The 27 Curse strikes again.

Amy Winehouse.  Dead at age 27.

Another talented self-destructive musician added to the eery list.

Well, sadly, I'm not shocked.  

I'm saddened though. You know I love my rock stars and musicians.  I have a ridiculous amount of admiration for people who can make music.  I might even have a clue about what makes them tick, even with my bad sense of pitch and inability to think up melodies.  I understand that creative drive.  I understand the rebellious streak that's never content to leave normality as it is.

I was just talking about her the other day with somebody who didn't get it.  "Why is she such a big deal? She's a wasted addict and a total mess."  That kind of thing.  And I replied something like, "No, she really is a big deal.  She's the real thing."  And also, "Man, I really hope she turns it around.  She's meant to be a star.  She's got so much left to do."

Because when she was good, she was very, VERY good.  She was sassy and unique and had a rich voice packed with attitude.  She didn't fit into either an older decade or the current one, which made her timeless in a classic way but also in a difficult, transient way.  

People who don't fit into this world full of rules have a hard time with life and the very concept of how to live. 

(Especially the brilliant ones.)

You'll be seeing all kinds of photos of messed up Amy.  

I'd like to remember her at her best.  

So if any of you out there happen by some strange chance to be potentially messed up cracked out confused frighteningly talented young musicians...

Just know that yeah, you're troubled and strange but we need you. Please stay off the junk and take care of yourselves.   

The Dead 27 Year Old Rock Star Club is big enough.  Don't join it.