Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I don't usually use the word "bitch," but considering how much of a douche Amy Winehouse is, I may drop it here and there in this entry.
I need an intervention, but I don't I want one. I've been addicted to Amy Winehouse's Back To Black for just about a week now. I know it's old. Shoot! I've had it for over a year, but I inexplicably didn't spend much time listening to it until recently. I liked her singles, but somehow couldn't focus when I tried absorbing the entire CD.
Though she's obviously talented, I first noticed there was something about Amy when I heard "Valerie" off Mark Ronson's Version last year. And then there was her Grammy speech where she bigged up her man in jail. Still, at that point my liking her had little to do with her music. I just liked her like that. But I recently heard "Tears Dry On Their Own" while shopping for DVDs at Union Square's Virgin Mega Store and I think it did it for me. "Is that Amy," I asked my friend. It was. The trip lead to me revisiting Back To Black and I've been hooked ever since.
There's a feeling I struggle to describe when it comes to music. I usually say that I get lost in certain recordings. That's exactly what Amy does. Like, I forget where I am when I listen to her. I got it bad, man. I loves her. If she keeps it up, I may have to put her up there with my booty boo, Erykah Badu.That's saying a lot.
I already can't wait for the next album, but I'm concerned. I mean, this cock sucker is so reckless she may just not make it. And damn it, as much as I've been oding on Amy in the past week, life without her just seems unbearable right now. I need some fresh material. I'm sure she's offended one or three people in the past year, but I don't care as long as she keeps making dope music. So listen here, Amy. You can keep using dope. You can even smoke crack on youtube. You can punch your punk ass boyfriend, drive drunk, get arrested, spit on fans, skip your own shows, make allegedly racist videos, faint and get hospitalized, but don't you die on me bitch, you hear me? Don’t you dare kick the bucket. You owe me a couple of albums before you do.