Amy Winehouse in Copenhagen

Before seeing Amy Winehouse at Zulu Rocks in Copenhagen, I only knew that she sings “Rehab” – and that she has a stunning voice. When the curtain went up, I expected to see something quite different. I couldn’t imagine that the bearer of that voice could be so frighteningly wasting away. Physically, she was hardly there. She kept pulling up her pants because they couldn’t stay up on her tiny waist. Vocally, there but unable to follow the music. She went through about 4 large Cokes, broght on stage by a nervous staff member. When she bent down to take the drink or tie her shoelaces (the latter, at least twice), she could barely get up to the mic in time for her entrance.

The last time I saw someone move that way was when a family friend’s relative stopped by our house, completely high, a few months before she fell off a cliff. But there was something so much more terrifying about watching Winehouse in that state on stage, rubbing her noise and rocking jerkily to the music. She couldn’t focus on the audience. Her very charismatic backup singer was dancing overtime to keep the energy level up on stage. Once, he asked the drummer to wait on starting the song and asked Winehouse if she was alright. And during the last song, she casually turned and walked off before it finished. There might have been more in the repertoire but she seemed barly able to stand.

There were so many little girls in the audience and it was pretty terrifying to imagine what could be going through their minds. The audience was fairly quiet – scared and confused, I imagine – and that was probably the worst reaction for Winehouse to see. She seemed to be longing for a booming response, and she just couldn’t generate it. For some reason, someone in the front was waving a pirate flag (or whatever you call the black one with the skeleton).

For my part, I’ve never been so deeply and personally affected by a performer. Stupidly, a part of me wanted to get back stage and talk to her. She looked so completely lost on stage, and when she sang “I don’t ever wanna drink again, I just need a friend” it occurred to me that at that height of celebrity, it’s possible to feel that you don’t have any at all. A few nights ago I dreamt about having a new anorexic friend whom I was trying to get to eat French yogurt. In the dream, it worked, and I woke up wishing I could somehow do the same for this girl I’ve never met.

After the show, I’ve spent quite a few hours listening to her music on YouTube and watching her videos (particularly the very witty “F**k me pumps“). And I’m amazed by her talent. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it in any other singers in my generation. She’s funny and charming and strangely beautiful, and the last thing you want is for that talent to disappear because of god knows what she’s gotten herself into.

I’ve just learned about her marriage and matching arm scars…what a damn mess. We all know that there’s nothing you can do if someone doesn’t want to go to rehab…but letting her on stage in that state…it seems to be a complete exploitation of her talent, and a complete disregard for what she really needs.

Last year in my celebrity culture courses, we discussed that celebrities are often proxies for our behavior, doing the things that we dare not try ourselves and living out extremes so that the rest of us may see the results and decide whether we want to make the same choices ourselves.

Amy, please stop proxying and start enjoying your life.