The poster child of wasted potential. I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech. I will be gone before you know it. Welcome to my world of sin and madness. Forever cursed to sound a little odd.
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Amy Winehouse sang of a deeply feminine suffering

Pop music had often cast women as sweet, bright creatures, but Winehouse’s lyrics revealed something mulchier, messier. Here was a woman who refused to conform – not in the eccentric mad woman in the attic mould of Kate Bush or Björk, but a woman who chose to live a little wild, follow her heart and sing of the simple stew of being female. Her songs were filled with broad talk, cussing, drink and drugs and dicks, songs that could hinge on one magnificent, unladylike question: “What kind of fuckery is this?”

August 4, 2011
6:18 PM
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#Amy Winehouse
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    Pop music had often cast women as sweet, bright creatures, but Winehouse’s lyrics revealed something mulchier, messier....
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    Yes, I loved this article. Oh, Amy…
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    Amy Winehouse sang of a deeply feminine suffering
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