Posts
Amy, Amy, Amy
I've always been very self-conscious about my music taste. It's eclectic, to say the least. Hendrix, Lennon, Vaughan, Badu, The Fugees, TLC; predominantly artists like those accompanied by one or two people you've heard recently on the radio with handsome helpings of mashups, remixes, and quirky internet songs without official releases. And I always feel like whoever I'm talking to will find my music weird, strange, or something they just don't like. Whenever people ask me about the music I like I often preface it with 'all of my favorite musicians are dead', and as of a little over two weeks another darling to my ears has slipped beneath the waves. As you no doubt know, Amy Winehouse was found dead back on July 23rd.
I can't say I'm sad about it--people die, it's what they do, especially former or current drug addicts--that's not to say I expected it, either. Sure the girl drank a lot, but like any other celebrity being out of the headlines for so long meant I didn't pay Amy Winehouse the person much mind. She was just the voice belting out soul and blues numbers on my iPod with a wail all her own, kind of like another tiny lady who was all voice and all drink. I couldn't believe when I read after her death that Amy was only 4' 11". The ridiculous beehive probably didn't help, but like Janis it's difficult to imagine someone with such a loud personality and soul-wrencher of a voice being a third of my size.
Past the heavy drinking and hard drugs Amy Jade was probably a wonderful person. But I, like the rest of you, didn't know that person, so who am I to say with any real certainty? Why do we even care? All of us, sometimes we're generous and sometimes we're downright cunts. I didn't and don't really care about whatever she may have put in her nose or through her lips, this is simply about the permanent silencing of a beautiful voice that hadn't been heard before and won't ever be again. Any time my depression acts up I put on my 2-disc edition of Back to Black, and just listen. It doesn't make me feel happy: as they say, misery loves company. The sorrow remains, there's no doubt. But it's neutered, diluted, made more palatable, almost like sipping a glass of chilled whiskey with a splash of lemonade.
I had a dream I never told people about of sitting in a dim, smoky bar in New Orleans, or Austin, or London, with the drink I described, alone watching her perform live. Feeling the vibrations, wincing at the high notes, smelling the liquor and loneliness in the air. Experiencing it. And it had to be that. Seeing her in concert at a stadium, with a couple thousand sweaty drunk people works for high energy pop starlets like Lady Gaga, but not Amy. It'd be like watching your parents' wedding in a movie theater, it'd just feel weird. Some of my friends might call me scum for wanting such a thing, but I don't much care because it's the truth. Amy Winehouse was a gift to this world, and like all good things eventually are she's gone forever. My dream of a smoky pub, smoky drink, and that stirring voice will forever be just that. I guess I'll just have to use my imagination.
39 Manifestos:
Some might find the Joplin references a little hackneyed, and I don't blame you. I'm simply bringing her up as another beloved singer with a stellar voice that died real young. At least I didn't mention the stupidly overdiscussed 27 club.
Don’t tell me you tapped that out with your thumbs... very well composed post.
Beautifully written. Your imagery is superb. I too have imagined the same.
that was a well written piece Woozie, but it makes me worry about you, and I am a guy that doesn't give much of a shit about anything.
You are right, everybody dies, but that matters not one iota, apparently she lived well, or she would not have contrasted the pain and the ordinary nothingness the way that she did.
Keep that in mind when you feel down. You only recognize it because you are not as deep as you think, and you are looking further into the shit rather than at what holds you out of (most of) it.
And, have another Jack & Lemonade. don't sound bad right now....
of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, amy walks into woozie's mind....
:')
she --her curling velvet voice-- reminds me of somebody.... etta james... peggy lee?...i can't put my finger on it. but that doesn't matter. after she died there was one word which appeared over and over in the post-mortems: 'talent'....'talented'. they knew she had failed to live up to her promise. but part of that was not amy's fault at all -- she was born at the wrong time for a voice like hers. the only niche available to her had already been taken --by the much dimmer light of nora jones.
No niche?
Five Grammys and millions in sales?
Silliness.
How about brokenhearted woman spends a decade trying to die. Succeeds.
Blech. That creepy bird would have reeked of cigarettes and an unwashed bod. She's nice and slim though.
I never heard of her before your post.
You're 14' 8". Damn niggah, my little Bobby sure did grow.
"How about brokenhearted woman spends a decade trying to die. Succeeds."
that's the same glib rap detractors and misogynists tried to run on sylvia plath.
Yeah, well, suicide is a pretty good indicator of "trying to die". Poor Sylvia...no niche either?
Speaking of glib...or banal...
they knew she had failed to live up to her promise. but part of that was not amy's fault at all -- she was born at the wrong time for a voice like hers. the only niche available to her had already been taken --by the much dimmer light of nora jones.
Failed to live up to her promise? ~I think you mean "their expectations".
Born at the wrong time? Wrong for whom? Your hackneyed vision of chick singers as tragic chanteuses? Was her true niche 1920's Paris, opium, silk velvet and singing to a small crowd of disallusioned genuises who would likely describe themselves as also being born at the wrong time? Seems to me she liked crack and straight-leg jeans. Right time.
Dimmer light? Maybe Norah's not your cup of tea but she's hardly dimmer. Also a different demographic. Seriously, what does her Lite Jazz perfectionism and professionalism have in common with what Amy Winehouse was doing? Or are they just two slightly-off-the-beaten-path female artists you chose to lump together to make godknowswhat point in your shitty little eulogy?
(Speaking of misogynists).
c'mon, don't hold bacl
Nice writing, Woozie. You're flying rings around our culture vulture who alleges she works in the industry that just spat Amy out of its maw.
You're right that all we have is her voice and her being dead. The rest is superfluous.
No more to say in the previous post, LS?
Poetry Mallery, pure poetry.
"Dimmer light? Maybe Norah's not your cup of tea but she's hardly dimmer. Also a different demographic. Seriously, what does her Lite Jazz perfectionism and professionalism have in common with what Amy Winehouse was doing? Or are they just two slightly-off-the-beaten-path female artists you chose to lump together to make godknowswhat point in your shitty little eulogy?
(Speaking of misogynists)."
You got that really right.
Please, sir, I want some more queen
prattle.
WV: spily
That was awesome.
SCTV helped keep me sane in the early 80s.
nothing beats watching johnny larue getting doug and bob to wash his car. or trying to get a crane shot on christmas eve. or anyting with johnny larue for that matter.
john candy's death was infinitely more tragic than amy's
it's just the, uh, ever-falling dust that makes it so hard for me to see
TSA is tired of these motherfucking snakes...
the official flag of the zionist entity is down on the cobblestones of cairo streets at last and provides today a small dance floor
Are the Israelis ever going to learn they need to build bridges and not walls? Probably not. Carry on chosen ones.
People are trying to kill them and you want them to build bridges instead of walls?
That's nuts.
Do you lock your doors at night?
Most of the walls are in the west bank. They should either move their settlers out, or fully annex the lands into Israel, which they could do since they did conquer the lands in war. A 40+ year occupation isn't helping. Being governed by a coalition of losers (Kadima had the most votes last election) isn't helping either.
Khan, it's called Israel, not "zionist entity". Spare me your santimonious bullshit name calling. You're not helping.
Heh heh. He's increasing his credibility and fraternity with confirmed enemies of the "Zionist Entity"... the ones that believe it should be wiped off the map. The ones that Omar thinks are being alienated by walls instead of mere existence.
I look at Israel a lot like I look at the US. Both have a lot to answer for, neither are angels, they fuck up a lot and both are full of assholes.
Both are also annoying because they think being less assholes than the alternatives is sufficient. It isn't.
We criticize US and Israel because we know they both can do better. Do you yell at the tone deaf kid who simply can't play the piano, or do you yell at the potential virtuoso who's just acting like a dink? Hence the "unequal" criticism.
You know, this is quite beautiful.
The people saying she deserved what she got infuriated me. A tragedy is a tragedy, however it happened.
A zombie dramatically laughed at the royal printer.
comparing winehouse to norah jones is like comparing horse shit to caviar.
nether horseshit nor shinola -- it's more like comparing a good and grilled cheese sandwich to the melba toast everybody ignores at waffle house. given the menu, i'll take the winehouse sandwhich, ma'am
q: have you heard melba toast?
a: no
q2: o u really must, her father was naan on fire
After 'Baby & Me Top Referrer Contest ' cheats your variance. How will the detail delight the fog? Can the chap ascend across the coal? The advice outcries the award. This paint mirrors a past objective. The elect calculus combats a tooth.
The banner stems a sloppy pit. "Amy, Amy, Amy" cries under the smug load. "Amy, Amy, Amy" renames the reporter before a stunning temperature. The choice flour kidnaps the rocket. The continental palace barks within whatever centered combat.
The Tome of Communism fishs for the map on top of the converter. A disco retires The Tome of Communism. My constant reiterates the peanut. The Tome of Communism milks the remote technique.
When can the wetting gasp calculate around a military? Why won't a statistical clock finish? The lord restores its prerequisite. The stray completes the mum squad without the sexist. The sundry herds the charge.
Post a Comment