Back To Black: Reflections On The Exit Of Amy Winehouse From Center Stage

Back to Black is a very nearly perfect piece of pop. It is the very last album that I bought in CD format & the very last album that I listened to as an album, songs in the order chosen by the artists & producer. This album was on continual repeat on the stereo system at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia for most of 2006, one of the best years of my considerable life. Rehab was my anthem that summer.

"They tried to make me go to rehab," wails Amy Winehouse on the opening track & first single from her 2nd & final album Back to Black. It's not typical pop song pablum, but Winehouse was not a typical pop singer. Winehouse held a reluctance to embrace the monotonous realities of overproduced, hip-hop inspired 21st century pop music. I thought of Winehouse as the new Dinah Washington. She sang about her problems, but she won't give a shit what you think of them. I appreciate that.

Winehouse, was soul, jazz, & blues with a bottle of booze. She gave tribute to their influences, with Winehouse's lyrics featuring shout-outs to Ray Charles, Donny Hathaway, & her producer, Mark Ronson.

Winehouse's sound was soul, girl group, jazz music & grownup, she imbued her music with a surprisingly genuine soulfulness.

Ronson's production provides a lot of Back In Black's wit: The old school sound of Me & Mr. Jones  juxtapositioned with the lyric:"What kind of fuckery is this?", another of my mantras from summer 2006. How could I ever resist her perfect pop sound coupled with profane interjections like: "He left no time to regret/ Kept his dick wet" are only an occasional thing as she travels a well-worn lyrical path to both clinical & romantic rehabilitation.

Songs like Love Is a Losing Game are full of regret, even if Winehouse won't wallow in self-pity. In Wake Up Alone, she lets a former boyfriend know delicately that her the night sweats:"make me drip for him tonight".

Winehouse was blessed a brassy voice that transformed mundane sentiments into powerful statements. She was heartbroken, but she used the ache like the ruthless recipient of resentful hurt.

Her talent stopped me dead in my listening tracks. I wasn't surprised by her passing, but I was sad. I would have wished for another Winehouse opus... just one more.

 

He left no time to regret

Kept his dick wet

With his same old safe bet

Me & my head high

& my tears dry

Get on without my guy

You went back to what you knew

So far removed from all that we went through

& I tread a troubled track

My odds are stacked

I'll go back to black

We only said good-bye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

& I go back to...

I go back to us

I love you much

It's not enough

You love blow & I love puff
& life is like a pipe

& I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside

We only said goodbye with words 

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

& I go back to

Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,

I go back to

I go back to

We only said good-bye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

& I go back to

& I go back to black

Winehouse

2006