Brighton's best...
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Amy Winehouse...
review When I think of Amy Winehouse the first thing that springs to mind is the raw, cutting voice of a young talent only just beginning to scratch the surface of an industry barely ready for her honest (or in Amy's case, Frank - the title of her first album) explosion onto the music scene.Upgrading venues since her last Brighton performance, Miss Winehouse struts onto centre stage accompanied by her new band (Saxophones! Trumpets! Trombones! Drums! Guitars!) and introduces herself. Clad in figure-hugging vibrant red Adidas dress, with legs out, talons for claws and a bold lightning bolt of a tattoo just below the palm of her hand, it's obvious that despite her soft, raspy voice, this is not a woman to be messed with. "It's obvious that despite
her soft, raspy voice, this is not a woman to be messed with." As the band kick up, the crowd coos with appreciation. Amy begins to roll her shoulders simultaneously, her legs swaying to the beat, and her raw voice flows, resonating light in the darkness of Concorde 2. Though a North London girl at heart, Amy Winehouse could easily be mistaken for a sassy jazz singer of the forties, cigarette in hand with the lights down low, and a crowd of swinging punters gazing into her experienced eyes. Amy sizzles with sexuality and oozes personality, yet still manages to retain an element of sensible deliverance, slicing through the sugar-coated personas that your cheaply translucent Britney or Christina conjure up. Throughout 'Know You Now' her voice echoes with a tinge of sadness, whereas ‘In My Bed' is a feisty number that demands a roar from the crowd. The band lays beautiful tracks over her singing, the synchronisation so right it's wrong. As she hits the chorus the crowd sway, hands in the air, singing in unison the ultimate song of sex-with-the-ex. As Amy pumps out the line “the only time I hold your hand, is to get the angle right" there is an undercurrent of giggles from the ladies, and once again that look appears back in Miss Winehouse's eyes - feisty, smooth, delicate and sexually charged, with a pinch of vulnerability. After a few tracks we take a break before Amy introduces herself to the crowd once more. After such a sleek jazz-tacular voice it comes as a shock to some of the crowd when she pulls out her North London accent, asking “Where’s Juliet at? Jools, where you at? Ah, she must be late, cheers Jools!" Firstly I look at Amy, stunned at the transformation in her voice (think The Streets performing opera), then at the faces of the audience. Half of them are just as shocked at the metamorphosis, our slapped kipper faces leaving our mouths hanging open in surprise. "Though a North London girl
at heart, Amy Winehouse could easily be mistaken for a sassy jazz singer of the forties" A new, jazzier version of 'The October Song' resumes after Amy's comical banter, and it’s an aural delicacy to say the least. A quiet 'There Is No Greater Love' begs tranquillity from the audience, followed by some brand new clandestine tracks. As the evening winds up with hit after hit, Amy takes two minutes to freshen up out back. A girl with a considerably loud mouth screams “Fuck Me Pumps!" (the title of one of Amy's most vitriolic tracks), and she marches back on stage, a smile beaming across her face before belting out the song for the club ladies we love to hate. The show closes with a fresh, freestyle jamming session with the band, rolling into Amy's breakthrough single 'Stronger Than Me'. Before long the band and Amy exit the stage, along with the voice of a performer on the brink of something huge.
about Concorde 2
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The Aquarium Theatre Bar
