[jv11]

Маленькая статья про Долорес в журнале People.

http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e223/Rkf...orespeople2.jpg

Долорес рассказала, что ее мальчики умеют играть на гитаре, Молли играет на пианино (в 6 лет - прям как Долорес почти), а Дакота уже немного танцует ирландские танцы. :)

[Lyapis]

http://www.philly.com/inquirer/magazine/20...bling_roar.html
O'Riordan redeems '90s with a warbling roar

When the keening singer Dolores O'Riordan started her show Friday night at the Fillmore, she did something very wrong.

She opened with "Zombie," a signature smash from the Irish band she put on the shelf five years ago, the Cranberries.

"Zombie" - like the other jangling 'berries anthem, "Linger," that seemed to be everywhere at the time - helped make the '90s a cavernous musical yawn, with its sonic listlessness and nattering, obvious lyrics.

It was boorish. It was braying. It was a reminder of every awful tune that rock's worst decade had yielded.

It didn't have to be that way. There are Cranberries songs most delicious, and over the course of the night, O'Riordan picked a few. The thundering sound of O'Riordan's quartet may have muffled the swishy girl-group sound of "When You're Gone," but it didn't diminish its prettiness.

But opening with "Zombie," with its rushed strum and that high-pitched howling thing O'Riordan used as its chorus? It could only have been worse if she had hit the stage while step-dancing.

Luckily, O'Riordan, the imp with the shiny black hair and nasal brogue, then unveiled a tiny clutch of solo tunes that were both achingly potent and bristlingly inventive.

With its chopsticky piano riff, phase-shifted guitars, haunted harmonies and complex lullaby melodies, "Black Widow," off O'Riordan's new solo CD, Are You Listening?, seemed to be something only the avant-oddball Kate Bush could pull off properly. But there was O'Riordan, a slip of a woman, rocking to-and-fro, crowing mournfully about the empty life and emptier death of her mother-in-law, in an atmosphere most haunted.

The crunching, tinkling "Stay with Me," the simple sentiment and rhythmic thwack of "When We Were Young" - those songs sparkled.

And even though her warble infected squeaky new tunes such as "Angel Fire," it seemed as though O'Riordan had redeemed herself, redeemed every wrong the '90s ever achieved.

Maybe there's hope for Michael Flatley yet.