The Lion and the Cobra (1987)

Jackie by Sinead O’Connor

Jackie left on a cold, dark night
Tell me he’d be home
Sailed the seas for a hundred years
Leaving me all alone
And I’ve been dead for twenty years
I’ve been washing the sand with my ghostly tears
Searching the shores
For my Jackie-oh

I remember the day a young man came
He said, “Your Jackie’s gone, he got lost in the rain”
And I ran to the beach and laid me down
“You’re all wrong,” I said and they stared at the sand
“That man knows that sea like the back of his hand
He’ll be back some time… laughing at you.”

And I’ve been waiting all this time
For my man to come, take his hand in mine
And lead me away to unseen shores
I’ve been washing the sand with my salty tears
Searching the shore all these long years
And I’ll walk the seas… forever more
‘Til I find my Jackie-oh
‘Til I find my Jackie-oh
‘Til I find my Jackie-oh
Jackie-oh
‘Til I find my Jackie-oh
Jackie-oh

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■ Sinéad O’Connor
Sinéad O’Connor was an Irish singer, musician and activist. During her musical career, which encompassed several hit records and artist collaborations, O’Connor drew attention to issues such as child abuse, human rights, racism, and women’s rights. She was also known for her outspoken public image, openly discussing her spiritual journey, activism, socio-political viewpoints, and struggles with mental health.

Coming up next year (2027) will be the 40th Anniversary of Sinéad O’Connor debut album, The Lion and the Cobra (1987). Much of the music were written the year before, and as early as 1985.

O’Connor, at the age of 18 in 1985, had placed an advert in Hot Press (Ireland’s only music magazine at the time), saying that she was a singer looking for a band. Though that, somehow or another, someone tracked her down and asked her to come to London to make some demos with Karl Wallinger (from the Waterboys).

Excerpt from O’Connor’s memoir, Rememberings:

I demoed four songs with Karl, three of which eventually made it onto my first album, The Lion and the Cobra. The first was a song called “Drink Before The War,” which I’d written the previous year about my constipated headmaster who hated me making music and campaigned for my father not to let me take my guitar with me back to boarding school, despite the fact that all I could do was make music. I used to smoke right outside his gate to try to get expelled as a protest against his protest against my music-making. It never worked.

Knowing this now, the lyrics would describe the unfeeling headmaster: “Somebody cut out your eyes, you refuse to see. Somebody cut out your heart, you refuse to feel” Just powerful.

The other songs that made it onto the album were “Just Like U Said It Would B” (about a lesson from a certain minister on Psalm 91 – which the album’s title is taken from) and “Never Get Old” (about a very quiet boy who all the girls were secretly in love with).

On the basis of the demos, she was offered a record deal, which, on August 5, 1985, she signed – despite the protest of her lawyer, who begged her to find a better deal. The deal was for “7 points”, which means you get 7 percent of whatever how much your record sells.

With the record deal, O’Connor got a flat in London, a much different scene from living with her aunt in Ireland. She didn’t know anyone in London, apart from her fellow musicians and her manager. She spent a lot of time alone, and feeling lonely, and write songs about ghosts. “Troy” was about her (dead) mother and the minister.

It was during the writing process of The Lion and the Cobra that Sinead made the decision to shave her head. I’ve already previously mentioned about the Shavering. Basically she tried to make herself unattractive to the record company guy Nigel Grainge (who fancied her and wanted her to wear short skirts and feminine accessories like earrings and necklaces). It was a rejection of all-things feminine… but God, that skinhead look became Sinead O’Connor’s trademark. She owned it and since then, she’s rarely ever seen with hair.

The record label, Ensign, gave O’Connor £100,000 to record the album. Anyone who’s savvy with how this works is that money is more of an advance. You basically owe the record company that much money, and given that O’Connor said in her book, she only made £5,000 a year, and there’s no way she could ever pay it back (unless the record was a hit).

Spending all that time in the studio, especially with her drummer John Reynolds, she got pregnant with his baby. The record company man wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, in these cold words from the company’s doctor, “Your record company has spent a hundred thousand pounds recording your album. You owe it to them not to have this baby.”

She kept the baby. Much of this experience, about her baby and motherly love would surface in her sophomore album I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, which we’ll have to touch on at a later time.

The Lion and the Cobra came out in Oct 1987, and to promote the record, Sinead would go on tour, as a support act for INXS. Lucky for Sinead, she got the best rhythm section in her band: Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke, from The Smiths. Johnny Marr quit the Smiths that September, so Mike & Andy were freshly available for work-for-hire.

I am on tour in freezing England, supporting INXS. Right after I had agreed to tour with them, David Bowie asked me to support his band. It was a disappointment that I couldn’t accept but it’s brilliant that he asked me nonetheless. Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke, from the Smiths, are in my band. Andy is the funniest person I’ve ever met in my life. I love him. Andy and his brothers would be on acid when the parish priest came round for tea with them and their father. The boys had to try to act normal round the table and not be crying-laughing. That’s one reason I love Andy – he cry-laughs. Crying-laughing is the greatest feeling ever and the funniest thing to watch. Him and Mike are really funny together. They make each other roll around on the floor. I love Mike too. They’ve made me love Manchester people. Dead straight. No bullshit. No un-frank conversation. Also they treat me like a boy, which makes me a happy girl.

The Lion and the Cobra would eventually get nominated for a Grammy, in 1989 (two years after the album came out). It was “career-changing” for O’Connor, but who got satisfaction on a different level. You see, her record company man did not want her to release the album, who criticized the album for being, “too personal; it’s like reading someone’s diaries.” Remember that low 7-point contract that O’Connor signed? Well that also gave her complete creative control and direction and final approval of her album. That meant that she will release it, as she sees fit and not take advice from her record label. Knowing that people love the music and it sold well enough, it was good knowing that she was right the whole time.

On a personal note, The Lion and the Cobra, and I would have to admit, it’s quite a different Sinead O’Connor album. It’s more electric. It’s diverse, and it’s so unique in the grand scope of O’Connor’s work. It’s raw and it’s not as refined… but it’s a beautiful record.

My favorite song on the record is Jackie. A song about a woman who lost her husband at sea. She never gave up hope that her husband would return, even in her death, her ghost still haunts the shores, searching for her husband. It’s quite a beautiful song, especially when the guitar snarls back and she sings in a lower, angry voice: “’You’re all wrong’, I said and they stared at the sand. ‘That man knows that sea, like the back of his hand. He’ll be back some time… laughing at you.’”

Watch the video of this chorus singing the song.