Who remembers the first time they heard Amy Winehouse? I was not around for the Kennedy assassination or for man landing on the moon, but I was around for Amy Winehouse and I think the moment I first heard her music there was a massive smack in my face that something big had just happened, like a musical lunar landing.
'Did she really just say that?'
'What a dynamo!'
'Does she write this herself?'
'She's just 23?'
These were the kind of things that swirled around. How could a woman of such tender years have so much gusto, such a dark soul, so layered and textured and how could whatever was in her soul leave the depths of her body and come out in song like that, as though there were no buffer between the very essence of her and her song.
Two documentaries that have grabbed me this year were both on Jazz singers. The first was that of Nina Simone which I found hauntingly brilliant. It is called What Happened, Miss Simone? You can see it here.
The second, is 'Amy', which is everything you ever wanted to know about Amy Winehouse beyond the hype and the media attention. It is such a personal and thrilling journey of a woman whom I must have played so many times as a former DJ that I have lost count. And, I am inclined to agree with Tony Bennett's statement in the film that she is one of the greats, up there with Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday and might I add Nina Simone.
As the documentary progressed I could not help but recall visions of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me - where the Log Lady stops Laura Palmer outside the roadside bar and says:
When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy.
And, like Laura Palmer, Winehouse called her old friends just before she died to say she wanted to come home and back into the fold. I cannot tell you how much this raised the hairs on the back of my neck when I heard this.
If you have time to spare, watch 'Amy' here .
"Tears Dry On Their Own"
'Did she really just say that?'
'What a dynamo!'
'Does she write this herself?'
'She's just 23?'
These were the kind of things that swirled around. How could a woman of such tender years have so much gusto, such a dark soul, so layered and textured and how could whatever was in her soul leave the depths of her body and come out in song like that, as though there were no buffer between the very essence of her and her song.
Two documentaries that have grabbed me this year were both on Jazz singers. The first was that of Nina Simone which I found hauntingly brilliant. It is called What Happened, Miss Simone? You can see it here.
The second, is 'Amy', which is everything you ever wanted to know about Amy Winehouse beyond the hype and the media attention. It is such a personal and thrilling journey of a woman whom I must have played so many times as a former DJ that I have lost count. And, I am inclined to agree with Tony Bennett's statement in the film that she is one of the greats, up there with Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday and might I add Nina Simone.
As the documentary progressed I could not help but recall visions of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me - where the Log Lady stops Laura Palmer outside the roadside bar and says:
When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy.
And, like Laura Palmer, Winehouse called her old friends just before she died to say she wanted to come home and back into the fold. I cannot tell you how much this raised the hairs on the back of my neck when I heard this.
If you have time to spare, watch 'Amy' here .
"Tears Dry On Their Own"
All I can ever be to you
Is the darkness that we knew,
And this regret I've got accustomed to.
Once it was so right,
When we were at our high,
Waiting for you in the hotel at night.
I knew I hadn't met my match,
But every moment we could snatch,
I don't know why I got so attached.
It's my responsibility,
And you don't owe nothing to me,
But to walk away I have no capacity.
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day
But I'm grown,
And in your way,
In this blue shade
My tears dry on their own.
I don't understand
Why do I stress a man
When there's so many bigger things at hand.
We coulda never had it all,
We had to hit a wall,
So this is inevitable withdrawal.
Even if I stop wanting you,
A perspective pushes through,
I'll be some next man's other woman soon.
I shouldn't play myself again,
I should just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men.
So we are history,
Your shadow covers me
The sky above,
A blaze,
I wish I could say no regrets,
And no emotional debts,
'Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets
So we are history,
The shadow covers me,
The sky above,
A blaze that only lovers see,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day
But I'm grown,
And in your way,
My blue shade
My tears dry on their own.
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day
But I'm grown,
And in your way,
My deep shade
My tears dry on their own.
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day
But I'm grown,
And in your way,
My deep shade
My tears dry
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