In a rehearsal room called Xeric in Limerick in 1990, three teenagers auditioned a singer for a band that barely had a name yet. Dolores O'Riordan sang Sinéad O'Connor's "Troy," and guitarist Noel Hogan knew instantly: "it was obvious she could sing, so that was it – she was in." Days later she handed him back a cassette he'd given her, now filled with words and melody for "Linger," the first song they wrote together. Their 1993 debut, "Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We?," paired Hogan's chiming guitar with O'Riordan's Celtic-inflected, whisper-to-wail voice, and 1994's "Zombie" turned that voice into a protest anthem about the Troubles. O'Riordan died in 2018, mid-album, with a band still built entirely around the night she walked into that room and sang.
When their label Island Records signed the band, Noel Hogan had one request: Stephen Street, "because he was the Smiths' producer and we all loved them." Through six trial days at the console, Hogan kept thinking about the Smiths' own guitarist: "He used to sit with Johnny Marr, and now he's sat with me," he told the Guardian, admitting he grilled Street about the band all week despite trying to play it cool. Street stayed on as their producer for three decades, and Hogan's chiming, arpeggiated guitar style carries the same ringing debt Marr's did before him.
listen forCue the Smiths' "This Charming Man" and hear guitarist Johnny Marr's riff cascade in a bright, tumbling arpeggio before Morrissey opens his mouth. Then play the Cranberries' "Dreams" — the same rising, chiming figure opens the track and sets its floating mood, Hogan's version slower and more hushed but built from the identical move: fingers climbing a chord shape instead of strumming it flat.
O'Riordan traced her signature vocal break — the sudden leap from a murmur to a keening yodel — back to her father's country records, but she named the artists who showed her how to fold it into rock music: "over the years there were artists like Sinéad O'Connor and Siouxsie... it was something you could work into the Cranberries' format," she told Paste. It was O'Connor's "Troy" she'd sung at that very first rehearsal with the band, years before she turned the same whisper-to-wail arc into "Zombie."
listen forListen to O'Connor's "Troy" curl from a hushed, almost-spoken verse into a full-throated wail by its end. The Cranberries' "Zombie" maps the same arc onto rockier ground — an ornamented, Celtic-tinged verse tipping into a keening, shouted chorus. Kinks guitarist Dave Davies, hearing "Zombie" for the first time, described exactly that shift: O'Riordan's voice going "from this beautiful, soft whisper... to this huge rock voice."
Noel Hogan still remembers the day fame started to feel real: R.E.M. singer Michael Stipe showed up at the shoot for the "Linger" video and stood chatting with the band in a hotel hallway. "We kind of grew up listening to R.E.M.," Hogan told Paste, and within a couple of years the Cranberries were opening for their heroes on a summer tour alongside Oasis. R.E.M.'s ringing, unhurried jangle — a rock band leaning on picked, folk-derived textures instead of volume — had already given the band a working model for sounding wistful rather than loud.
listen forPlay R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion" and follow the picked, arpeggiated mandolin figure that carries the verse instead of a driving backbeat — jangle standing in for urgency. Then put on the Cranberries' "Linger": the guitar does the same job, a softly circling arpeggio under a hushed, aching vocal that only opens up in the chorus. Both songs let a quiet, finger-picked figure carry the emotional weight a bigger arrangement would usually supply.