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An artist and musician named Amy Winehouse died a few weeks ago.
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Since then there has been quite a bit of noise about it. These are the words that seem to crop up most often: drugs, music, alcohol, death, cure, habit, shame, pity, talent, genius, addict, clean, rehab, therapy, media, pain, attention, scrutiny, suicide.
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Winehouse created songs and performed them, songs that really struck at people. She also had a penchant for addictive substances, and struggled to achieve an inner mental balance.
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One of Winehouse’s most lionised tunes is called ‘Rehab’. For all intents and purposes this song has been deemed and actually seems to be markedly autobiographical with its references to drugs, dependence and death.
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They tried to make me go to rehab but I said ‘no, no, no’
Yes I’ve been black but when I come back you’ll know know know
I ain’t got the time and if my daddy thinks I’m fine
He’s tried to make me go to rehab but I won’t go go go
I’d rather be at home with ray
I ain’t got seventy days
Cause there’s nothing
There’s nothing you can teach me
That I can’t learn from Mr Hathaway
I didn’t get a lot in class
But I know it don’t come in a shot glass
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said ‘no, no, no’
Yes I’ve been black but when I come back you’ll know know know
I ain’t got the time and if my daddy thinks I’m fine
He’s tried to make me go to rehab but I won’t go go go
The man said ‘why do you think you here’
I said ‘I got no idea
I’m gonna, I’m gonna lose my baby
so I always keep a bottle near’
He said ‘I just think you’re depressed,
this me, yeah baby, and the rest’
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said ‘no, no, no’
Yes I’ve been black but when I come back you’ll know know know
I don’t ever wanna drink again
I just ooh I just need a friend
I’m not gonna spend ten weeks
have everyone think I’m on the mend
It’s not just my pride
It’s just ’til these tears have dried
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said ‘no, no, no’
Yes I’ve been black but when I come back you’ll know know know
I ain’t got the time and if my daddy thinks I’m fine
He’s tried to make me go to rehab but I won’t go go go
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Winehouse passed away by herself, in her apartment, in her bed.
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An artist and musician named Elliott Smith died in October 2003.
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In the years since the same words that have been used to sketch Winehouse, mentioned above, have been used in just about any dialogue about Smith. Drugs, music, alcohol, death, cure, habit, shame, pity, talent, genius, addict, clean, rehab, therapy, media, pain, attention, scrutiny, suicide.
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Smith created songs and performed them, songs that really struck at people. He also had a penchant for addictive substances, and struggled to achieve an inner mental balance.
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My favourite Smith tune is called ‘King’s Crossing’. For all intents and purposes this song has been deemed and actually seems to be markedly autobiographical with its references to drugs, dependence and death.
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The king’s crossing was the main attraction
Dominoes falling in a chain reaction
A scraping subject ruled by fear
Told me whiskey works better than beer
The judge is on vinyl, decisions are final
And nobody gets a reprieve
And every wave is tidal – if you hang around
You’re going to get wet
I can’t prepare for death any more than I already have
All you can do now is watch the shells
The game looks easy, that’s why it sells
Frustrated fireworks inside your head
Are going to stand and deliver talk instead
The method acting that pays my bills
Keeps a fat man feeding in Beverly Hills
I got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity
And I get my check in from the trash treasury
Because I took my own insides out
It don’t matter ‘cos I have no sex life
And all I want to do now is inject my ex-wife
I’ve seen the movie and I know what happens
It’s Christmas time, and the needles on the tree
A skinny Santa is bringing something to me
His voice is overwhelming, but his speech is slurred
And I only understand every other word
Open your parachute and grab your gun
Fall down like an omen, a setting sun
Read the part and return at five
It’s a hell of a role if you can keep it alive
But I don’t care if I fuck up
I’m going on a date with a rich white lady
Ain’t life great?
Give me one good reason not to do it
(Because I love you)
So do it
This is the place where time reverses
Dead men talk to all the pretty nurses
Instruments shine on a silver tray
Don’t let me get carried away
Don’t let me get carried away
Don’t let me be carried away
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Smith passed away by himself, in his house, by stabbing himself in the chest with a kitchen knife. His girlfriend was in the shower.
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In probably his most well-known work, a book titled Suicide, Émile Durkheim wrote, “Not every suicide can therefore be considered insane, without doing violence to language.”
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Language is, for want of a better phrase, the best thing in this world. It is the bridge, the river, and the space in between. Both Winehouse and Smith were fluent in the language of music. Smith was also gifted in the language of words – evidence of this can be seen in the lyrics above, with its layers and its phrasing and its stark naked vernacular.
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It might be possible to do violence to language, but language cannot ever be entirely killed, and this fact is an affirmation of everything quotidian.
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