Back to Black

When I was a kid, I remember the longest, humid summers when Amy Winehouse played on the radio without end. It was played enough for me to know the lyrics for many of her songs even now, more than a decade later. Though those memories of sweltering summers are now long in the past, her lyrics remain a well-worn part of my shower-and-car-singing oeuvre (complete with many wrong words). Her music means much more to me now than it ever did as a child. Lines like ‘we…