It is that one shot. You know the one—the stark, pale face of Sinead O’Connor against a dark backdrop, those eyes that seem to see right through the screen, and then that single tear. It’s arguably the most famous music video moment of the 1990s. But while the visuals are iconic, the heavy lifting is done by the nothing compares to lyrics that tell a story of grief so specific it becomes universal. Most people think of this as O'Connor's song. It isn’t. Not originally, anyway. It was written by Prince, a man who famously didn't like to give his best work away, yet somehow this one escaped the vault to become a global phenomenon.
Music is weird like that.
The Secret Origin of a Heartbreak Anthem
Prince wrote "Nothing Compares 2 U" in 1984 for his side project, The Family. If you listen to that original version, it’s… different. It’s got a heavy 80s synth-funk vibe, a saxophone solo that feels very of its time, and a vocal performance by St. Paul Peterson that is perfectly fine but lacks the raw, bone-deep ache we’ve come to associate with the track. Prince recorded it at the Flying Cloud Drive Warehouse in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. He was in a prolific bubble. He was basically a hit factory at that point.
Legend has it he wrote it in about an hour.
It didn't become a hit then. It just sat there on a self-titled album that mostly funk completionists own. Then came 1990. Fachtna O'Ceallaigh, Sinead’s manager, brought the song to her. She didn't just cover it; she gutted it and rebuilt it from the inside out.
The nothing compares to lyrics shifted from a funky lament to a funeral dirge for a dead relationship. When she sings about counting the days—fifteen days and seven hours—it doesn't sound like a songwriter trying to find a rhyme. It sounds like someone staring at a clock in a room that’s too quiet.
Dissecting the Poetry of Loss
Let’s look at that opening line. "It's been seven hours and fifteen days since you took your love away." Most pop songs deal in vague generalities. They talk about "forever" or "the night you left." Prince, through Sinead’s delivery, gets surgical. The specificity of the time—seven hours—tells you the protagonist is literally counting the minutes. It’s obsessive. It’s the kind of math you only do when you’re spiraling.
Then you get to the lifestyle changes.
She talks about going out every night and seeing all her friends. She talks about "doing whatever I want" and "choosing the flowers that I plant in the backyard." On paper, this sounds like freedom. It sounds like the "I’m doing great" post you put on Instagram after a breakup to make your ex jealous. But the lyrics immediately undercut it. "But nothing, I said nothing can take away these blues."
The contrast is the point.
You can have all the freedom in the world, you can rearrange your entire life, you can buy all the flowers in the nursery, but if the person you want to show them to isn't there, the garden is just dirt.
That Verse About the Doctor
There’s a weirdly grounded moment in the middle of the song that most people gloss over. "I went to the doctor and guess what he told me? Guess what he told me? He said, 'Girl, you better try to have some fun no matter what you do.' But he's a fool."
Honestly, it’s a bit funny. It’s such a "dad" piece of advice. Just go out and have fun! It’s the most useless thing you can say to someone in the throes of clinical-level heartbreak. By calling the doctor a fool, the lyrics reject the "get over it" culture. It validates the idea that some losses are too big to be fixed by a night out or a prescription for "fun."
The Prince vs. O'Connor Tension
Prince was notoriously protective of his work. While he reportedly liked the fact that the song was a massive hit—it made him a lot of money in royalties, after all—his relationship with Sinead O'Connor was, well, explosive.
In her memoir, Rememberings, O'Connor described a late-night meeting at his Hollywood mansion that went sideways. She claimed he was "creepy" and that they ended up in a literal physical altercation. Prince, being Prince, never really gave his side of the story in detail, but he did start performing the song live much more frequently after her version blew up.
If you listen to Prince’s live versions (like the one with Rosie Gaines), he leans into the soulful, gospel roots. He makes it a big, soaring production.
Sinead did the opposite.
She stripped the nothing compares to lyrics of their production armor. She left the vocals exposed. There’s a catch in her voice when she hits the high notes in the chorus that feels like a physical sob. That’s why her version won. It wasn't about the music; it was about the vacuum left behind when someone leaves.
Why We Still Search for These Lyrics
In the age of AI-generated pop and TikTok sounds, the nothing compares to lyrics remain a benchmark for "real" songwriting. People search for them because they need to know if someone else has felt that specific brand of "nothing."
It’s not just a breakup song.
For Sinead, it eventually became about her mother. She lost her mother in a car accident when she was young, and she later admitted that during the filming of the video, she was thinking about her. That tear wasn't planned. It was a genuine reaction to the words she was singing. When she says, "All the flowers that you planted, Mama, in the backyard, all died and withered away," she changed the lyric from Prince’s original "All the flowers that you planted in the backyard." Adding "Mama" changed the entire DNA of the track for her. It turned a song about a boyfriend into a song about the foundational loss of her life.
The Cultural Weight of a Single Song
There are very few songs that can be identified by the first three notes of a synth pad. This is one of them. It has been covered by everyone from Chris Cornell to Aretha Franklin.
Cornell’s version is particularly haunting. He stripped it down to an acoustic guitar and a cello. Where Sinead’s version is fragile, Cornell’s is heavy—a weary, gravelly acceptance of pain. It’s fascinating how the nothing compares to lyrics can accommodate so many different types of grief.
- Aretha made it a soulful powerhouse.
- The Family made it a funk-pop experiment.
- Sinead made it a psychological profile of depression.
- Chris Cornell made it a modern folk tragedy.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Meaning
People often think this is a "romantic" song. It’s really not. It’s a song about the stage of grief where you’re still in denial but the reality is starting to leak in. It’s about the realization that you are fundamentally changed by another person’s absence.
"I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant, but nothing... I said nothing can take away these blues."
The song argues that "things" and "experiences" are hollow without a witness. It’s an anti-consumerist take on love. You can’t buy your way out of the seven hours and fifteen days. You just have to sit in them.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers and Writers
If you’re looking to truly appreciate the depth of these lyrics or if you’re a songwriter trying to capture this kind of magic, here is how you should approach it:
Listen to the versions in order. Start with The Family (1985), move to Sinead (1990), then listen to Prince’s own live recording from the Originals album. Notice how the tempo and the emphasis on certain words change the meaning of the story. The Family version sounds like a complaint; Sinead’s sounds like a confession.
Pay attention to the "silent" spaces. The reason the nothing compares to lyrics work so well in the O'Connor version is the space between the lines. Don't just read the words; listen to when she stops singing. The silence is where the listener inserts their own grief.
Watch the "Prince: Originals" documentary footage. If you want to see the technical side of how the track was built, looking into the 1984 sessions at Flying Cloud Drive gives you a glimpse into Prince’s workflow. It’s a masterclass in how a great song can exist in a "rough" state for years before finding its perfect vessel.
Analyze the "Mama" variation. If you are performing or analyzing the song, decide which version of the "backyard" line you are using. The choice between a romantic loss and a maternal loss completely shifts the emotional gravity of the second verse.
The legacy of the song isn't just in its chart positions or the awards. It's in the fact that thirty years from now, someone is going to get their heart broken, they’re going to look at the clock, count the hours, and realize that Prince and Sinead already wrote the map for where they are.
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Nothing else really compares to that.