RIP Amy Winehouse: Eternal

I remember the first time I heard Amy winehouse. I was on a college trip to London, sitting in the Hawley  Arms pub, downing pints of Guinness and popping coins into a juke box. When her music hit me I didn’t feel like myself. I was lost somewhere distant, doing a lazy sway to the type of sound that just seemed to pulse through my veins. “Who is this?” I remember shouting, “Who is this on the radio, she’s amazing.” A man leaned over to me and said her name is Amy Winehouse, she lives around here. I remember repeating her name, Amy Winehouse. Stuck on the tip of my tongue, there was a sweetness about it, mixed with an element of tragedy, that I wouldn’t come to understand until the media storm. I downloaded her album Frank and listened to it constantly, even when I returned to the states. 

By the time “Rehab” hit the U.S Charts and she became a household name, I was already head over heels in love with the way that she moved me. She could take something as honest and simple as a one night stand, an infidelity or a trip to the local weedman and turn it into something genius, unlike anything I had ever heard before. When her album Back to Black was released I don’t think I listened to much of anything else for the next two years. I always found solace in lyrics, beauty in the way she sang them and a pain that I both longed for and knew I would never understand. I expected her to be a soulful Motown lady and I couldn’t believe that such a big, powerful and completely original voice came from a tiny, Jewish woman from London. Her albums helped me to get through some very difficult times, provided the background for some of the best memories I can ever recall and reached me in a way that no modern artist has been capable of.  

While going through one of the most difficult breakups I ever had, I questioned myself, the type of person I was becoming and how I would deal with the situation in a non-destructive way. I listened to back to black, over and over and over again. Her sound filled my room and I let the tears out, the feelings emerge and I felt every single lyric that Amy sang, radiating through my body like celestial light. It was healing,it was soulful and it was exactly what I needed.

When I heard the news of Amy’s death, I was at work. My friend Matt, sent me a message and ironically “Some unholy war” was playing on the radio. I thought at first maybe it was some sort of cruel prank, but knowing he loved her as much as I did, I couldn’t do anything but cry. As selfish as it may sound, I can’t help but feel that the world may have been cheated just a bit, that Amy had so much more life and inspirational writing left inside her. That being said, I also acknowledge that she had a lot of pain, a lot of hardship and many personal demons that I could only begin to comprehend. I don’t know why she is gone. I feel a piece of me is missing and I think that is what truly great artists do. They take a piece of you with them, they pull you in and unfortunately sometimes in their absence, that piece never returns. I know I’m not the only one, there must be millions of people feeling like they’ve lost a close friend, someone who was so real,raw and talented. My mother told me a great artist exposes their guts and honesty but Amy Winehouse laid everything bare. She was my favorite artist, my inspiration, my idol, my therapy at times, and a beautiful soul, completely misunderstood. RIP Amy. I will never forget you or the music you wrote and I am forever grateful for what you shared with me.