So, does Sean Nos Nua actually conform to any of those descriptions? No, it certainly does not! This, my friends, is something genuinely and profoundly beautiful.

O'Connor's introductory notes are worth quoting extensively here, as they reveal both the "soul" of this particular album and the depth of understanding that the singer has brought to the exploration of the Irish tradition as her artistic impetus: "Many of the songs on this record are stories of enduring and unconditional love, love that can't be quenched by fires or floods. They are the beautifully borne pain of real people who really existed. They teach that pain can be made into something positive and beautiful when one sings it, and so pain can be healed by singing, since songs are magic. I consider all of these songs magical prayers and therefore not sad songs at all. They are only sad to those who cannot feel the true ghosts of the people who are speaking through the songs. Love, and only enduring love, is the lesson they are giving and therefore utter joy. They show that the soul is everlasting."

That she's succeeded in translating these beliefs into performance is demonstrated from the opening track, "Peggy Gordon." O'Connor heard this song sung by an Irish woman as a lament for her lost female lover, and it's that unspeakable anguish -- quite literally, in the context of rural Ireland's enduring social taboos, that informs her interpretation of the song. Similarly, "Molly Malone," is transformed from an overly - familiar pub "come all ye," into a moving tribute to Dublin's "ghosts," particularly the singer's late father, who loved and sang the song.

This imaginative and deeply sensitive approach occurs time and time again across the material on this CD. "Lord Franklin," "Paddy's Lament" and "The Moorlough Shore" may all reside elsewhere in your collection several times over, as they do in mine, but it's unlikely that you've heard them sung with the passionate emotionality O'Connor brings to this material. One song that doesn't stray very far from O'Connor's "source" version is "Lord Baker," the epic ballad that provided Planxty's Words and Music with it's colossal centrepiece in 1989. The singer of that definitive version also guests here, singing the song as a duet with O'Connor. It iis, of course, Christy Moore who delivers a predictably spine-tingling performance.

Christy's not the only welcome name here, not by a long chalk. There's no way that O'Connor could have realised this ambitious achievement without the enormous input of some of the very best traditional musicians that Ireland has to offer. Happily (and perhaps inevitably), the towering musical presence of Donal Lunny can be felt everywhere on Sean Nos Nua. Sharon Shannon is another immediately identifiable, major contributor, with her uniquely fluid accordion playing. Special mention must be made of Steve Wickham, a long-term collaborator with O'Connor, and fiddle player with The Waterboys. It's his extraordinary musical empathy with the singer that elevates many of these performances beyond the merely "affecting" and into the realms of transcendence. This empathy is nowhere more demonstrable than on "The Singing Bird" where his violin, rather than O'Connor's voice, wordlessly "sings" the final verse.

Elsewhere among the list of musicians, the credit: "Professor Stretch - drum and bass programming" stands out as somewhat incongruous among the flutes, banjos and bodhrans. The "traditionalists" have nothing to fear from the professor, as his subtle, shuffling rhythms seamlessly enhance the otherwise acoustic textures of the arrangements. That's actually a very difficult accomplishment, which is usually only successfully achieved when the music comes from someone -- like O'Connor -- who's worked primarily within in the conventions and technology of "modern" music production. Too many "folkies" often try to "bolt-on" a bit of techno, in an attempt at broadening their appeal, only to end up as the musical equivalent of a middle-aged man going to a party in his teenage son's clothes. But I digress...

Both "Her Mantle So Green," and "My Lagan Love" are songs forever associated with Margaret Barry, a volatile and unpredictable Irish woman blessed with an astonishing voice, who caused seismic tremors in the musical landscape of London in the 1950's. While it's deliciously tempting to make speculative assumptions about O'Connor's precedents, any such perceived similarities are probably no more than coincidences. Certainly, O'Connor herself has made no suggestion of particular "inheritance" to anyone, nor has she made any claim for Sean Nos Nua as a "landmark" album in Irish traditional song. What she has said (and it's printed right in the centre of the first page of the booklet, so you don't miss it), is this: "This record is my heart."

If you're STILL not convinced that Sinead O'Connor is much more than just a willfully controversial '80s pop singer, it's worth quoting an album title from another artist who (rightly or wrongly) is often viewed the same way: "Listen Without Prejudice."

[Stephen Hunt]