Monday, July 25, 2011

regarding Amy Winehouse.


Amy Winehouse died over the weekend. The resulting mockery has struck me as weird and insensitive. I'll admit that even I cracked a couple of jokes over it (Junky singer dies a junky death at 27? Who would have thought?), but for a singer with such a slim discography, people sure are determined to rip her to shreds. I blame "Rehab;" if Winehouse hadn't been so frank about her drug use, maybe people wouldn't be so set on mocking her passing.

But then, Winehouse easily spent more time in the limelight as an object of ridicule than adoration. In the four years since her breakthrough sophomore record Back to Black, Winehouse made news as a professional fuck-up, not as a musician. Other artists took her knack for controversy (Lady Gaga) and retro-soul (Duffy) and forged more stable careers. The world moved on, occasionally bringing up the latest Winehouse debacle (bad implants, bad romances, bad habits) for laughs.

Personally, I feel bad for Winehouse and her family. Drug addiction is like a kind of cancer; it goes into remission but it lingers, waiting to come back. I'm not going to pretend I suddenly care about her music - despite my sudden love of '70s soul, I'm still a punk writer - but I certainly still mourn the passing of another human being.

I doubt the last years of her life were good. I hope she's now at peace.

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