Cherries On Top

I must have tuned into the wrong concert broadcast last night. Today’s reports of Nelson Mandela’s 90th birthday tribute bash in Hyde Park overfloweth with praise for Troubled Amy Winehouse (TM), who led the finale performance of Free Nelson Mandela.

She was tan and radiant or remarkably tanned and glowing, depending on which version you read. She impressed the crowd with her powerful vocals, and was back to something like top form.  

Er, really? Watching from the comfort of my sitting-room, what I viewed went roughly as follows:

Emaciated woman has taken to the stage in a black and white mini-dress. Camera zooms in on orange make-up, trowelled over a drug-addled complexion that was memorably described in a Rolling Stone article this week as “little scabs that raid her face”. She is singing.

Amy Winehouse:  OHHH YUNNNNN AYYYY GNIR A TURRRRR WURN LIR CRRRUNNAGGOOLPERRRRRR

(hitches skirt up)

Jerry Dammers and amazing African choir: Freeeeeeeee eeee Nelson Mandela!

(Horn section) 

Amy Winehouse: GRNNNNNNNNNN AR HNERRRRRRRR FRUHHHHHHHH ONEEYORE UHH BRRRRRENIRYURN

(hitches up skirt)

And so on. 

I thought she looked terrible - and her voice sounded utterly shot.

Take a look:

By way of comparison - and just for old time’s sake - this is what she used to look and sound like: 

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