I might be the only person on the face of the planet who was turned on to Amy Winehouse by my mother!
It's true. About a month ago, when she was asking me to show her how to work her new ipod (one of her more schlubby characteristics) she also asked me to download some music for her.
"What about Rehab?" she said.
I had vaguely heard the name Amy Winehouse before, but nothing more than that she was a young celebrity with crack problems. I must say, though, when I heard her sing "Rehab" I was simply floored. Every bit as good, in my mind, as the best stuff of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas or The Ronettes.
Having since listened to the rest of Back to Black, I only continued to be impressed. This is a woman who doesn't just have a good voice -- she has the gifts of a real artist. And that beehive hairdo! I loved it. (And she's Jewish!!)
It's really too bad she's destroying herself. This piece in Rolling Stone by Claire Hoffman is a pretty good picture of a tailspin. And not in a cute, schlubby, ooh-I'm-a-big-slob-who's-just-in-her-twenties-and-getting-it-all-out-of-her-system sort of way. The description of her apartment reminded me more of Augusten Burrough's Dry when he comes home from rehab and sees the hundreds of liquor bottles littered on the floor of his apartment and wonders how he could have lived like that.
You've got to snap out of it, Amy! This schlub wants to hear more!
