"Kill all my demons and my angels might die too." ~Tennessee Williams
Amy Winehouse's brief candle blew out forever last week, and we are all a little poorer for the loss of such a talented young artist. Her candle was, I thought, a beautiful candle. Somehow, it seems that Amy's demons--dark and frightening though they were--are what gave such soul and passion to her music.
In artistic terms, she accomplished enormous success in a short period of time. She was catapulted to stardom and then a stream of lights fell behind her as her demons continued chasing her. Alas, she did not outrun them.
The world has been harsh with her. The day after her death, I was standing on the check-out line buying a magazine with her photo on the front. It was a way for me to say farewell to her somehow. The young clerk looked at the magazine cover and said with an almost malicious tone that, "She was just a dope addict," as if somehow this made her death less tragic or less worthy of sympathy. It made me sad.
The public sometimes devours the very creatures it wants to take pleasure in. Amy gave pleasure to her listeners over and over again, yet her every flaw and problem was magnfied and judged harshly by the self-same public.
It seems like people wanted to kill Amy's demons for her. When she soulfully sang,"They're trying to make me go to rehab, but I said no, no, no," everyone loved her. Yet, the song reveals perhaps what Amy felt even from the beginning of her fame--that people wanted to take away the darker aspects of her somehow, and that it would make her better, cleaner for public consumption. How CRUEL!
I contend that her demons are what made her beautiful and they are what fueled her art. In attempting to kill them, she lost her angels as well as her demons. It is a tragedy. And I wish she were still alive to go on singing her melodies.
Fly away home, sweet Amy. "May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." (Hamlet)
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