Amy Winehouse RIP

It’s been more than a week since Amy Winehouse died, and I still don’t have the words to fully express what I feel about it.

When I first heard Amy’s “Back to Black” CD, I devoured its brilliant darkness, and played it constantly. But when news of her addiction became well-known (and fodder for the tabloids), I was no longer able to enjoy singing along to “Rehab”. In fact, listening to that CD in its entirety was something I found difficult to do in the past two years or so. I can sing every note, every word on that gorgeous CD, but it became painful to sing along. I have my own demons to deal with, and listening to Amy lay out her own, for the world to see, was just too much.

Whenever Amy’s songs would come up in my iPod shuffle, I would fast forward to the next song, hoping it would be something more upbeat, like Esperanza Spalding’s “I Know You Know”. I felt that by singing along to Amy’s “Rehab”, “Tears Dry On Their Own”, “Me and Mr. Jones”, et al, I was somehow adding to the collective energy of other folks singing along, and adding to her pain.

I’m not interested in discussing whether or not her death was expected, nor if anyone could have prevented it, or why people were upset that her death eclipsed the tragedy in Norway. I will only say that she was a real person, human, complex, and brilliant, and her talents will be missed.

Because I do want to honor her memory, I will share one of my favorite Amy Winehouse songs here,
“Tears Dry On Their Own”:

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