, as it is throughout most of the album. Her voice is flawless in its technical imperfections; she begins each song delicately but ultimately erupts with the ferociousness of a punk.
The singer’s greatest vocal achievement is perhaps her interpretation of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 U,” a classic torch song she quite simply owns. While it’s the only track on which O’Connor received production assistance (Nellee Hooper gives the song a minimalist yet modern appeal), it sits comfortably among songs like the hip-hop-beats-meet-Celtic-melodies of “I Am Stretched on Your Grave,” and the acoustic protest-folk of “Black Boys on Mopeds” (on which O’Connor’s lyrics now sound prophetic, both personally and politically: “These are dangerous days/To say what you feel is to dig your own grave”).
Throughout the album, O’Connor struggles with these personal tribulations amid the oppression of the world around her: “I will live by my own policies/I will sleep with a clear conscience,” she sings on “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” The disc ends even more sparely than it begins; the a cappella title track brings the singer back to a place of prayer and hopeful redemption, but whether it’s God or a lover she seeks on her “journey,” this is clearly the voice of someone who will never stop searching”.
Three years after the release of her magnificent debut album, The Lion and the Cobra, Sinéad O'Connor released another original and personal masterpiece. Her death has left a huge void in music. However, we can remember her through her work. An album like I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got. Every time I listen to it I am moved and in awe. What a brilliant and fearless artist Sinéad O'Connor was. It is clear she will never be forgotten! She was at her peak on her…
ASTONISHING second studio album.