Amy Winehouse (1983 – 2011)

I wanted to write about Amy Winehouse and what her death means to me, but I’m not sure that’s exactly what I wanted to express at all. Aside from which, I don’t want to turn this blog into an obituary site for every celebrity that passes way before what I may consider their time.
I think what I’ve decided to say, whether through fault or design (both, if I’m honest) will be more of why her death matters to anyone who has loved her music that isn’t a personal friend or family member. As a person Amy Winehouse spent far too much time getting shit faced in Camden to deserve all our unquestioning respect. Many people over the last few days have said that she had choices to make, and she made them; pity they turned out to be the wrong choices. Save your pity for those who die without a choice, was almost the message, indicating I should have concentrated by public lament on the tragic dead gunned down by a maniac in Norway (as if it was impossible and uncouth to share two lots of regret at the same time). True, they had no choice, and words don’t come easy to express how mind and heart numbingly shocking that has been.