Amy, had once performed in place of a jam night I was running in Manchester, with her musical director Dale (Davis). Apparently she was touring jam sessions. I hadn’t taken so well to being bumped off my own night, my pride got the better of me and I stayed home.. I never mentioned it to her.  When I joined her band in autumn 2006 many people had heard of her in the UK, but within a few months hers was one of the most recognised names in the world.

Promoting Back to Black was a rollercoaster for us all. Amy’s lows caught the imagination of her fans and the media alike. The highs were equally extreme. We’d walk on stage to thousands of screaming fans. At the Brit awards I struggled to hear the drums as 19,000 people screamed at the stage. It was unreal! 

Inspiration for both her albums came from failed love affairs and her most famous song Rehab was about the darkest place an addictive artist can expect to wind up. All the while reliving her heartache daily through her music. No wonder it was a tumultuous time.

One day we recorded half an album of Specials songs. I did the brass arrangements and taught them to Jay (Phelps). It was a very long blow. 12 hours playing “pip pip pip pip pip pip pip…” on the sax & trumpet. By the end we were high on exhaustion. Amy’s ambition at the time was to release an album of Specials covers. Monkey Man had become our encore and an emotional release. The shows consisted of wrenching heartache for an hour. It was tough going for her but then we’d break out and pogo round the stage like balmy imbeciles playing Monkey Man for 2.5 minutes. It was a daily salutation on tour and we had a ball recording those tunes. Ultimately they ended up as B-sides and on the reissue album. 

My #1 favourite memory of Amy is aural. She had the uncanny ability to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m pretty sure it was her phrasing. Amy & Dale (Davis) would sit up and jam for hours after the rest of us had retired to our bunks as the bus trundled from one city to the next. Amy would mention a song that she’d never played before and Dale would play his bass while telling her the chords to play on acoustic while singing. She must’ve had hundreds of songs stored away in the memory vaults, and seemed to know all the lyrics. My bunk was right next door to the lounge, so even with the door firmly shut I could hear her dulcet tones quietly drifting thru the wall. It was no show, no anxiety, no adrenaline and no audience. Just two musicians celebrating life together. 

I’d not seen Amy for over two years when she sadly passed and I was very surprised to feel a deep sense of grief that lasted long after her funeral. She had the very rare gift to genuinely touch the emotions of millions of people, most of whom had never met her. I can vividly remember all our times talking, she had the ability to make the entire world disappear so that only you and her existed. 

Amy achieved far more in 27 years than most do in 70. Amy burned as brightly as anyone, she loved and lived life, and she will live on through her art forever.