An angelic sweetness that can easily turn into a primal howl, Sinéad O'Connor's voice has, to me, always been the voice of Celtic women everywhere. It becomes even more powerful when she's singing about the history of her own people.
Molly Malone is a song that most everyone has heard and can sing along to, Irish or not. Sinéad's version, however, is haunting - as it should be. (as a side note: sifting through videos of Sinéad and Dolores O'Riordan of the Cranberries is really making me reconsider my attempts to grow my hair long again)
I am not a music lover in the traditional sense. I can go days, weeks, without hearing music and never miss it. When I'm home alone during the day, the house is quiet. I have found that when I listen to music I must give it my full attention. There is no background music for me - sounds distract me, they dull my other senses. For instance, I need to turn down the radio in the car to properly smell if perhaps there's oil burning and I have hushed my husband while adding spices to a dish I was cooking. It's an odd quirk.
So the music I take the time to listen to usually has a transcendent quality: an unusual sound, a poetic lyric, an amazing voice.
Throat singing sounds otherworldly, and at the same time, utterly human. Imagine yourself hearing this Tuvan music on the great wide open plains of central Asia or being in the land of the midnight sun, listening to these two teenaged Inuit girls sing. Be transported.
