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Tuesday 2 December 2008

Shine on you crazy diamond

Amy Winehouse (Brixton Academy)

Amy Winehouse, like Janis Joplin or Ella Fitzgerald, is compelling and unforgettable. Forget The X Factor and all the plastic princesses we are offered; this dangerously laced vulnerability is rare and precious.

I first saw Amy Winehouse at the Isle of Wight festival in June; watching her arrive on stage in front of 60,000 people was like seeing Bambi bounce into a clearing to find himself faced with a firing squad. Terrified, she fidgeted and scampered on the spot, calming down only when she sang, and it looked as if it took every ounce of muscle and morphine she could muster not to run for the hills. Instead she stayed, belted out her songs with her peculiar blend of awkward physicality and utterly sensuous soul, and came back for more, leaning on Mick Jagger’s shoulder to sing with him the Motown classic ‘Ain’t too Proud to Beg’.

Here at Brixton, supported by her excellent band including the most fantastic jazz drummer, she delivers her songs with increasing verve as the evening progresses and the big drinks keep coming. The warmth and depth of her voice pours over and into every word and note so the raw space of the Brixton Academy becomes as intimate as a backroom bar in New Orleans, a spirit conveyed by the tasselled lamps and soft lighting of the jazz club set. Her cover of Sam Cook’s ‘Cupid, draw back your bow’ is bittersweet heaven, the first of several songs she dedicates to her husband Blake, clearly much on her mind as earlier in the day he was remanded in custody until January.

Given these trying circumstances, Amy’s aura of bewilderment is understandable, and the mood of the very mixed crowd is supportive. An early and abrupt exit from the stage after only four tracks meets with no howls of derision; the audience is biddable, and the band holds us until she returns, now winched into Betty Boop polka dots and involved in a busy relationship with her hair grips which continues through the set. Amy’s tiny stature under the hair and striking make-up is childlike, as is her between-song behaviour: she jitters and totters in tiny rushes, marching up to whisper something to a musician, appearing to flounce when he says no, but returning to the mike, calming and seeming to gain strength as she sings.

More articles from: Raffaella Barker | this section

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