Over the next few days, I'll endeavor to bring you some of the less-well-trod options for cultural Irish enhancement.
As beloved as they may be — you'll not find The Quiet Man, The Clancy Brothers or James Joyce in these pages. It's about new experiences, forgotten gems, hidden treasures.
And, please — for the love of all that is good and holy, Michael Collins and John F. Kennedy — NO GREEN BEER.
Today's offering:
Just because she's a split-personality nutcase who is a danger not only to herself but record executives and authority figures everywhere — we cannot forget that Sinead O'Connor is possibly the greatest female vocalist in Ireland's illustrious history.
She is brilliant, petulant, unhinged, beautiful, infuriating, inspiring, heartbreaking and, in the end, mysterious. Just like the country she hails from, tortures and reveres.
Here she reminds us of our common humanity:
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