YESTERDAY was the 10th anniversary of the death of Amy Winehouse. I’ve just sat through another documentary that spins your head and heart around, making you wonder who (and what) was to blame for the singer’s terrible, sorrowful demise.
But before I re-enter that maelstrom, I am happy to begin in a more grounded place. In the London leg of my life, I do my vocal rehearsal days in a complex called Mill Hill Studios. There is an iconic stencil of Winehouse on the wall outside one of the rooms. Turns out, this was the place she started putting her bands together, and did so till the very end.