AMY WINEHOUSE, REST IN PEACE

It was almost 3am AEST when the news broke.

The flash of late night conversations, moving bodies on a dance floor, and the push 'n' shove of a full club are blurry images in my mind. Trying to focus on Twitter messages in the back of a taxi cab after too many vodka tonics is a tricky thing.  It's worse when you're reading messages about something that silences you and sends chills throughout your body.

At first it was rumours, gossip and whispers. Then followed tweets from fellow musicians, friends, and bloggers. Frantically I'm trying to search Google for a confirmation, a credible source of information that would indeed support the influx of messages on my screen.

And then, tt was like the black plague taking over, consuming every message with the words "RIP Amy Winehouse".

I suppose I shouldn't seem surprised really. We all know Winehouse lived a destructive life, or so the media would lead us to believe. The late boozey nights, slurred performances, drug addictions and violent sessions attracted the tabloids like candy to a child. Some people say she was lucky to have lived for as long as she did, even though she was only 27.

If you ask me underneath the tattoos, beehive and the drama, Amy Winehouse was a nothing but a gift. A gift of pure talent to the musical world.

I must admit, it wasn't until I'd first heard Rehab that I was a fan. I'd been told about her debut album Frank many years before, but failed to give it a listen. Rehab first arrived in the (Australian) spring of '06 - a time in which I, along with many of my mates, were preparing for a scorching Australian summer ahead. Rehab, a Mark Ronson production like most from the Back to Black album, was an instantly likable hit. The volume of cheek that Winehouse crooned over seemed to be that of a laugh, yet she still sung with nothing with emotion.

The album release followed soon after and out poured the hits - You Know That I'm No Good, Tears Dry On Their Own, Love Is A Losing Game and of course, the title track. Following on from the hits, came the awards. The BRIT Awards, Ivor Novello Awards, MTV Awards, and the staggering five (out of six nominations) Grammy Awards. Amy Winehouse was unstoppable.

But of course with the additional fame came the additional attention. Paprazzi, tabloids, rumours, gossip... all fueled by Winehouse's continued time in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.

Their has been comparisons of Amy's short life to those of fellow musicians such as Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison (of The Doors) - all whom have passed away at the young age of 27. Whilst all passing away as musical greats way too soon, the commonality for me is not their age, but the fact that drugs all played an unfortunate but significant part in their life.

Even as I write this I'm still saddened and somewhat shocked she's gone. There was always a glimmer of hope that she would return to the studio and belt out another ground-breaking album like Back in Black. I can imagine her laughing, cigarette in hand, telling Ronson to 'fuck 'imself' in that cockney accent as they produce another masterpiece for us to swoon over all summer. Now I guess, that's not gonna happen.

So today, again, like my friends over at Popjustice and The Middle Eight, I'm going to spend my day listening to one of our generations greatest musical gifts. The true, pure, beautiful soul that was Amy Winehouse. I hope now that she Rest in Peace.