Amy Winehouse, the 24-year-old British singer and songwriter who captivated music lovers in 2007 in ways both wonderful and calamitous, embodies pop's most seductive qualities - genuine soul and big trouble. This year marked the US release of "Back to Black," Winehouse's second album, a deep, witty collection whose lead single, "Rehab," is about not going.
In addition to a star-making record and six Grammy nominations, Winehouse's year has included alcoholic benders, a drug arrest, a slew of no-shows (which were, arguably, preferable to her recent spate of fumbling performances), and tabloid photos that surface almost daily of the artist ambling the streets in her undergarments, or with white powder caking her nostrils, or bruised and bloodied.
She's a train wreck. Poor girl needs help. But we also wonder if - like so many before her - Winehouse is one of the rare musical birds whose wounds and frailties are part and parcel of her artistry.
Winehouse is the latest in an esteemed succession of troubled talents, from Billie Holiday and Janis Joplin to Shane McGowan and Pete Doherty, living unhinged lives that we publicly condemn and secretly, collectively mythologize. We love our brilliant messes. But channeling personal turmoil into great art requires a certain functionality, and "Back to Black" is a perfect storm of real feel and studio finesse.
Winehouse is the very definition of a natural: endowed with a gritty, soulful voice and a screw-it-all attitude. The stars aligned when she hitched her wagon to producer Mark Ronson, who transformed the sound of familiar touchstones - vintage soul and streetwise girl groups - into loose-limbed R&B for a new generation.
And an old generation, too. "Back to Black" is one of those increasingly infrequent offerings that transcends the usual demographic divisions. Like the last all-inclusive anthem on record, OutKast's 2003 hit "Hey Ya!," "Rehab" appeals to pop fans, indie kids, soul survivors, and urban aficionados. Inky beehives, trashy tank tops, and thick eyeliner were the hot costume this Halloween. Winehouse's name was floated as the new Bond girl. Clothing designer Karl Lagerfeld just anointed her his new fashion muse.
Much of "Back to Black" is about the artist's tortured romance with now-incarcerated husband Blake Fielder-Civil, and the abuse they inflicted on each other and themselves. It's classic material, and assuming you believe her, the album alone leaves little doubt that Winehouse was already slipping off the rails before she suddenly became a star. Of course, it's impossible to say; at least on this side of the pond, nobody was watching. But listen to her seasoned, streetwise delivery; check out her naked-lady tattoos and missing teeth; and ponder titles like "You Know I'm No Good" and "Addicted," and it seems fair to assume she had done a fair bit of hard living before the paparazzi arrived on the scene.
In recent months, though, Winehouse seems to be losing her grip. The tabloid culture we live in doesn't help. There were no YouTube clips of Kurt Cobain or Chet Baker collapsed in corners. Johnny Cash didn't have to contend with a 24/7 media trained in perpetual pursuit of the next tawdry revelation. Train wrecks of yore were allowed to self-destruct in relative peace and quiet, and the lucky ones got it together in time to live another day and make another record. The records, it hardly needs noting, were built of torment, miraculously transposed to verse and chorus. And if loving those records makes the audience enablers, welcome to the dysfunctional relationship between tortured artists and the fans who adore them.
Earlier this year Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson, whose band, the Roots, performed with Winehouse in Europe, was quoted as saying, "Once I heard [her music], part of me felt like: 'Don't rock the boat. Let this take its course 'cause that way you'll get great music.' And part of me wanted to reach out to her. I caught myself saying, 'I'm going to rue the day when Amy gets it together.' "
And therein lies pop's timeless conundrum, replayed this year in the sad story and scintillating music of Amy Winehouse.
Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com.
