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As I attempt to start this morning, I realize I’m still recovering from a musical hangover D’Angelo’s “Second Coming Tour” dealt a few hours ago. I can barely open my eyes and my head’s still pounding from Chris Daddy Dave’s drums. All of this a small price to pay for what I, sitting in the front row of a sold-out crowd, witnessed last night. After experiencing the wonderful unexpected whirlwind of the “Black Messiah” surprise drop in December after 14 years (and laughing at all the critics who’d locked down their top album lists too early), I thought I’d be ready. I should have known better.

Just returning from a private screening at The Grammy Museum of “Amy”, I immediately crank “Frank” Deluxe Edition featuring songs I never got to hear live. Yes, I rocked with Amy’s music way before the “retro revolution”, the beehive, tattoos and ballet slippers. Still remember the excitement the day I heard Amy Winehouse was playing locally in Silverlake, shortly before “Back To Black” dropped. Of course tickets sold out and I turned to eBay, unleashing an expletive-filled tirade after an outbidding prick stole my ticket away at the last minute. I eventually let it go because surely I’d get a chance to see her again. Sadly this never happened.

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