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Amy Winehouse

Here’s something that infuriates me, constant references to the destruction of Amy Winehouse. No

matter the sentiment of the writers, there’s always the suggestion of the vices that killed her. The brilliance of Amy has outlasted her sins. Must we always  display her failed attempt at life management and existence? Some life forms that choose or get chosen to grace this planet  can do so for only so long, you know. Amy is one of those.

Her name trends occasionally and I catch up on the works of her Foundation or some pending movie talk & studio music releases of lost songs. It’s just weird to me how some speak out of both sides of their mouth about her soul. Always a flash of faulty- to litter our minds about the beautifully afflicted who were otherwise fucking lovely. But am I doing that here?

Amy wrote and arranged, styled and sang her ass off in life. There is no more need to be shoved in the dunce “corner" for dying on us. She was honest. She was blunt. We were thoroughly entertained that she bruised easily. We were as worried about her about as much as we were worried about Whitney when she married Bobby Brown. #iAM not convinced of that. We waited to see them both crash and burn. 

My contention is that Amy’s light was born to burn-out after an astonishing twenty-eight years -incandescent. Her musicology are the lumens for listeners.. not critics.  It is lasting and provoking, and fucking enjoyable. Even relevant, ten years later, and ten years more.

My own daughter is twenty-eight, now. She was the one who made me hear Amy, while DVD shopping. (Remember those days?) Rehab was playing. The clean cut.  We ended up adding the Back To Black [Explicit] CD to our shopping cart.  Of course, that “explicit” tag stood out to me, as the mom of a ’tween. In the car on the ride home, I opted not to patrol her listening. This thing by Amy was art.

Rolling Stone wrote beautifully of Amy’s Back To Black virtues, as derived from her life: "Amy Winehouse’s Back To Black: 10 Things You Didn’t Know.” These anecdotes are  art -in written form. Worthy of Amy. I would love to write for them.

I first blogged about Amy on July 23, 2011, here. I remember wallowing in my shock when the news hit the fan. Reminding fans, Ya'll knew this was coming. I lamented again, here in the same month, the same year. The pelting of her self-destruction enflamed me then, as now. During the short-time she lived, she never disappointed my senses. I never mistrusted her. Not her appearance. Not her lifestyle. Nor her vibe. I don’t glorify her addictions or how they came to be. I just know they were not who she was. Her death, though a tragic loss. It. Was. Just. Her. Time.

I’m getting back my Rolling Stone subscription. I miss reading from the real of music entertainment sources. I’m about to play Amy’s F-me Pumps song. And if you’re inclined to join me, listen in on this Amy/Dinah Washington cover of Teach Me Tonight.. If only Phoebe had known her.

Poetic Memory #5
Artist:     Amy Winehouse
Song:      Back To Black
Who/What/When/Where/Why in no particular order - Does it still do-me-that-a-way?
      Plano, Middle school mommy blogger days
Back To Black? No. 
Rehab? The Best Remix. Yep. 
Or on the flip side, (There Is) No Greater Love 
and.. this video makes me smile.. Tony Bennett & Amy Winehouse Body and Soul. Go!


Anyone can teach you about love.  I can make you good at it.

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