Sinead O’Connor’s "Universal Mother" : her best album

In the wake of her revealing of a 1993 suicide attempt with sleeping pills, Sinead O’Connor’s brooding Universal Mother unfolds like a musical therapy session.

Against stark settings heavy on a cappella hymns and solo piano ballads, the then 27-year-old Irish singer wrestles with rage, remorse, and resolution. She confronts her abusive mother in such bitter childhood re-examinations as “Fire on Babylon” and “Red Football” (“I’m not no red football/To be kicked around the garden”). 

She traces the political turmoil that she believes has robbed Ireland of its sense of history in “Famine,” a hip-hop history lesson reminiscent of Gil-Scott Heron’s persuasive poetry. 

And she delivers a hushed, haunting cover of Nirvana’s “All Apologies” as both a tribute to Kurt Cobain and a testament to the twist of fate that has allowed her to live and learn.

As on other albums, O’Connor at times comes across as preachy (a snippet from a speech by Australian feminist Germaine Greer opens the disc) and overly dramatic. But the hopeful message that she’s trying to pass along—that parents need to reach out to, rather than lash out at, their children—comes across effectively in such passionate numbers as “Scorn Not His Simplicity,” the lullaby-like “My Darling Child,” and the Celtic gospel strains of “In This Heart,” which find her striving to comfort rather than condemn.