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Review

Soaked, but solid

By SEAN DALY
Published December 8, 2005

	[Times photo: Brian Cassella]
	Sinead O'Connor performs Wednesday night at Four Green Fields.

TAMPA - Even in a peaceful, semiretired state of mind - and with a hurting throat causing her obvious discomfort - enigmatic Irish lass Sinead O'Connor couldn't help but be a bold-voiced contrarian.

Or, for that matter, a wannabe Rastafarian.

Playing before a few hundred rain-soggy fans on makeshift stage in the parking lot behind Four Green Fields, a small thatched-roof Irish pub, O'Connor completely ignored her Celtic-pop past - both the songs and the pope-bashing controversy that went with it - and crooned a 90-minute set made up solely of reggae rebel tunes.

Wednesday night's intense Jamaican travelogue wasn't a total surprise, of course. After all, O'Connor's new album, the critically lauded Throw Down Your Arms, is a lovingly rendered collection of covers made famous by such reggae icons as Bob Marley and Peter Tosh.

The disc was produced by legendary riddim kings Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare, who opened the Tampa show with a tight, thumping set, then remained onstage to back up the main attraction.

O'Connor's U.S. tour has mainly taken her to considerably more mainstream venues up north. But because of Four Green Fields' stature as a popular Irish haunt, the pub reportedly had the inside track on wooing the 38-year-old artist (who turns 39 Thursday) for a quick trip down to the Sunshine State.

"I have a really bad throat infection," said the reliably smooth-pated singer upon taking the stage. "So if I (bleep) up, just bear with me."

That said, achy pipes sure didn't stop her from opening the show with a haunting near a cappella reading of Burning Spear's Jah Nuh Dead. That famous fallen-angel voice of hers might have been a wee bit croaky, but she can still soar and soothe like a mischievous choir girl.

After that stunning opening, O'Connor was joined onstage by a nine-piece backing band, including a horn section and backing singers. And with the full-throttle support, O'Connor's delivery grew even stronger, especially on the churning political burner Marcus Garvey.

Continuously jigging about the stage with a long colorful scarf tied around her neck - and dropping more f-bombs than Tony Soprano - O'Connor tried to keep her voice, her bones and the wet crowd loose. On the rock-steady groove of He Prayed, she even managed to turn her head with dramatic flair and unleash of one of those trademark yelps, a bit of vocal derring-do that would leave most of us doubled-over in pain.

For better or worse, the rolling midtempo beats had a hypnotic way of blending together, and it would have been nice if she could have busted out a few of the hits (including the Prince-penned Nothing Compares 2 U) that made her such a captivating star in the '90s.

But O'Connor has never been one to bend to peer pressure (or a microphone that, when sprayed with the continuing drizzle, shocked her repeatedly). So she kept on with the island-born grooves, spiritual protest songs with which she obviously feels a strong connection.

Her sweet, lilting version of Lee "Scratch" Perry's Curly Locks was easily as sweet and heartfelt as anything she's recorded. Her take on Marley's pleading War was very pained and very timely.

And the night's rousing highlight was, without a doubt, her passionate performance of Peter Tosh's Downpressor Man. There she was, sticking it to the powers-that-be - be they political, religious, whatever - like only Sinead O'Connor can.

Sean Daly can be reached at sdaly@sptimes.com or 727 893-8467. His blog is at www.sptimes.com/blogs/popmusic

[Last modified December 8, 2005, 01:16:39]