The Curse Gets Worse: Amy Winehouse Passes Away at Age 27

It was another tragedy that everyone was expecting, yet stunned by.  Just this past weekend, Amy Winehouse’s pedestal crumbled from underneath her as she was found dead at her residence in London. Notorious for her sharp vocals, as well as her sassy attitude, she was undoubtedly the best jazz musician of the new millennium. With two albums and five Grammys to her name, Winehouse kept jazz alive in an age dominated by pop and rap music. Despite the fact that the official cause of death is unknown at this time, many people speculate that her drug addiction finally got the best of her. It seemed obvious that Winehouse was beginning to spiral downhill – she had to cancel her European tour last month due to her lack of awareness on stage (at a concert in Belgrade, Serbia, she was reportedly stumbling around stage and thought she was in Athens). To give Winehouse the benefit of the doubt, no drugs were found at the scene of her death, and her doctor claimed that she seemed relatively healthy the day before she died. Regardless of the cause of death, the world has lost another young musician at the ripe young age of 27.

 The number 27 should sent shivers up the spine of any music fan that knows her history (the “27 curse”). Where shall I begin?  September 18, 1970 – the world loses Jimi Hendrix. October 3,1970 – Janis Joplin dies. July 3, 1971 – Jim Morrison passes. All at age 27. Coincidence? Maybe. Freaky? Absolutely. What is it about that age that made all of these musicians kiss life goodbye? Have they overindulged in the life of fame and fortune one too many times?  Have they dug holes too deep for themselves to get out of? Could their bodies not handle the wear and tear of the toxins forced upon it? Or did the guy that lives upstairs just decide that they had no more left to give?

Strange, isn’t it? We know that people die. We hear about it 24/7 on TV. We see it in movies. We read about in newspapers. And then something happens like this happens we just kind of sit there with this befuddled look on our faces like “What? But (insert celebrity name here) was so feisty and full of life. They were so alive. This didn’t just happen.”  But it did just happen. Amy’s beehive hair and tattoo covered body was cremated and buried this Tuesday, and now we’ll never see her sassy soul sing again. However, we still have her records – which, of course the world seems to have just remembered that they exist, due to the fact that her album sales have spiked for probably the first time since she took home her five Grammys in 2008.

As always, society forgets the importance of something until its gone forever. This time last week critics thought of Amy as a washed up musician. Now that she’s gone, she’s a phenomenal jazz artist. It’s interesting what dying can do for you. It silences your critics, promotes your work and boosts you to unfathomable levels of fame. Too bad that you’ll just never be around to see it.

Tears and prayers to Amy Winehouse and her family and friends. She was the only musician to ever make my rock and roll soul enjoy jazz.


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