From The Times
February 13, 2008
Amy Winehouse's brother on her return to formAweekend to remember ended in triumph for the singer. Now Amy
Winehouse's brother hopes that his sister has conquered her demons
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Alex Winehouse
By all accounts, it was the best of weekends. On Saturday, my League Cup Final
tickets arrived, and we toughed it out to secure three hard-earned points up
at Derby. The next day, I got my sister back, and had a front row seat to
see her kick ass and take over the world.
Not that I or any of the family held out much hope that this day was going to
come. A few weeks earlier, a visit to Amy’s flat with my girlfriend Hayley
saw Amy still struggling to conquer her demons. Clearly in the wake of a hit
from the old crack pipe, it was hard to take in that the barely
communicative shell in front of us was my own flesh and blood. A few days
later came that video leak, and the emergency meeting with Lucian Grainge
that finally got her into rehab. That had been the last time I had seen her.
I should mention here that we all knew how bad her condition was. There was
never any denial on the part of my parents, whose fears and anxiety over
their only daughter had made them both ill. Dad was on the verge of a
breakdown, and Mum . . . well, Mum was Mum – stoic on the outside, but one
can only guess at the torment that was going on within.
So Amy entered rehab, and Mum and Dad could relax slightly. She wasn’t allowed
visitors, but the reports we got were all good. Detox was tough but she did
it. Getting her back on foods proved to be more of a problem, but she
started to put on weight. She was still eating rubbish – a trait we share
courtesy of our father’s penchant for anything that could result in an early
onset of diabetes – but she was keeping it down rather than bolting for the
nearest toilet. She was even ready, it was whispered, for the Grammys.
Only the US Government didn’t see it that way. Visa denied, her hopes of
making it out to Los Angeles were dashed, and she was gutted. Despite having
the visa eventually granted, it came too late for her to fly to the States,
and so it came to be that, rather than sharing a stage with Tony Ben-nett at
the Staples Centre, she’d be taking in the evening with her family in
London. LA’s loss was most definitely our gain.
It was without a shadow of a doubt the greatest night our family has enjoyed
in a long, long time. Having not seen her since that fateful night, I had no
idea what kind of state she’d be in. Dad, despite having spent more time
with her than I, was a tense, nervous wreck, snapping at everyone in sight.
Mum was, as expected, the very definition of stoicism. The
OED should
take note. Fortunately, two glasses of champagne steadied my nerves. We were
by no means alone on this particular matter. If a close family member lived
within decent driving distance of the Riverside Studios, they were in
attendance. Amy’s oldest friends, Juliette, Jessica and Lauren, were keen to
show their support. Indeed, it was as if everyone crammed in to the studio
knew they were about to witness something great. However, greatness, of
course, isn’t always accompanied by something good.
But, as history will now record, our fears were misguided. The first time we
heard her was from behind the stage curtain, as she took the mickey out of
the stage manager telling the audience how to behave. Her banter was
sparkling and funny. There were to be two rehearsals. We took our seats, I
took a big swig from my glass, and the curtain came up. And there was my
sister, looking and sounding better than I had seen her in two years.
If I told you she sounded good in rehearsals, then her live performance was
truly from another planet. This girl, lucky if she’s measured at 5ft 2in
without heels and beehive, strode the stage like a giant. Sitting there
watching her was like watching a triumphant ending of a biopic. She had put
everything into this performance, and it showed with each perfect note,
every knowing glance at the television cameras. It was an electrically
charged performance that sent kilowatts through the audience. Never mind
that it was four in the morning – the place was literally jumping, with all
thoughts of sleep forgotten.
Her reaction to winning the Best Record award was genuine and truly moving.
For the first time in God only knows how long, my parents were truly happy,
and Amy was too. So of course was I. We hugged and kissed, and suddenly the
world melted away; we were alone, a loving family that has suffered so much
and – we deeply wish – come out the other side.
I spoke to her later as she went for a quiet fag, and she was as bright and
vivacious as she had been before her demons took over. That was my happiest
moment of the night. We were able to have a normal conversation, chatting
about her wanting to learn to drive, the pros and idiots of wearing a
handlebar moustache (a look I’m trying to cultivate, courtesy of too many
hours watching
Deadwood), how Hayley was, and yes, even being off
drugs. She didn’t miss crack, she told me, and was glad to be rid of it,
which was a nice thing to hear. She ended by telling me that she was
planning to go quad-biking with the Osbournes at some point, which was cool,
until I remembered that this particular pursuit nearly killed Ozzy. So,
something else to worry about. Still, it makes a change to have a trivial
concern. Cigarette finished, we returned to our family to say our goodnights
and head home.
Yes, the best of weekends. Spurs continue their resurgence, but most
importantly of all very definite signs that Amy – the real Amy – is back
among us. The hope, of course, is that this time it’s for real.
—Lucian Grainge, head of Universal Music Europe, is credited
with forcing Amy Winehouse into rehab by presenting her with cuttings
documenting her downfall.
A source at Universal said: “Lucian got every piece of press from around the
world. He then laid everything out and summoned Amy. He told her to have a
good look, then tell him she hadn’t got a drugs problem. It did the trick.”
Merci beaucoup Morri!!
Je le recopie au cas où le lien un jour soit plus valide.
c'est hyper long et en anglais..
LadyJazz si t'as le temps de faire un petit résumé de 4-5 lignes...
Dim 14 Sep - 2:12
Amy et son frere(pardon :oops:j'ai oublié son prenom)
..non à cette heure là on arrivera pas...mais bon qd mm on parle souvent du père, de la mère mais jamais du frère
?
AMY PETITE ET AMY DANS 60 ANS ?
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