The Cranberries Saw Us
I had hopes that 2018 would usher in a kinder, softer year that would take it a little easier on our emotions. Those hopes have already been dashed as I learned yesterday of the untimely death of Dolores O'riordan, lead singer of the Cranberries and 90s rock icon. There have been a few celebrity deaths that have been hard to take but I must admit that this is one of the most difficult for me.
I was in early high school when their first album broke through the airwaves and we were offered a bright, lilting, feminine alternative to the mostly male dominated rock scene. Sure, there was other women making music but there was something special about the Cranberries. I spent hours with that first CD, Everybody Else is Doing It, So Why Can't We. The dark cover, a photo of the band on a small sofa was simple and straightforward but somehow comforting. No Need To Argue, released the next year was the bright counterpart. The same setting, the same simple composition and a return of the same small sofa. I spent even more time pouring over that CD jacket, this one with the lyrics to all the songs enclosed in the pages. My copy of No Need To Argue was unusual. For some reason it ended up having two copies of the same page stapled together and I remember wondering (in that age before a quick google search was possible) if mine was the only jacket that had a doubled up page, if someone else had a copy that was missing a sheet or if an entire printing had gone out that way. The songs were out of order to the listing on the CD but the fact that there were a few songs with missing lyrics led me to believe that though I had two of one page I was missing another, a theory that I, for some reason never checked out.
That couch seemed almost like a member of the band. Featured in every photo, it inspired me to want to recreate the idea. I began to imagine carting a large armchair around with me to different locals and photographing myself and my friends on it. Though I did do some photography in high school and spent time "scouting" locations that would look great with my fluffy armchair in them I never managed to go to all the work and difficulty of transporting that chair with me. I'm not entirely sure what intrigued me most about those pictures with that couch but I suspect that my teenage brain was enthralled with the idea that I could make any place feel like home. For this young girl that didn't feel at home in her small town local, the idea of uprooting and making any place I wanted "mine" was truly appealing.
In my last year of high school I found myself as the singer in a little garage band. It didn't last long and we didn't really have more than one small "gig" opening for an Elvis impersonator at a high school assembly but it was an important part of me "finding my voice." I love to sing and there was something so incredibly enjoyable about mimicking the lilting, Irish accent of Dolores. Her voice had a wonderful way of jumping in pitch at the end of a word that was interesting that I found I was able to duplicate.
Our band performed three songs that day in our high school gym. Sweet Child Of Mine by Guns and Roses, Grace Two by the Tragically Hip (another difficult loss of last year) and Zombie by the Cranberries. I was both nervous and excited to be in front of my peers but the greatest compliment I could have received was when someone came to me after and told me that when the song started they had thought that I was syncing.
As of now there is no explanation for her cause of death but when someone in their mid 40s passes away it's suspicious. This isn't supposed to happen and my thoughts immediately go to the question of suicide. She suffered from depression and bipolar disorder and though people are reporting that she seemed to be in good spirits and making plans emotions can turn quite quickly and often someone that struggles in those ways becomes quite adept at covering their pain. Even the fact that so many people are commenting on her apparent state of mind suggests an attempt to rule out that possibility.
Dolores' voice carried me though the 90s. I both cried and rejoiced as I belted out Cranberries songs so many times over the years. I enjoyed challenging my voice lift and move the way her voice did and every time I hear one of their songs I am instantly transported back to those times when I felt like a fluffy armchair under a tree could be feel like home. I'm reminded that it doesn't matter where you are but who you are with. When I hear their music I am reminded of those teenage fears and anxieties that seemed so all consuming and insurmountable and it gives me hope. Hope in the knowing that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, that even the most difficult days would someday become a distant memory.
I want to thank her for that hope she has offered, for the encouragement that only time can give and the reminder whenever I hear her voice, and I still listen to her regularly, that home is wear you make it. I wish that someone was able to lift you up in the way you raised us. Rest in Peace Miss. O'riordan. Your life was not easy but it was influencial. You will be missed.
I was in early high school when their first album broke through the airwaves and we were offered a bright, lilting, feminine alternative to the mostly male dominated rock scene. Sure, there was other women making music but there was something special about the Cranberries. I spent hours with that first CD, Everybody Else is Doing It, So Why Can't We. The dark cover, a photo of the band on a small sofa was simple and straightforward but somehow comforting. No Need To Argue, released the next year was the bright counterpart. The same setting, the same simple composition and a return of the same small sofa. I spent even more time pouring over that CD jacket, this one with the lyrics to all the songs enclosed in the pages. My copy of No Need To Argue was unusual. For some reason it ended up having two copies of the same page stapled together and I remember wondering (in that age before a quick google search was possible) if mine was the only jacket that had a doubled up page, if someone else had a copy that was missing a sheet or if an entire printing had gone out that way. The songs were out of order to the listing on the CD but the fact that there were a few songs with missing lyrics led me to believe that though I had two of one page I was missing another, a theory that I, for some reason never checked out.
That couch seemed almost like a member of the band. Featured in every photo, it inspired me to want to recreate the idea. I began to imagine carting a large armchair around with me to different locals and photographing myself and my friends on it. Though I did do some photography in high school and spent time "scouting" locations that would look great with my fluffy armchair in them I never managed to go to all the work and difficulty of transporting that chair with me. I'm not entirely sure what intrigued me most about those pictures with that couch but I suspect that my teenage brain was enthralled with the idea that I could make any place feel like home. For this young girl that didn't feel at home in her small town local, the idea of uprooting and making any place I wanted "mine" was truly appealing.
In my last year of high school I found myself as the singer in a little garage band. It didn't last long and we didn't really have more than one small "gig" opening for an Elvis impersonator at a high school assembly but it was an important part of me "finding my voice." I love to sing and there was something so incredibly enjoyable about mimicking the lilting, Irish accent of Dolores. Her voice had a wonderful way of jumping in pitch at the end of a word that was interesting that I found I was able to duplicate.
Our band performed three songs that day in our high school gym. Sweet Child Of Mine by Guns and Roses, Grace Two by the Tragically Hip (another difficult loss of last year) and Zombie by the Cranberries. I was both nervous and excited to be in front of my peers but the greatest compliment I could have received was when someone came to me after and told me that when the song started they had thought that I was syncing.
As of now there is no explanation for her cause of death but when someone in their mid 40s passes away it's suspicious. This isn't supposed to happen and my thoughts immediately go to the question of suicide. She suffered from depression and bipolar disorder and though people are reporting that she seemed to be in good spirits and making plans emotions can turn quite quickly and often someone that struggles in those ways becomes quite adept at covering their pain. Even the fact that so many people are commenting on her apparent state of mind suggests an attempt to rule out that possibility.
Dolores' voice carried me though the 90s. I both cried and rejoiced as I belted out Cranberries songs so many times over the years. I enjoyed challenging my voice lift and move the way her voice did and every time I hear one of their songs I am instantly transported back to those times when I felt like a fluffy armchair under a tree could be feel like home. I'm reminded that it doesn't matter where you are but who you are with. When I hear their music I am reminded of those teenage fears and anxieties that seemed so all consuming and insurmountable and it gives me hope. Hope in the knowing that it wasn't as bad as it seemed, that even the most difficult days would someday become a distant memory.
I want to thank her for that hope she has offered, for the encouragement that only time can give and the reminder whenever I hear her voice, and I still listen to her regularly, that home is wear you make it. I wish that someone was able to lift you up in the way you raised us. Rest in Peace Miss. O'riordan. Your life was not easy but it was influencial. You will be missed.
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