Amy Winehouse
I felt a blow to my heart when I heard the news that Amy Winehouse died Saturday. I’m hurt by another good one going too young. It’s nearly always the good ones; the sensitive ones, the ones who actually possess talent. For the introverts and the gifted care enough to pursue a talent beyond expectation. It is they who cannot handle the misery of an insidiously blanching spotlight, the shallow obsequiousness of a newly self-congratulatory career, stranded family members, or middle-school-styled vicious criticism (especially now in an anonymous internet world.) It is usually the sensitives who seek refuge in escapism of drugs or self-sabotage. It is the humble and the seekers that are inexorably drawn to deep music, for being there is a kind of proximity to Divinity. It is the artistically ‘touched’ that then feel especially like prey among predators. Or likely, they as restless searchers are completely bored by the monotony of the road, the vapid tv show appearances, the repetition of the same songs, the need to look good on camera when feeling otherwise. How does a young woman from working-class London deal with such an ascent? From attending performing arts high school, loving jazz and humbly acknowledging the masters to being in tabloids so young? One self-sabotages or escapes through drugs. We’ve seen it too many times. I’ve said quiet prayers for Amy before this happened. I wished her to find a strength beyond her margins. And that hit song “Rehab”. Why did it have to be that song? It only fueled everyone’s cynicism.
There is very little artist management of quality in the music business. There is very little sense of preserving an artist’s personal life, nurturing an artist’s emotional health or mentoring young people to become individuated as business people, parents, success stories in many realms of their psyche. Often many would rather a singer troubled, skinny, notorious and on heroin than deal with a plus-size in a photo shoot. Many prop an artist up in front of an audience when he or she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown or unconsciousness. Rather than an emboldened artist advocating for their time off for Self or family, many would prefer to work with an attenuated scarecrow easily manipulated by his or her dependency on cocaine or a myriad of prescription meds. (How much easier to control the stakes and make money that way.) There are too many first-hand stories I’ve heard of too many artists corroborating this. There are too many deaths of too many good ones. It makes me sick in my stomach to hear of a “27 club”, for it only serves to romanticize this sad trend of more gifted sensitives. The music industry needs a collective overhaul. We expect accountability in other businesses. Why not the music business? It just can’t continually contribute to the downfall of artists as they grind down human beings regurgitating their hits for sales. It needs long-term vision to elevate true artists to long-term success; catalog success; 60 and 70 year-olds singing in Carnegie Hall for their retrospectives. We collectively need to support true artists for their voices, not their looks or notoriety. We need to educate young artists to be their own advocates. We need to listen again like our grandparents did, not watch reality shows. We need to refrain from publicity that supports stalking, harassment and the inevitable deterioration of the mental health of our talented society members. If we may glean anything from this tragedy, may we remember the need to be a human race of greater empathy. Amy Winehouse, may you rest in peace and may your incredible voice live on. Much love to you, dear soul.
