Amy Winehouse REALLY sucks live.
What a weekend, out of hospital for a Nelson Mandela birthday concert, then to Glastonbury, attacks a fan and back to hospital. It's the wacky work of everyone's favourite crackhead, Amy Winehouse.
Seriously, I don't get the appeal of Winehouse at all. She cannot sing live to save her life. It was actually pitiful to watch her on stage as she bends and jerks her paper thin limbs about, hoikes her skirt to her fanny, warbles off key and out of tune and out of synch with her back up singers, and yet everyone still waffles on about her as though she's the second coming of Mamma Cass/Janis Joplin.
Weird. Yet I can't stop rubbernecking this train wreck. Dear marmalade, I truly can't.
Labels: a singing sensation of sot.