The Vanishing of Amy Winehouse

Joni.

Tina.

Kate.

Ani.

Patti.

Janis.

These women were real singers, not one-hit wonders who cashed in their fifteen minutes of fame and disappeared. They were giants who left behind big landmarks that cast long shadows: The Hissing of Summer Lawns, Private Dancer, Hounds of Love, Not a Pretty Girl, Horses, and I Got Dem Ole Kosmic Blues Again, Mama!

It's not a list that anybody can join. Hustle might get lucky once in a while and pick the lock, but talent will kick the door wide open. No, to be on the list, you have to be a visionary. Unique, stubborn, brave, opinionated, and willing to challenge your audience.

I'm sorry, Britney. Uh-uh, Beyoncé. Go away, Gwen.

Amy? Amy Winehouse?

Hmmm. Maybe.

Amy is a British singer/songwriter who has already released two critically-acclaimed CDs, Stronger Than Me and Back to Black. And you know Amy spent her childhood listening to treasured LPs of Nina Simone, Abbey Lincoln, and Dinah Washington. However, she's not another generic singer-for-hire dutifully mimicking from the Cole Porter songbook. Unlike Diana Krall, who is a tall cool pitcher of iced tea with too much sugar, Amy is a shot glass of Jack Daniels, no chaser.

But I didn't want Amy on the list. Why not? Because I was angry at her.

Callous as it sounds, I was dismissive and indifferent when I first heard about Amy Winehouse's problems. Y'know, the usual stuff you see in the tabloids: the ever-present glass of booze in her hand, incoherent at interviews, not showing up at concerts. Unfairly, I assumed she was going to be another casualty of the "sex 'n' drugs 'n' Rock & Roll" lifestyle". Oh well, it's her choice.

Fuck it, I thought to myself. The silly little bitch will either figure it out or she won't. Compounding my idiocy, I placed Winehouse in the Bad Girls Behaving Badly Club, sharing headlines and rehab stories with whiny losers like Nicole, Lindsay, and Paris. I was having one of my rare Republican moments and I'm ashamed because, of course, people and things are never that simple.

What changed my mind was the "Before" and "After" photographs I saw of Amy Winehouse's drastic weight loss, and I realized that other things were going on in her head. I realized that the troubled British singer was a victim of the cruel propaganda from the Body Nazis who torment women with in this culture, and Winehouse was just doing what she was told to do. Guys in Rock & Roll can get away with having a beer guy. Women can't. When Ann Wilson from the group Heart gained weight, she remembers being harassed by audiences, the record company, and her own band. Eventually, Ann got a surgeon to put a big rubber band around her stomach. Winehouse just used alcohol, cigarettes, and heroin. Some idiots probably called Winehouse "chubby". Oooh, scary!

Dangerous? Oh yeah. Look what it did to Karen Carpenter.

I think the female artists who survive this are the ones who learn how to ignore the bad noise outside. What "bad noise", you ask? The nasty verbal assaults that screamed Joni was "Too Intellectual", Tina was "Too Loud", Kate was "Too Pretentious", Ani was "Too Butch", Patti was "Too Old", and Janis was "Too Ugly". The only voice worth listening to is the Muse inside of us. It's the only voice that will tell the truth.

So... does Amy belong on the list?

No, not yet.

Let's see what Amy is doing five years from now.