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This was the start of a fond fascination with Amy and her music for me, and I'm guessing, many others.
"Frank" provided an adept, acerbic-witted and musically-informed insight to Amy's talent, but "Back to Black" really was her epic moment. It was, and is, an illuminating rumination on love, loss, hurt and turmoil to a wonderfully arranged musical backdrop. Though Amy almost definitely polarised opinion, she also spanned generations in her following - "Back to Black" provided a soundtrack to heartbreak, discovery, redemption... filling floors and becoming a staple of Karaoke machines in the process.
Having tried, unsuccessfully, to catch one of her elusive concerts over the years, I maintained a level of intrigue, intertwined with a level of terror, in Amy Winehouse. This woman - two years younger than me - had appeared to enter a zone of deconstruction from which few ever return. The songs weren't important any more - the ceaseless coverage in trashy magazines and red-tops took precedence - and Amy became a media rag-doll, tossed about on headlines of drug-abuse, blood-stained ballet pumps and shambolic concerts.
This time last year, I woke from a post-wedding recovery nap to hear Reuters reports of Amy's death. It may sound naive, but I couldn't believe it - however unsurpising it was. Though her seemingly chaotic private life had eclipsed her enormous talent, I somehow felt [or at least, hoped] she would battle on and reconnect with her musicality. Reading the recent Q Magazine article, it seemed Amy's "before her time" resonance was reflected in many ways. The world became a threatening place for her, and she sought refuge in things and places which didn't nurture her, but instead drove her into self-loathing and darkness. I cannot put into words just how tragic it is; that she died in a haze of alcoholic poisoning when, as all reportage has inferred, her life appeared to be turning a corner, for the better.
There is then, immense poignancy to a statement [roughly paraphrased] from an interview with Amy following "Frank"'s release - when answering a question related to what she wanted to achieve with her music career, she spoke of her frustration at the thought that she might die, and leave no musical legacy. To not have touched anyone with her music. I've often wondered if Amy had a sixth-sense, that she knew, somehow that she would burn bright, but burn fast? Whether she could tell that her music would leave an indelible imprint on many, but in the process - she would deconstruct.
The only certainty is the reality - we'll never know.
We'll never know what might have been if Amy could have hung on a bit longer; if she'd reignited that genius writing talent, and that sultry, magnificent vocal range, so reminiscent of the blues and jazz singers she loved. The aforementioned Q article talked, very aptly, of Amy's ability to inhabit a song... and there's no clearer an example of this than her duet with Paul Weller for "Don't Go To Strangers".
A year has passed, and still, I find myself listening to her songs, cognisant of a sense that she isn't gone at all. I can't explain it. Perhaps it's the fact that Amy decided, without realising, there was one thing she couldn't do, and some things she didn't know how not to. One thing's for sure, there are many of us touched by her musical legacy... and we always will be.
"I tread a troubled track/my odds are stacked/I'll go back to black"
Back to Black, 2006
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