The Toronto Star February 11, 1991, Monday, SUNDAY EDITION Good shot but at the wrong target By Mitch Potter Toronto Star Don't look now, but I think Sinead O'Connor has been shaving the inside of her head. Please understand. O'Connor is music's story of the year, and rightly so. In a time when pop culture is rigidly targeted to age demographic and cultural background, she has created music that enraptures people from all walks of life. I'm one of them. That said, I'm totally convinced Sinead is a few sandwiches shy of a picnic. The assumption that when you like the music, you must necessarily like the musician cuts to the very quick of pop fame. And it's a fallacy, a cruel joke that repeatedly disillusions admirers who walk away numb after meeting the heroes and heroines they expect to be larger-than-life in real life. O'Connor has had big, big attitude from the day that startling first record, The Lion And The Cobra,introduced her passion play of conflicting emotions in late 1987. The visual statement - a shaved head - was the mark of a wily provocateur, and it's a stance she's nurtured ever since. But, along the way, the self-righteous screeds we've grown accustomed to have changed tone, from bluntly refreshing to absolutist and annoying. I think she's believing her own hype. The kicker came last week, when O'Connor announced her withdrawal from the upcoming Grammy Awards ceremonies to protest the music industry's "false and destructive materialistic values." The precious declaration - and remember Sinead had earlier agreed to perform live on the Feb. 20 telecast - came with this lofty platitude: "As artists, I believe our function is to express the feelings of the human race - to always speak the truth and never keep it hidden, even though we are operating in a world which does not like the sound of the truth." But whose truth? It's true that the industry of music is no different from that of vacuum cleaners, or computers. Profit-driven - designed to move units, not culture. And music ranks up there with breweries in the sexism department. But in nailing the Grammys - a system of awards selected by artists - Sinead is taking potshots at one of the few arms of the industry that has actually attempted to take a few chances in recent past. Grammy has its problems - I'm of the mind that awards shows are a problem in and of themselves - but the argument that it's a staid old beast designed to patronize safe, commercial juggernauts no longer holds water. In 1989, remember, the Grammys were the first to offer international television exposure to Sinead herself - a generous, risky gesture that helped set the foundation for the success she now enjoys. Last year, Grammy exceeded everyone's expectations, rewarding a succession of unconventional, commercially undistinguished names. In the field of country, Nashville reeled as Grammys for best male and female voices went to Lyle Lovett and k. d. lang respectively, both of whom travel in an orbit light years away from the music establishment. The biggest winner - hardworking blueslady Bonnie Raitt - was the longshot of the decade. To put it kindly, Sinead levelled the right argument at the wrong target. To put it rightly, Sinead's self-proclaimed role as the vessel of musical truth sets a new threshold in precocious arrogance. I still like the music. I'd just hate to be trapped in an elevator with her.