So did Amy Winehouse walk off stage last night in Brighton, leaving her backing singer to take over proceedings? Yes, she did. Did she do this because she's all whacked out on killer drugs and that? Well, no. It's part of the show, you see. It happens every night. That's the bit the tabloid newspapers, desperate to keep alive their tawdry story of a talent gone to waste, won't tell you.
Did the audience boo? Yes, some of them - before she appeared. Because she was a bit late. But then they cheered, and danced, and snogged each other and generally had the time of their lives being entertained by the greatest singer of her generation. Again, you probably won't read that in the papers.
(Article continues below...)And just to get the disappointment over all in one go, she didn't fall over, she didn't openly snort suspicious looking white powder, she didn't babble incoherently... If that's what you were hoping for then move along, nothing to see here.
At some point during the opening number, Amy did something extraordinary with her voice. We can't begin to understand what, but whatever it was hit us squarely between the eyes then simultaneously expanded into our chest and juddered down our spine, before fizzing into our kneecaps and turning whatever substance that keeps our legs upright into the consistency of chocolate mouse. And the really surprising thing was that this was during 'Addictive', arguably the only ropey song on 'Back To Black', and certainly one we usually skip.
Amy was doing what she's done since we first saw her in 2003 - deconstructing her own songs, stripping them down, playing with the rhythm, discovering new pain in the memories that form the words and letting every bit of hurt out in a sound not only unrivalled by any singer today, but one that now places her alongside her idols: Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington...
It was the realisation that we were in the presence of greatness being great that made the Brighton show so special. During a wound-raw 'Some Unholy War' (Amy back playing guitar thanks to encouragement from Babyshambles) we took out our pen and paper and wrote "we don't know how lucky we are". Because this is music above and beyond anything that can and should be written about by tomorrow's chip wrappers.
This is not a soap opera, this is soul.
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