I called Amy Winehouse la femme fatale in 2006, when most people never heard of her, certainly in the media. Now I am reading some superb reflections in the Guardian. Russell Brand writes a defining definition of addiction. I thought it was me or a particular addict that I met, but no, it seems universal:
“All addicts, regardless of the substance or their social status share a consistent and obvious symptom; they’re not quite present when you talk to them. They communicate to you through a barely discernible but unignorable veil. Whether a homeless smack head troubling you for 50p for a cup of tea or a coked-up, pinstriped exec foaming off about his speedboat, there is a toxic aura that prevents connection. They have about them the air of elsewhere, that they’re looking through you to somewhere else they’d rather be. And of course they are. The priority of any addict is to anaesthetise the pain of living to ease the passage of the day with some purchased relief.”
This “toxic aura that prevents connection” is addiction to the chemical substances and also the intoxication with the religious analgesic. It numbs the soul and human connections.
A superb review of the music by Alexis Petridis.
For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game
One I wish I never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand
Self professed… profound
Till the chips were down
…know you’re a gambling man
Love is a losing hand
Though I’d bet on blind
Love is a faith resign
Memories mar my mind
Love is a faith resign
Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game