Strum and coke

It's always so tempting to go for that second satsuma. The first one you had was quite small but sweet and perfect, so you reach for another which is larger and will last longer, but it's never the same. Nice enough, of course, but maybe it's a little bit squashed or just blander, so part of you ends up wishing you hadn't bothered.

I must admit it was not with satsumas in mind on Saturday night that I went to see Amy Winehouse for the second time this year, but by the end of it, that's what I was thinking about. I had been a little concerned that I may well be tempting fate by double-dipping though. The first concert I saw was at Somerset House way back in July and had been quite a (deliberately) short show. Amy was en forme. Her crazy husband was at the side of the stage willing her onwards. She belted out those perfect, pithy soul songs one after another, like Aretha Franklin's bra strap pinging loose at the end of a long day.

Saturday night was however, a different affair. I arrived at Hammersmith around 8pm. Advance word had been good from the Brixton Academy show she did two days before, so I was pretty up-beat about the prospects for this one. And all this pre-amble sounds like I am about to decimate this show, which is not really the case, but there was one really big problem, which I suspect Amy sensed immediately: the audience were not on her side. This was because, after (my) arriving (and even at that point the Apollo was full of people who had arrived before me), Amy did not then appear on stage for another two hours and fifteen minutes.

Yes, we had Remi Nicole, who was actually very good, particularly Rock 'n' roll, which I knew from Popjustice. But a support act is just that, not the main event. After Remi departed, soul classics and hip-hop chooooons blared out on the PA, one after another, for ages. Time ticked by. Pretty soon it was 9.30. It was all standing downstairs, where I was (as it had been for the PSB show in May) so my back began to ache a little. People got a little restless. And pissed on cheap warm beer. As is my wont, I began to look at the audience and was a little taken aback by the peculiar people all around me. Women were tattooed, had back-combed hair and heavy make-up. The (self-confessed) coke-fuelled lush who started chatting to me "I laaaaaaaave mah gay mates" looked like she might be Amy's husband's prison warder in her day job. I had made my way down to the front and the people surrounding me were reluctant to give up their good spots, but being good Amy fans, needed a crafty fag, so most were smoking, to my dismay.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Ten o'clock came and went. The gaps between the songs were very brief, some segued end to end. And it was just as well because people would have filled those silences with boos and jeers. The crowd mentality was taking over. And Amy Winehouse was taking the piss.

Then, just like that, she arrived. It was 10.15pm.

It was the same set she delivered in July, only this was a very different affair. I should say first that when she was good she was great. She has the thing. I couldn't take my eyes off her, as she preened her huge polyester beehive and fiddled with her teeny pink bra. Forget Aretha, this was one piece of lingerie in serious distress. She sings, and the sound that emerges is broken gin bottles, tear-smudged eyeliner and empty cans of Ellnett. But this was a woman all at sea. Pasty, sweaty and making only seventy percent of the words, she was off her game. Part of me felt like a 1800s circus voyeur who knew no better, coming to see an bear, bated and in distress.

This audience needed impressing. She had to work hard for the applause but it was like she felt she deserved it, (unacknowledged) two hour wait or no. She left the stage abruptly three times. At one point the bass player said something, she looked alarmed and distressed, and she ran off, to him clearly saying "come back!" The second time, she said "would you like to meet the band?" (the only real words she properly addressed to the audience aside from 'this is for my husband' before Wake up alone), then departed to let them introduce themselves, muttering under her breath as she stalked off, "I'm almost done anyway." The audience held their breath, but she returned and a brilliant Back to black then a most unexpectedly shambolic and incoherent version of Valerie, followed. The latter song she didn't finish, running off, leaving the final Valleeerreeeeeeee to her stunning backing singers (see the clip below for what I mean about them - just brilliant - they are half the show).

Roadies pulled a red curtain across the stage, as if to say, "leave! there's nothing more to see!" and the house lights came up. The show had lasted a scant seventy minutes. Which begs the question: should there have been a show at all? Personally, I think she should have left it, pouring her thoughts and feelings into a notebook. Heaven knows with the drugs, the booze and the husband behind bars, she's living the life. There's stacks of material for that third album. She should call her AA sponsor and Mark Ronson and get into a recording studio, before she tarnishes the magic permanently.

Amy Winehouse Back to black (Live in Amsterdam, 24.10.07)

Comments

[Tony]

I failed to get a ticket in the end. My brother said it was 'uncomfortable to watch, and she seemed obsessed with fiddling with her hair and shoes, but when she opened her mouth - boy can she sing! Amazing'. Considering this is from someone who goes stir crazy waiting for a bus, let alone 3 hours for the main attraction to appear on stage, I am stunned.

[xolondon]

My thing is this- that her label should pull the plug on this tour. People are coming to see a trainwreck. I cannot think of an artist more teetering on the brink of death than Amy (not even whatsisname- he just bounces back like a cartoon). She may be saying, "No I must sing!" but she is not in a frame of mind to make decisions.

The whole thing is so upsetting that it makes me run away. I still feel sad about Jeff Buckley! Am glad I did not live in the era when all the stars died (Janis, Morrison, Jimi).

[TRICKY]

Tony: I am glad I went and everything, because the good moments were worth seeing, but in truth, I probably should have followed advice and remembered fondly the show we saw at Somerset House. It made me realise how together she was that night, and how, er not, most decisively, she was on Saturday.

XO: agree with all this. But perhaps she's in shrill diva "I know what's right for me and I am not interested in your advice" mode, a la B.Spears? There must be people at her label keen to maintain their investment to album three rather than flog this dead horse of a tour.