I really thought this blog would be dead in the water, though I really didn’t want to stop writing. Life pretty much went to shit in a short amount of time and I found myself in a very sad, but transformative period of “starting over” with nothing but the love and support of some amazing friends and family. I’m still working my way back to myself.
I’m fortunate. Not everyone can be. We all have our demons and our addictions (as benign as they may seem) and if we make it through our time on this plane without letting them destroy us, we have to consider ourselves lucky. I wish there was a clear cure-all-excerise, therapy, sobriety, chocolate, laughter, hugs-but there isn’t. The most we can do is just try and fight and hope that at least if in the end we don’t ‘make it’, we did what we could to reverse our fortune. If we falter, we must forgive ourselves and keep trying as long as we have breath in our lungs and beats in our heart.
The constant throughout my (near) year long trial has been music, as always. My refuge and conduit by which I can express my emotions, make sense of what I’m feeling, and understand that others too have experienced the same sadness, heartbreak, and tragedy. Putting words and sound to one’s pain is no simple act; it can take away pieces of you that you can never replace, it can bring on emotions you feel you can’t bear, it can lead to destructive behavior.

I can’t begin to say I know what Amy Winehouse’s life was like, but I do know that life isn’t easy or fair for any of us. Sometimes things are just too much to bear and trying to separate yourself from those pains and problems, even just for a short period of time, can take their toll in ways you never expect, even when you know all the consequences.
All I know is that this woman was a powerhouse of talent whose words and sound brought me heights of happiness at her cheeky verses and great beats, and came down to my depths to commisserate when I was feeling my most heartbroken. For me, The past several months have been mostly Sade, MeShell N’degeocello, Bill Withers, Marvin Gaye, and Amy Winehouse playing while I just went through the motions of mourning and loss, strengthening and redemption.
I’m saddened that Amy Winehouse wasn’t as fortunate: to get past past the pain and the demons and addictions that seem to pass through other’s lives so innocuously. She truly was a unique voice and contributed a lot to pop and modern soul music in a short period of time. To hear Frank for the first time was a joy and it only amazed me that she was only 20 years old at the time. She talked grown woman shit that pop stars years her senior and with longer career-spans couldn’t (and still can’t!) express.
When word of her new album and US release/tour came out, I remember dropping everything to rush to the phone and score a table reservation for Joe’s Pub, one of her performance stops. I was still playing Frank like it had just dropped and “In My Bed” often had a spot in my DJ sets. I was really excited to see her live and hear her new stuff. I think everyone was surprised by her ‘look’-a definite shift from the slim, long haired woman from the “Fuck Me Pumps” video. The bouffant up to the heavens, the jailhouse tats (which I loved!), and the winged eyeliner definitely turned a few heads but when she started singing, it was truly a sight to behold. Afterward, I recall many people saying they felt she was ‘out of it’ and ‘on something’ during the performance. I just remember her having a drink nearby her and what I thought was just a case of nerves. She had little side chats with Mark Ronson (who produced Back to Black) between songs as he sat near her in the crowd and she begged off the cheers and compliments folks were giving her. Soon, word of her seemingly irrational behavior would become more commonplace even though she’d achieve great triumph in her many award nominations and wins.
The last few years seemed to be full of a lot of unfavorable news stories of her issues with drugs and alcohol and some people were just hoping she’d be able to kick and restore her mental and physical health and reclaim her spot as a top performing artist while others enjoyed the shenanigans of her downward spiral. The ride is over now and we have one less talent in our midst, hopefully now free from all things that tortured her during her short time with us on earth. I’m sure her third album, which had been submitted and reportedly rejected by her label, will be released posthumously, stories and rumors and details about her final hour will be written about while everyone who loved her and loved her music are left with questions that will forever remain unanswered. All we can do is remember and appreciate what is left, which is more than most of us leave behind when we pass on: a contribution to music that transformed a lot of minds, and helped a lot of people understand and channel their emotions and helped them feel everything but alone.
Thank you Amy. May you be at peace.
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