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The juice on The Cranberries
Interview, March, 1995 by Evelyn McDonnell
Dolores O'Riordan, lead singer of the band that's making such a splash, talks about fame, relevance, rebellion, and the other "grand" berries
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Dolores O'Riordan has the rock 'n' roll sneer. Elvis had it, Sid Vicious had it, and the twenty-three-year-old singer-songwriter for the Irish quartet the Cranberries has it twice, both sides of her Cupid's-bow lips lifting in an expression of disdain and disgust. She aims her sneer at the war in Northern Ireland in the brilliant, omnipresent video for the hit single "Zombie," off the band's multi-platinum second album, No Need to Argue. The heretofore mild, buzz-cut country girl expresses a deep rage on "Zombie," her thick, haunting Irish accent erupting in waves of condemnation as the video shows British soldiers patrolling Belfast streets and her band (guitarist Noel Hogan, bassist Mike Hogan, and drummer Feargal Lawler) plays tense, dynamic guitar-rock. The rest of the album follows more in the sepia-toned vein of the band's hugely successful debut, Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We?, with somber breakup songs and an "Ode to My Family." I talked on the phone with O'Riordan as she sat in a London hotel, preparing for the Cranberries' second sold-out gig at the Royal Albert Hall. While she's fought her way to the top with a grit that just outweighs her naivete, O'Riordan still shares some of the backward, unsisterly views that are woefully common among rock's pioneering, if unenlightened, heroines (not to mention the heroes): "I couldn't work with women; I reckon I'd kill 'em," she said, unprompted, during this interview. But to the hordes of teenage girls who pack the Cranberries' shows, she still provides an empowering image of a female bandleader, singing her mind.
EVELYN MCDONNELL: Where are you living now?
DOLORES O'RIORDAN: In the south of Ireland. I'm building a house there overlooking the sea. It's really quiet and peaceful.
EM: You just got married, right?
DO: Yeah. I met my husband when we were opening up for Duran Duran. He was doing their stage management, and I noticed he used to give us an extra few minutes. So we hit it off on tour - romance and then marriage. No babies yet.
EM: Are you a practicing Catholic?
DO: I was raised Catholic and I have a lot of respect for the good in the Catholic Church. But I don't go to church.
EM: In the "Zombie" video directed by Samuel Bayer you're presented as some sort of deity figure.
DO: We wanted an abstract message as well as the real Belfast footage. The idea of the gold was my idea; I wanted to paint my body in gold and be all glamorous and perfect and just gold. And all the little kids on the bottom were painted in silver, but they're screaming. Silver and gold symbolize the beauty that we see in the world or that we care to open our eyes to. Then the screaming and the cross and the real, black-and-white footage symbolize the pain that's there and we close our eyes to: the children that suffer, and the parents and families that suffer.
EM: HOW do you feel about the peace treaty between the IRA and the British government?
DO: Very happy. Just keeping my fingers crossed. For political parties it takes a lot of courage to put their arms down.
EM: Your Irish heritage seems very important to you.
DO: I love the country. I've traveled a lot, and there's no place like it.
EM: How did you maintain such an accent in your vocals, when most Irish bands sing like Americans?
DO: I grew up with a very strong Irish accent, and I didn't see why I should put on airs and graces for anything or anybody.
EM: What was your first instrument, and when did you start playing?
DO: Tin whistle, when I was five years old. I was able to play really quick reels when I was about eight. It's like learning to speak when you're a kid; in certain schools in Ireland, you learn how to play the whistle, and you can play it with your eyes closed, hanging upside down.
EM: What does your family think of what you're doing?
DO: They're all really proud and supportive.
EM: But there was a time when you had to rebel.
DO: Yeah. Sometimes you can break your parents' hearts, but you don't mean to. Now they see that I was sensible and I didn't fall into any bad pits. Although it hasn't been easy. I've been the only girl in a very male-dominated world, trying to find myself and trusting the wrong men, semi falling in love with idiots.
EM: This is your first band, right?
DO: This is my first real band, that I've been writing with. I couldn't imagine myself with any other band. I couldn't work with women; I reckon I'd kill 'em. Too many women together would get on each other's nerves, and I don't know any women that play instruments. The boys are grand to work with because they're quiet and easygoing.
EM: Were they looking for a female singer to replace their old singer?
DO: No, their old singer was a guy and they didn't care either way. Which is quite good, because not many women play rock 'n' roll in Ireland; they're usually doing more the long-hair, walking-through-the-woods kind of thing. I suppose it's more common now, since Sinead.
