Cranberries - Zombie and Ballads From the Heart of Ireland

The Cranberries are the Irish outfit who, for a certain period in the early Nineties, managed to pick up the best of the "Celtic" and popular rock legacy left by U2, thanks to a handful of vibrant invectives and ethereal lullabies, steeped in that "magical" allure that made the fortune of the Emerald Isle (and of many of its bands). The rest of their career, however, was marked by a swift and inexorable artistic decline, albeit one always accompanied by solid commercial returns.

Breaking through in 1992 with an original strain of folk-rock elevated by the vocal virtuosity of singer Dolores O'Riordan, they made it big in the United States even before conquering their homeland, with their debut album Everybody Is Doing It Why Can't We?, which sold a million and a half copies thanks to a fresh, intriguing sound and the backing of MTV, which saw in the blonde frontwoman a telegenic and captivating face.

Musically, the album offers a hybrid of Celtic folk, pop melodies and frantic rock rhythms. O'Riordan does the rest, with an extremely pliant voice capable of shifting from tender lullabies to tense psychodramas. Tracks like "Sunday" and "Waltzing Back" also reveal a particular care in the arrangements, managing to hold together breezy pop touches and almost classical orchestral atmospheres. Pure ballads like "Linger", "Pretty" and "Dreams" are sung by O'Riordan with a depressed, fatalistic spleen, revealing a distinctive melodic gift. The rest of the band always stays in the background, supporting their muse's singing mainly with light guitar arpeggios and violin phrases.

But that's nothing compared to the glory of No Need To Argue, the following record, which went on to sell thirteen million copies and brought the Cranberries worldwide popularity. Credit goes above all to "Zombie", a vehement protest against violence on children in Northern Ireland and O'Riordan's absolute masterpiece, her acrobatic vocals climbing over a wall of dissonant guitars. But the album also offers a handful of tender, intense ballads, such as the intimate "Ode To My Family", enriched by a poignant string section, the achingly sweet "Dreaming My Dreams", barely whispered by O'Riordan over delicate violin filigree, and the touching "Yeats' Grave", dedicated to the great Irish poet.

The band's "Celtic" roots are instead showcased on the lengthy "Daffodil Lament", perhaps the album's most epic moment. The Cranberries' rock is rooted in Irish mythology, in folk and in pop melodrama in the vein of Sinéad O'Connor (whose vocal style inspired O'Riordan), but it doesn't shy away from forays into classically-tinged symphonic atmospheres. A certainly original formula, but one the band would never again manage to replicate at the same level in their subsequent albums.

An achievement like No Need To Argue brought particular prestige to O'Riordan, who was invited to sing alongside Luciano Pavarotti ('95), to appear with the band at the Woodstock "remake" ('94), and to perform at the concert honoring the Nobel Prize winners in Oslo, Norway. The band's rising fame, however, would soon be matched by a precipitous collapse in songwriting inspiration.

To The Faithful Departed (1996) is an apocalyptic pastiche devoted to the great tragedies of the era, from Bosnia to the sufferings of childhood to the countless small wars scattered across the globe. Lacking adequate inspiration on the lyrical front, the record also occasionally stumbles musically, tripping over banal, old-fashioned pop ("Free To Decide", "Forever Yellow Skies") or launching into rather one-note rock invectives ("Salvation", "I Just Shot John Lennon").

There are exceptions, though, in the form of a trio of top-class tracks: the vibrant single "Hollywood", in which O'Riordan attempts to recapture the daring vocal style of "Zombie"; the soft "Will You Remember", with a delicate melody resting on a swaying rhythm and synth counterpoints; and the inevitable enchanted lullaby, "When You're Gone", which this time draws on languid, 1950s-flavored atmospheres.

Attempts to flesh out the sound with orchestral arrangements and guitar harmonies only partly manage to mask a few missteps in the songwriting. Overall, though, the Irish band still keeps its head above water, both on the charts and in general esteem.

But the lurking danger for Cranberries is repeating the cursed arc of countless successful rock bands: fame, stress, a self-destructive nervous breakdown. So for several months they vanish from the music scene, surfacing only in the tabloids. The reason: the singer's mysterious illness, which had forced the band to cut short a tour. Nervous exhaustion, anorexia, or just a knee injury? Then the mystery dissolved amid the notes of a new album. "The title 'Bury The Hatchet' is our way of saying we've put everything behind us," says guitarist Noel Hogan. "There were things that hurt us. But now it's time to bury the past and move forward with what we do best."

Across the thirteen tracks of Bury The Hatchet, Cranberries renew their trademark balance of melody and rhythm, emotion and energy, starting with the successful single "Promises".

The album, however, is on the whole mediocre: too many insipid, commercial songs, too many flat stretches. Meanwhile, the slight, blonde singer seems to have moved past the hardest psychological phase of her life: she married former Duran Duran manager, the Canadian Don Burton, and became a mother of two girls. "There was too much work, too much frenzy: we'd all hit our limit," she recalls. "Now I've found my enthusiasm again. I don't think I'm a different person, I just feel happy, and that means I no longer worry about what people think of me."

A mood of renewed calm also pervades the following Wake Up And Smell The Coffee, their debut on a new label, Mca Records. For the occasion, Dolores O'Riordan and co. once again brought in Stephen Street (The Smiths, Morrissey, Blur), producer of their first two albums. But the magical atmospheres of their early days now seem like a distant memory. The impression is that the Cranberries' "sacred fire" has dimmed into a series of electric lullabies that are as catchy as they are generic. In place of their early folk-rock, what's left is an empty pop shell, still capable of the occasional tender ballad (the romantic "The Concept", the slow three-quarter time of "Carry On") and appealing lullabies, like the closing "Chocolate Brown". But too many choruses are predictable, distant relatives of the ones that made the Limerick band famous. And, aside from the environmentalist invective of "Time is Ticking Out", even the political fire that fueled a true generational anthem like "Zombie" has gone out. An over-sweetened coffee, in short, from the new Cranberries - one that still sells millions of copies, but disappoints longtime fans.

The Limerick quartet takes stock and releases their first official anthology, Stars, which includes all the international singles, an album track chosen by fans via a poll on the official website, and a couple of new songs, "New New York" and "Stars". Unfortunately, some new edits were made for this collection in order to fit twenty tracks onto a single CD. Things would go better with the second, double anthology Gold, part of a Universal Music series that for a few years proved a solid answer to Sony's even more successful "Essential" line. "Gold" contains all the tracks from "Stars" in their original versions (including the two new songs) plus many more, even a few b-sides, and remains today the ideal compendium for those who don't want a mere "greatest hits" but aren't interested in the Irish band's entire discography either.

With Cranberries left to their fate, Dolores O'Riordan attempts the inevitable solo move with Are You Listening (2007). The problem is that, contrary to what one might have expected, there are no high-profile producers or studio wizards by her side, and the outcome is easy to predict: a flop. The piano chimes and guitar strums of "In The Garden" and "Black Widow" aren't enough to redeem a bland stew that only makes you miss Cranberries ("Ordinary Day" and "Accept Things" are pale imitations of that style). "Stay With Me" delivers a bit of a jolt, but it's quickly forgotten. A decent single like "The Journey" serves as a prelude to her second solo record, No Baggage, released by Cooking Vinyl in 2009, which also includes "Switch Off The Moment". During the band's long hiatus, Dolores also takes part in a few collaborations with other artists, such as Jam And Spoon (she guests on the track "Mirror Lover", from the dance duo's album "Tripomatic Fairytales 3003", which also features tracks recorded with Midge Ure, Tricky, and Jim Kerr of Simple Minds) and Zucchero, with whom she sings a new version of "Puro amore" on "Zu & Co."

Just when it seemed that Dolores O'Riordan, one of the most promising voices/performers of the '90s, had lost herself in a dead end, in 2009 an email exchange took place between her and the Cranberries' guitarist. Soon after, a tour was born, which turned out to be a surprise success (with plenty of young faces in the crowd), followed by a brand new album produced once again by Stephen Street. Preceded by the sparkling single "Tomorrow", forever poised between the Sundays and the Smiths, Roses hit stores in the first quarter of 2012 in various editions - some including two studio bonus tracks, while the Italian edition (distributed by Edel) came with a second CD featuring a run of hits recorded live in Madrid in 2010. During an episode of "Taratata", they also perform live a cover of a Cure song, "Inbetween Days", taken from the album "The Head On The Door".

After the hangover of indie-disco and the revival of 80s new wave, Cranberries went back to doing what they've always done best: writing melancholy yet genuine ballads alternating with more energetic moments, this time without any "at all costs" plot twists (Dolores' voice is more restrained and subdued than in the past). More than one track works very well: "Tomorrow", despite rather predictable rhymes ("Tomorrow will be too late/ I wish I could change the date"), proves to be a sparkling and successful return to international radio, with an arrangement that recalls both "Just My Imagination" and some classics from the Morrissey/Johnny Marr partnership; "Raining In My Heart" brings to mind David Gray's early songs, though the sonic backdrop is enriched by an accordion that lends the whole thing an unexpected French touch. The energetic "Schizophrenic Playboys" warns girls not to fall for the easy charms of the opposite sex, all set to a "Bigmouth Strikes Again"-style backing and a dense arrangement complete with a string quintet. "Show Me" is the track that kicked off the album's promotion at the end of 2011, and "Astral Projections" is another of Roses's best moments. There's even room for nods to the 90s Bristol scene (minus the samples and scratching, of course) mixed with the solo Morrissey of "Life Is a Pigsty" in "Waiting In Walthamstow".

There's undoubtedly a lot of craft at work here, but the band, together with Street, learns from past mistakes and delivers a lean record, free of the sprawl that weighed down their less brilliant efforts and without the clumsy experiments that marred Dolores O'Riordan's solo work (where she chased after Lacuna Coil on "In The Garden").

During the most recent tour, the band themselves were struck by how many young fans (who had listened to "Zombie" and "Linger" as kids, perhaps thanks to records bought by their parents or older siblings) were in the crowd - a sign that the appeal of their music remains intact despite the apathy evident in their most recent work.

Then, like a bolt from the blue, on the most tragic blue monday in Irish rock history, came the most devastating news: on January 15, 2018, Dolores O'Riordan died "suddenly" while in London with the band to record a session. The family asked for the utmost privacy, and the cause was never revealed. There was talk of a long illness, but nothing had hinted at such an ending. Fans flooded the internet, and it was there, more than twenty years on, that it became clear Cranberries had been, in their own way, a generational band.

But before the Cranberries story comes to a close, there's room for one final chapter. Mike Hogan, Noel Hogan and Feargal Lawler received the vocal demos recorded by Dolores O’Riordan for In The End on 15 January 2018. Just a few hours later, along with the rest of the world, they would receive the news that Dolores had been found drowned in a room at the London Hilton. A few months later, the three announced to the press that they had finished the album and that, once it was released, the Cranberries would cease to exist. And yet, the Irish band's eighth album is their best in some twenty years.

Of course, all the behind-the-scenes context of a "last time" helps bring a tear or two, as in the voluptuous "Lost", where O’Riordan's fairy-like voice indulges in its trademark flourishes, soaring ever higher. Or when the beefier bassline of "Wake Me When It's Over" winks at that of "Zombie". Nothing the band hasn't already covered, in other words, but always delivered with great effectiveness.

"Catch Me If You Can", on the other hand, gives the Cranberries' sound unprecedented clothing. First a piano with a sprightly neoclassical gait, then a reinforcement of dramatic strings driving the verses, making it a very elegant track that, without giving up a touch of accessibility, is also sophisticated.

On an album where most of the song titles seem like sinister prophecies of what was to come, the very sunny acoustic strumming of "Summer Song" offers a welcome break. The tones then turn softly dramatic again in the farewell entrusted to the title track, which closes both the album and the adventure with a gentle embrace of melancholy strings and Celtic vocals.

There are plenty of arguments used by the snootier critics to belittle the Cranberries, some of which are even fair enough. We could certainly agree with those who call them a band incapable of sustaining a whole album, but it would be hard to deny the beauty of so many splendid pop songs delivered in a unique, melancholy blend of dream-pop, 90s alternative rock and Celtic touches. A unique, sweetish blend, like the finest Irish whiskeys. In The End is no exception: it has its less striking moments (still hummable, though), but it closes an unforgettable saga with dignity and emotion.

In 2025, Mtv Unplugged is finally released on record — the historic concert given by the Limerick band for the TV network's acoustic series on Valentine's Day 1995.

The Irish quartet appeared tight and in sync at the Howard Gilman Opera House in Brooklyn, New York. In front of the cameras, though, the spotlight belonged entirely to Dolores O’Riordan: her magnetic voice, with its sharp vibratos and suspended inflections, led every song with a spectral intensity.

Backed by Electra Strings (the string quartet that had accompanied the band on the British show Later with Jools Holland in 1994), the Cranberries confirmed the full vibrant intensity of their ballads and their Celtic rock anthems. Almost thirty years on, that performance lives again in an official release, bringing its natural expressive power back into focus. In just over half an hour, nine tracks in acoustic form lay bare the intensity of a band at the height of its creative maturity.

Contributions by Alessandro Liccardo ("Roses"), Michele Corrado ("In The End")

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