I'm starting to sense that this might've been a suicide ...
I'm doubt we'll ever gonna find out if it was a suicide or not. She may overdosed herself intentionally or by accident. We don't even know her death has anything to do with drugs tbh.
I'm doubt we'll ever gonna find out if it was a suicide or not. She may overdosed herself intentionally or by accident. We don't even know her death has anything to do with drugs tbh.
I dont think I even want to know the autopsy report. Lets just let her rest in peace
Amy Winehousenever gave a f—k. Not about how she looked, not about what the press and paparazzi made her out to be-- sometimes she didn’t even give a f—k whether she was sober enough to remember the words to her own songs. But in an industry overrun with capitalist calculating and cookie-cutter pop tarts with more breasts than brains, Amy Winehouse was a breath of fresh air-- a raw, real, hard as hell and complicated as f—k bona fide artist who burned out before she could fade away. Sure, she was popular, but we all knew Amy was different from the Britneys and Kelly Clarksons of this world. Lady Gaga can talk all she wants about rock ‘n roll—Amy Winehouse was rock ‘n roll.
Born on September 14, 1983, Amy was raised in Southgate, North London, the youngest child of taxi driver Mitchell Winehouse and pharmacist Janice Seaton. Amy’s maternal side of the family was a virtual who’s who of local jazz musicians, and they instilled in her a deep love and respect for all the greats: Ella, Billie, Dinah, and, most of all, The Chairman of the Board. Expelled from school at 16, Amy’s big break came when her boyfriend passed an early demo tape to his A&R rep. A label bidding war ended with Winehouse signing to Island Records and releasing her debut album--the jazzy, Salaam Remi-produced Frank--in October of 2003. The LP was a tremendous critical success, nominated for two BRIT Awards and the 2004 Mercury Prize.
Even before her 2006 breakout, Winehouse was a lit firecracker waiting to blow. The press couldn’t get enough of her crude, rough around the edges lifestyle. Even her own management company pleaded with her to go to (you guessed it) rehab. Fueled by a newfound love affair with ‘50s and ‘60s girl groups (courtesy of new co-producer Mark Ronson) and her own painfully earnest songwriting, Back To Black was a transatlantic smash, nominated for no less than six Grammy Awards and selling more copies in America than any other debut by a female British artist… ever. Do you remember where you were the first time you heard “Rehab”? The swagger of those horns, the crunch of those Mark Ronson beats—and god, Amy’s voice! Every note dripped with the stale rot of a lifetime’s worth of half-smoked cigarettes and half remembered valentines. Nothing else on the radio came even close to touching it.
With no proper follow-up to Back To Black, the ravenous press turned their attention once again to Winehouse’s often shambled personal life. She married long-time boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil in May of 2007. A despicable Sid to her self-destructive Nancy, Blake was rumored to have introduced her to crack cocaine and heroin—for several years, the couple were a rampaging hellfire of domestic abuse, near-overdoses, and, in Blake’s case, jail sentences. The embarrassing paparazzi photos came swiftly one after another; to many, rumors of an in-progress third album were nothing more than set-ups to cruel, opportunistic jokes. We all snickered at her haggard, bony appearance and drug-induced stupors because, well, we all assumed--or maybe just hoped--that she'd eventually snap out of it.
The last image many of us will have of Amy Winehouse is her June 18th concert in Belgrade, barely standing and capable only of muttering the barest semblances of song lyrics. She cancelled the remainder of her European tour, slipping once again into isolation, away from the influence of worried friends and concerned family members.
It’s impossible to know exactly what drove Amy Winehouse to such destructive depths of self-abuse. What we can be certain of is that, had she cleaned herself up long enough to record another album, it would have sold millions of copies and delighted fans and critics alike. Why? Because Amy had one hell of a voice, and she sang from places most popular recording artists don’t even know exist. Amy Winehouse was the real deal— a woman who tragically couldn’t separate herself from the darkly funny and sometimes hard to stomach truths of her best songs.
Amy Winehouse never ********ted us. She gave us the only thing she had—herself, with all of her gloriously unapologetic imperfections on full, proud display. We won’t find another talent quite like her for a long, long time, I suspect. The world wasn’t prepared for Amy Winehouse… and sadly, she wasn’t prepared for it.
What would you prefer; she jacked up on 5 grams of crack and over-dosed or, she got drunk and had a seizure?
I want her last moment to be a semi-normal one. Overdosing will only make her death please those who mock her.
She was alone Friday night (and had been for weeks), and unusual noises were heard from inside her flat.
When her friend returned on Saturday morning, they heard crying.
We don't even know her death has anything to do with drugs tbh.
