As soon as I heard the opening line of the news report, I knew the ending. "Amy Winehouse, the British singer who … " How else is a story like that supposed to end? I put my hand to my mouth and teared up a bit before the NPR reporter was able to say "dead at 27."
What a waste. What a tragedy. Every story has had pretty much the same angle, this tiny girl with a supernatural voice and chaotic personal life who became as famous for her exploits as for her talents. All true but way too simplistic.
I flipped around the top 40 and adult contemporary stations that played her music nearly nonstop when "Back to Black" came out almost five years ago, but couldn't find her anywhere. I did have to laugh, though, when I tuned to the local news station and heard them play the first few lines of "Me and Mr. Jones" unedited, "What kind of fuckery is this?" at noon on a Saturday. Did anyone catch it? Did anyone complain? Score 1 for Amy Winehouse.
The fantabulous Q magazine introduced me to Amy Winehouse. She was the talk of the United Kingdom long before the United States caught on. I was blown away the first time I heard "Back to Black," nudged by Q's recommendation, it's amazing mix of the Wall of Sound, 1940s supper clubs, "Little Britain" and the wrong side of the tracks. It was fun and cool and sad and stunning. She deserved every award she got for that record, and more.
It seemed that her triumphs and disappointments came in equal measure. As she swept the Grammys, she was banned from entering the United States to attend the awards ceremony. She had an inspiring whirlwind romance with a guy who turned out to be a junkie tool, selling her out from prison as she professed her love and devotion. Oh, Amy.
Because of her voice, her hair, her makeup, her slip ups, people couldn't help paying attention, diagnosing, weighing in, poking fun. She was built for the 24-hour tabloid world, seemingly the result of a scientific experiment where Ronnie Spector was crossed with Courtney Love to create a girl who would answer the dreams of both the music industry and the tabloid press.
They won, she lost. The pundits will gather, sharing their "educated" opinions on a girl they knew only from the TV, the grocery store checkout, but rarely from the music, except to constantly play the chorus from "Rehab." It's just so easy to call out someone who's fallen so far.
I didn't want to hear any of that yesterday, I just wanted to hear her. God bless KCRW for starting its Saturday afternoon music block with three Amy Winehouse songs, reminding everyone who was listening why we cared in the first place. Though the craziness kept her name in the papers, it was her dream-girl voice that got it there in the first place.
For her sake, and the sake of her family, friends and collaborators, I hope more people remember that. As for me, this is how I remember Amy Winehouse today, with my favorite song from "Back to Black."
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