Posted in Originals

Amy Winehouse – A Star Burnt Out

In her last days of life, Amy shared her inner yearnings to write music again. Words were flowing out of her which had a theme of Rap Battles but written in her Classic Elegant Jazz style. She wished to speak of the inner fight she was fighting at the time against her drug addiction.

Maya Angelou once said that Always believe what people tell you about themselves. they are telling the truth. But when they tell you about yourself, beware. They are never completely right.

So instead of talking about all the things people had to say about Amy Winehouse the Diva who finally succumbed to her Demons – I would like to talk about the Demons from the Diva’s Mouth herself. But when you hear her talk, they are not so much as Demons as they are just another Face of the Diva herself. It is who she always was. It is what makes her the Diva of Jazz, Love, Heartbreak, Determination and also, most heartbreakingly, Death.

Amy recounted her first taste of Complete Freedom at the age of just nine years old when her parents split and she suddenly felt like she ‘could do anything, wear anything, talk anything’. She was introduced to Jazz by her father and instantly connected to the spontaneity of the Class Art form. In her short life of 27 years, she went on to create a niche for herself with songs that were anointed every bit with her Spontaneous Self. That is what she loved about Jazz – how close it was to the Real person behind the music.

After finding disappointment in the avant garde Jazz music, the young teenager decided to write her own music. She knew it was going to be challenging and which is exactly why she wanted to do it. She saw herself as a very driven and motivated person, always inviting challenges. And so she wrote down legendary love lyrics of Stronger Than Me, Will You Love Me Tomorrow, Back To Black, Tears Dry On Their Own.

Her songs had her most difficult, most troubling experiences turned into cathartic Jazz melodies. She healed the wounds her life gave her by mastering the art of letting her music speak for her deepest self and share it with the deepest selves of so many others who felt the same at some point of time in her life. She wanted little kids and young girls to listen to her music and be inspired to write music that spoke of who they were and did not attempt to imitate any other artist in order to be able to play or write music.

That said, she did believe in listening and learning from the Great of the Music she loved. But it was more like learning all the rules of the Game and then Playing them your Own Way. It was like learning the Language and then telling your Own Story because absolutely no one could do that for you – No One could tell what was your story.

Her songs were not meant to merely ring in heads like earworms and gain popularity. They were meant to soak into the skin of the listener through its sharp words and frank emotions; moving deep in to Touch the Soul. Soul – the shy, wild animal of the Inner Jungle. She would attempt to word her own Soul wrenching experiences which were like drifting clouds that covered her skies and stopped the Sun from shining on her Skin.

She realised merely wording these Clouds out was not enough which was like touching the clouds to move them away. They would not, they would yield at the touch and remain exactly as they were. They had a potential, they had Vapours. They needed to be allowed to Condense from being gaseous white clouds to liquid waters. So that they serve their purpose, deliver the rains on the Dry Lands beneath before dispersing to let the Sunshine in once again. That was the only way the Soul Wrenching experiences could be dealt with. And she mastered this Art early in her life when she would turn to her guitar with a heavy heart and spend hours playing and singing with it; only to leave lighter and feeling good.

Such was the relationship of this young woman to her music, as pure as a Nun has to her God, as an alcoholic has to his Bottle of Wine. Pure, Addictive, Redemptive.

Despite her fierce motivation to have a mind of her own, have music of her own, have jokes of her own – she was a tender, maternal soul inside. This is more often than not an anomaly in the women of our world where the fierceness and the motivation is usually seen as Manly characteristics. Even women who display such bold facets do not let their tender sides reveal. But Amy was an exception, a uniqueness in herself for she was fiercely motivated to bring out her Love Serenades for her man, out into the best kind of Jazz music she could create. Like a Manly hunt for a very Womanly passion – she outstood the class of musicians as well as people around her.

And probably this became the reason for her destruction as well for nobody knew how exactly to tell a woman who had her Brilliant Mind set on her pursuits of love? Especially when she had taken it up too as a challenge? Even if she knew it was toxic to her? Even if she and everybody knew it was only going to destroy her, forever?

Everybody saw her story. Everybody cared for her. Everybody wanted someone to save her. And yet 27 was the age she succumbed to the death her toxic love left behind for her.

She died a woman whose story was told to the whole world and yet nobody really understood her, ever. Or someone would have pulled her out of the mess she created for herself. Someone would have established an authority over her adamantly determined mind and pathetically addictive heart with a simple ‘No’ or a ‘Stop’.

‘No, you shall not destroy your life anymore.’
‘Stop burning yourself out like this. Stop burning out so fast, so soon. Stay with me, a while longer. We will die together, one day.’

It was not the music that killed her. It was probably her stupid, stupid heart that was suddenly inclining itself to a kind of drama that would end up killing her. The drama of being Hopelessly in Love even if it was an Unrequited Love.

Oh, if she could only know. She was an Old Soul who was expecting love from a man whose soul was barely that of a Teenager. He was not ready for the kind of plunges she was ready to make into the Self Professed Profounds (ocean) of Love. He was too small, too tiny for her Large Anachronistic Jazz Heart. He was a teen pop sensation that rose and fell like the multitudes of waves on the ocean surface. But she, she was a dweller of the Ocean Beds where the SIlence Resides. The kind of Silence which is the Mother of all great Music, Rhythms, Melodies, Words.

For when the Silence, the sheer emptiness, craves to fill itself with Words or Melody; it is guaranteed the Quality is the highest. For a craving like that would not compromise for anything that was more blissful than the bliss of Silence.
She was the Goddess of that Bliss. She let her songs speak out from the Silences of her mind. I know because they are definitely better than silence. They successfully shut down my raging insides and or dizzied buzzing chattering mind with the clarity and frankness of her words.

She may have lived a short life of Addiction to Jazz, Words and Drugs. But she lived a complete life in that short span. We literally saw her grow up, in full media sight, from a teenager obsessed with Jazz and a promise of becoming a starlet, to becoming the Star at her Fount of Youth, to reinstating her Stardom at Mid Age, to slowly shrinking into a quickened Old Age brought about by her broken heart’s grief and psychedelia and finally to a natural Bulimia-ridden death.

She leaves behind a brief legacy of music that solely belongs to her – songs no one could have written but Amy Winehouse, story no one could have told but Amy Winehouse.


Her spirit continues even as she is no more with us. The girls she wished to reach out to with her music have continued her legacy dedicating their flourishing careers and healed broken hearts to her Soul’s Rain. Even her elegant Samurai Battle Raps are brought to life by one such young girl who grew up on Amy’s words to write her own story. We know it as Rolling In The Deep and the young girl is Adele.

~ Amy Winehouse (14th September 1983-23rd July 2011) ~

This is one of the founding rules of Physics I learnt as part of my high school physics. It was not so much a foundation for my Physics knowledge as for my will to look for Philosophy in Physics. At the time I told myself, ‘I am a process in this universe, I exist. So I must definitely be increasing the randomness of the system. I am a favourable process. I must not contemplate suicide.’

Years later I apply the same idea to the events that lead upto to one of the most unexpected and catastrophic elections in the history of democracies. The US Elections 2016 saw the rise of a man to the post of President, who defied every foundational principles of the country of America.

Considering the immense outbreak against this decision despite the old man being elected with a clear majority, made me inquisitive about the nature of the process that led to his election. Did the process increase the entropy of the system we lived in? Did randomness increase? One might think immediately it did . After all it was creating a lot of chaos. But there is a difference between disordered chaos and randomness, randomness has a key word associated to it – freedom. Freedom, of the particles of the cutlery to break away, of the heated liquid particles to vapourise. These process could not be reverted in their processes according to the Second Law.
But from what I was hearing about the general temperament, people were actually consoling each other to fight for their freedom even more now. There was a clear discrepancy. So I had a deeper thought.

I began to contemplate the nature of freedom for the country of United States. The story of this great nation unfolding before me in bits and pieces. When the ambitious White men of Europe set out to Conquer the whole world, they stumbled upon many distant and drastically different cultures. They had more sun, less ice, more brown earth, less white ice, more flowing rivers, less frozen lakes, more windows for sun, less fire places for heat.

This was a process where randomness increased and so did freedom. Men separated by geographical distances and having built their own separate lifesetyles in their geographies were being forced to meet new geographies and lifestyles. While earlier they lived in their lands self congratulating and oblivious to any foreign cultures, competition of another race, culture, lifestyle, geography had dawned upon them. This was definitely a process that increased entropy.

It absolutely seems to be a spontaneous mixture in retrospect. The modern men of Europe came with dreams of a modern world. They were invited in with open hands and hearts. They may have extended a hand of business but they intended a world domination, to convert the rest of their brothers into themselves or help them to come closer to their own way of life. Little did they know that what essentially was happening was a silent conspiracy of the world itself, to bring these long lost brothers together.

For they were brothers, separated a long time back, like separately placed leaves on a huge tree. Some nearer to the trunk protected from the sun, some at the crown burning in its heat. The new lands may have taken toll on their appearances but they were all leaves of the same tree. The sun may have turned some black, the ice may have turned some white, the desert may have turned others brown – but they were part of their adaptive capacities.

They had incredible stories to share of their journeys and the reason behind their changed appearances, eating habits, wheel types, food and things that did not change at all like their women. It would take them a while to be able to do that because they had forgotten each other now and looked distinctly different now. But they would come around it soon, the black the white the brown – all return to this grand reunion and share their high school stories. And America was going to be the venue, the Reunion Farm House – away from the rest of the city, the school, the houses and parents.

Men would go back to being kids and recognise each other despite not meeting for so long. They would listen to stories and connect the dots in their heads to the dots before them. The chmabers of hot and cold airs would be connected is and there would now be only warm air now. Just according to the Law.

But these recent elections were like police on the raid, parents pulling leashes on these kids having a Reunion Celebration after centuries. It is standie doing at the gate and asking each one to return to where they came from and forget all about the reunion. It is like asking the mix of hot and cold air to unmix itself because it was the Right thing to do, for the welfare of the Farmhouse and all the kids in there.

Little do they know about the Second Law and how it takes External Energy to carry out process that defy the law. How they would need to exert special forces (Cognitive biases, external heat of violence or simply physical enforcement) in order to Unmix this mixture and to keep it un-mixed Forever. Especially since the Mix would always mix itself again and again. Especially since these men and women have now looked into each others eyes as a long lost brother, an equal, tasted their souls, made music, build computers, danced to rhythm with each other. It would be a whole lot of effort to keep them apart for very long.

Unless ofcourse the fears of old scientists does come true and they can create, what they called, the Maxwell’s Demon. This little beast who would stand at the door of the two chambers of hot and cold air – policed different ones into different chambers without any external heat or energy from the outside. A hypothetical creature that could actually break the Second Law of Thermodynamics had probably come to life and we may have witnessed a breeakthrough in Physics on the day of US Elections 2016.

Donald Trump and the Second Law of Thermodynamics