Amy Winehouse 1983-2011

The great thing about people like Amy Winehouse is that they are original and true: not just in what they do and what they present to us but in what they are. And what they are may even be partly very bad, as long as there is also something very good and they can also be confused and hurt and sore and even somewhat lost, as long as they remain true. Most modern 'celebrities' are fake: from their silicon breasts, to their reformed teeth, and cut-about faces, to their soggy brains and their silly social-climbing.

Amy Winehouse was one of those people who are night-riders, on a death drive. I admire her guts to tell everyone where to get off; her talent; doing what she wanted to do, bloody-well regardless; her refusal to compromise herself. She also had a wild and extravagant kind of beauty; which no amount of tacky tattooing could defile.

OK, she made cash and was a 'celebrity' but I have the feeling that she was a reluctant one: unlike so many others: no voice (in any sense); no 'look'; nothing: cultural blankspots, with amazing bank accounts, for being nobodies, from nowhere, seducing a generation into believing that they 'have' 'It'. There are too many fake 'celebrities' and too few Amy Winehouses in this sorry world. The sad thing is that the fakes go on and on and on and the Amy Winehouses suddenly fade as the morning star, in the face of the sun.

I certainly raise my glass to you, Amy Winehouse. You might be glad to know that, in fact, I raise it several times.

And the Southern Cross burns brighter tonight.

It might be the thought of you.

It might just be the booze.

But, as you might have said: "Who gives a f***?!"