There are few albums in my lifetime that will be considered timeless, genius, or even classic. The way music is going these days, the Millennials will have absolutely NO albums that will be considered as such, save for, to be frank (see what I did there) the album I have chosen here. Yes, it has been more than a minute since my last Gem-Of-A-Jam wax-poetic, but I feel with the debut album from the gone-too-soon genius Amy Winehouse, I have bridged the gap.
First things first: I came to Amy Winehouse with the release of "Rehab" to radio, a gadget I NEVER listen to unless it's a classic station or NPR. That is to say, I came to Amy Winehouse as she was breaking here in the States commercially--so I didn't exactly stumble on her. However, I will own the fact that I purchased "Back To Black" pre-album cover switcheroo. (The cover conspiracy I speak of is this: Initially, "B To B" was released with a scrawny Amy sitting in dress and high-heels on a stool in front of a freshly erased blackboard, sans beehive. As the album became more popular, the cover seemed to suddenly become swapped out with a beehive bedecked broad just peeking over the album edge). I digress. With the initial spin of "Black" I fell hive over heels instantly, especially on the track "Me And Mr. Jones," a song that harkened back to my childhood and the oldies my parents blared, a la "The Stroll" by The Diamonds, a favorite of my father's. Anyone that knows me and music knows that when I fall for an artist, I fall hard, and need to know their entire history. Such was the case with Amy, which led me to discover that she had an album prior to what we received in America. That album was "Frank."
Second things second: I was in San Francisco, in the Haight Ashbury and I made the obligatory stop at Amoeba Records. On one of the shelves I noticed Amy's first album, complete with the sticker "Import" on the cover. I must admit, Amy also looked much healthier. When an album in the states is marked "Import," that means that it was not necessarily intended for release in America, but that it has been imported to be made available--always at a higher cost. I promptly grabbed my copy, not knowing what to expect musically with this record.
When I arrived back in Los Angeles, (working at the time on a reality TV show), I happened to be uploading "Frank" to my iPod at my desk and my co-worker (and now close musical confidante) Aireka walked by me. She proceeded to tell me that she preferred "Frank" to "Back To Black." A very bold statement, I thought, as "Back To Black" was not only receiving resounding U.S. critical acclaim, but it was also a loveletter of sorts to the early American girl-group music of the '60s, The Shangri-Las and Lesley Gore--but on acid and with edgy lyrics like " What kind of fuckery is this?"
Though I adore both records, I have to admit, Aireka was right. While "Back To Black" was a mammoth American success, sweeping 5 Grammy awards and selling 3 million copies in the U.S. (20 million worldwide), "Frank" is the more original of the two records, and in a good way, the less accessible one. Yes, the original release of "Frank," that is to say before it was released officially as a non-import in the States (more on this "fuckery" later) is start to finish a masterpiece record that defies age, space, and time.
If "Frank" were a house its building would look something like this: the foundation is Jazz, the brick and mortar R&B, the insulation Hip-Hop and the windows, Soul. It is a new kind of Hip-Hop Torch record, sung by a Torch singer reincarnated with inflections of Dinah Washington and Sarah Vaughan, and taking up residence in the vocal chords of an unconventionally beautiful British Jewish girl named Amy Winehouse.
From the moment you hear an 18-year-old Amy humming a Jazz riff on the intro, to the break-beat of "Stronger Than Me" you know you're not going to get some surface slick production piece with songs written by 50 different songwriters aimed at a Billboard hit. In fact, what you're listening to is the vocal and musical transcription of an artist writing her philosophy of ethics, critical thought, self-awareness, and overall modus operandi. To be 18 with this much of a sense of emotional clarity almost implies a life destined to be shorter than most. Her level of what-makes-me-tic-ness is so evident even from the album's title: you are getting the no-holds-barred artistic expression of someone who lives their life as frankly as ever.
To break "Frank" down for you track by track would be doing you a disservice as a new or returning listener to this album; I would be hindering your personal relationship and interpretation of this record. A masterpiece is exactly that because it transcends the conventionality and cliche of whatever art is available wholesale. In terms of mass adoration, "Frank" pales in comparison to "Back To Black." But I implore you on a bevy of levels to sit with this record and listen to it start to finish. It is not an album for single-surfing; that is to say, to skip through for the "hits." If this is what you're aim is, then go "Back To Black."
I have one extreme cautionary note about the U.S. iTunes edition/Audio CD of the release of "Frank." An ABSOLUTE CARDINAL SIN was committed when Universal Records officially released this album in the States. They omitted one of the most integral tracks on the record for some reason or another. The song is PARAMOUNT to the meaning of this album; and its omission is like ripping a chapter out of The Great Gatsby. You just don't do it or the story is incomplete. The infamous song is "Help Yourself" an eerily prophetic tune with these lyrics: "I can't help you, if won't help yourself/ You can only get so much from someone else." On the album, it is sequenced just after "What Is It About Men" and just before "Amy, Amy, Amy." It can be found in the video above at 37:47. If purchasing this album, I beg you, plead with you: You MUST get your hands on a copy of the original British Import release, not the U.S. iTunes/CD version as, if it wasn't clear a paragraph ago, this album without it is like the Mona Lisa without a smile. I'm THAT serious.
Recently I had the extreme emotional thrill of viewing the newly released documentary "Amy," which is an at times, raw emotional sojourn into the soul of a troubled genius. Thankfully, director Asif Kapadia does a brilliant job of starting at the very beginning, chronicling Amy's writing and recording of "Frank," and utilizing in abundance the songs she composed for this album to tell her story. I have always said that "Frank" is Amy Winehouse's "Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill." I make this statement only to give a very clear idea to the music seeker as to how potent "Frank" is as a body of work in defining musical landmarks, not to compare the two artists. Give this Gem-Of-A-Jam a listen; celebrate its 12 years in our musical consciousness as the flip-side to "Back to Black;" as a totem of the unapologetic brilliance, genius, and musicianship of Amy Winehouse.