How Should We Remember Our Fallen Stars?

25^th June, 2009. I’m relaxing at home after a stressful couple of weeks of exams. I get a text from my sister and, after opening the message, I don’t believe what I’m reading and instantly flick on a news channel.

Sure enough, Michael Jackson’s dead.

A similarly bewildering moment happened on Sunday morning, when, opening up my computer, social networks were trending Whitney. And another star had passed too soon.

One of the advantages of this modern society is that the integration of technology allows not only this quick relay of information, but in these cases, a sentimental outpouring of emotion when we lose an influential figure.

However, with these new mediums of information, what is appropriate decorum when talking of the deceased? When famous personas have had their lives taken under a microscope as public property, how should that public remember them?

Case in point: sitting with a friend in a café last July, the radio broke the news that Amy Winehouse had passed away. The reporter’s very next words were: “The troubled star, who was known for her drug addictions and love life…” as though her singing career did not merit a mention. Amy has been defined by her misdemeanours.

With the death of Whitney Houston, this act of remembrance is called into question once again. When looking back at such an iconic songstress, should we look to her rise or fall?

Without doubt, the talent of the young Houston cannot be denied. Hailing from musical genes, Whitney was signed at the tender age of 19 after a performance in a Manhattan night club. Her eponymous debut was the biggest selling album by a debut artist when it was released in 1985.

Houston enjoyed seven consecutive number one singles, surpassing the record set by The Beatles, and had notched up over 200million album sales by the late 80s alone. Yet eclipsing even all of these staggering achievements, the resounding number ‘I Will Always Love You’ is the biggest selling single by a female of all time (and is sure to notch up another batch of sales posthumously).

Serene images were shattered with Houston’s decline into abuse of crack cocaine and marijuana. Her tumultuous marriage to Bobby Brown constantly attracted headlines and her once famed voice was broken.

Yet, which era of the star’s life should the public focus on?

Unfortunately, intrigue and bad news are always awarded more coverage: these are the stories with more layers, more depth, high interest and, immorally, make people feel much better about themselves. Even if Whitney had not been signed, there is the possibility that she, or countless others like her, like Amy, would have made headlines for their solvent abuse. They would have been paraded as examples of a breakdown in society, without a saving voice, so to speak.

Of course, perhaps without the fame, these people would not have resorted to drugs, without the attention, they may not have performed crazy stunts, such as hanging children over balconies. But whose fault is this? Are these people victims of self-nurtured decline, or of outer afflictions?

Society is constructed in such a way that we pressure a number of stars into depression, ruts, abuse. From music to film and beyond, pop culture means we are able to highlight the likes of Britney Spears, Macaulay Culkin, Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan as testimony to the breakdown culture that has been nurtured by modern life. Some, like Robert Downey Jr, make it back; other stars, like Kurt Cobain and Winehouse, never defeat their demons.

But do their devils add meaning to their work. In the case of ‘Nevermind’ by Nirvana, material dealt with lost loves, with ‘Back to Black’, the album can be seen as shaped from Winehouse’s indiscretions and media attention.

However, for the stars like Jackson and Houston, whose prime came before a spectacular fall, their records should be remembered and replayed without the clouds of rumour that have come to outshine their talents. For, certainly, these people became famous for their gifts, and should be thought of in this light.

In 2002, Houston told ABC's Diane Sawyer in an interview that: "The biggest devil is me. I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy."

Perceptive as this analysis is, perhaps the biggest devil to Houston, and to her fallen contemporaries, lies in public responsibility.

Just as we facilitate the rise of a star, we are compliant in their demise.

Remembering where I was when I heard of the deaths of these stars proves something: that these people touched our lives with their songs, their albums, or whatever their gifts. We have a public responsibility to keep that spirit of their talents alive.

"I Told You I Was Trouble"

Tragic but predictable, it was the timing rather than the passing of Amy Winehouse that left many shocked and bereft on Saturday 23^rd July. Discovered by her security in her own bed in Camden, it was a somewhat quiet end to a loud and lavish lifestyle that had prevailed over the preceding years of the youngster’s life. Whilst many point to Amy’s troubles with alcohol addiction, drug abuse and tabloid shenanigans as the root causes for the death, these are just the public images of a lost girl, who was described in completely different ways by family and friends.

Scandalous until the end, Winehouse first came to the public eye with release Frank in 2003. This debut was essentially a cigarette stained, alcohol smeared soul and swing record that was reminiscent of 60s finesse. Critically, the album was a smash and gained Winehouse prestigious Ivor Novello awards – a feat that was repeated several times. Widespread success came with second offering Back To Black, where controlled raspy vocals and controversial issues led to both fame and fortune. The album became the biggest selling LP of 2007 in the UK and the seventh biggest selling in the world in 2008. 

Talent then is unquestionable. More often than was fair, smearing images blocked an accurate portrayal of the life of this star and perhaps the most perceptive remark reads:

“I know Amy Winehouse very well. And she is very different to what people portray her as being. Yes, she does get out of her mind on drugs sometimes, but she is also a very clever, intelligent, witty, funny person who can hold it together. You just don't see that side.”

-Lily Allen.

If, as Ms Allen claims, we didn’t see that side of Winehouse in her personal life, it was because the soul and swing music that she clung to was her eden: outside of her musical menagerie, the troubled starlet was all but lost in a media frenzy that sabotaged and plagued a person that had lost their way. When music was no longer effective in providing an outlet for the different traumas of her life, Amy Winehouse was subjugated to addiction for peace.

Lyrically, Amy’s music is self-professed and riveting material that only foreshadows her latter strife. “I cheated myself, like I knew I would” read the words to ‘You know I’m no good’: everything the star warned herself against has come to dominate her life and yet she enjoyed it nonetheless, and she shrives herself by simply saying that “I told you I was trouble”. Elsewhere, songs such as ‘Tears Dry On Their Own’ question attachments with trivial lovers, and ‘Fuck Me Pumps’ is an ode to all those who lose themselves in the good times, just as Amy herself did. Almost too ironically she warns those who fall from grace not too upset if “like the daily news they get pressed”. It’s a rock’n’roll lifestyle that is so glamorised on the outside, yet is too addictive to leave behind. More than any other artist, her short lived career writes her own eulogy in many ways: a life riddled with problems in love, in drugs, and feeling comfortable with self.

Winehouse’s legacy certainly lives on through her music now, as her parents laid her to rest in an emotional and extremely private congregation. Whilst the media continued to heckle the event, the true trouble of the star is truly realised. However brief her active career, her contributions to the musical world cannot and should not be undermined by her inevitably self destructive path. Current giants such as Duffy, Lily Allen and Adele cite her as their influences; the last going so far as to say that Amy was the original star of the 21^st century to get people excited about British music once again. Moreover, soul music has not enjoyed such popularity, diversity and success since the 60s. Often, genius is a case of trouble. Many of the greatest artists of the 20^th century wrote their music or claimed that their music was inspired by happenings whilst locked away and under the influence of some variant illicit substance. Amy’s music is so startlingly brilliant and unique to its market then because not only did she indulge in drugs, but her entire musical life was based around such self-abuse, mingling with vibrant crowds in Camden and struggling to maintain the balanced lifestyle of her family. 

So whilst she may have said no, no, no to rehab, Amy’s genius flourished under such  circumstance and after all, we’re only saying goodbye in words.