pretty but safe.
"Yeat's Grave" is one of few songs on No Need that doesn't focus on first-person heartbreak. "Zombie" looks back to Ireland's 1916 rebellion, and "The Icicle Melts" is a painful indictment of child killing, perhaps triggered by a Belfast bombing. They are welcome breaks amid the otherwise relentless romantic agony.
Elsewhere, O'Riordan's diary is wide open. Like most writing of that kind, it consists of occasional insights swamped by pages of clichés. For instance, the title track is a lovely tune wrecked by trite lyrics ("You'll always be special to me") apparently sung with no irony.
On the band's first outing, Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We?, such innocence was forgivable. The Cranberries' debut was a charmer, showing off O'Riordan's singular voice and melodic knack. Slurred vocals seeped through a mesh of chiming guitars, reeling fiddles and a faintly Middle Eastern mysticism. This time the lyrics are front and center, and musical invention is in short supply.
The sweetness of the debut has been replaced by a stodgy adult bitterness, like tea steeped too long or porter gone sour. Here's hoping the Cranberries' next effort brings more vigor and less sighing. (RS 697)
WIF STENGER