Perhaps my favorite memory of SXSW came during the music portion of the festival. One evening, we were rounding a quiet corner downtown when I came face-to-face with a very striking looking young girl. She was teeny-tiny, but had black hair and tattoos on her arms. I wasn’t sure if I was heavily attracted to her, but I was certainly heavily drawn to her. Anyway, she gave me a mischievous look that seemed to say, “I know you know who I am.” Mind you, this didn’t come off as cocky or brash, it was actually quite sweet. At this point, I still hadn’t made the connection. But that’s when Ben walked up to her in a controlled fury, pumped his fists right in front of her face and said, “Yesssss!!!” Then, without saying anything else, he kept walking. The striking young girl lit up at this, and continued on her own way. Turns out it was Amy Winehouse. Once Ben explained this to me I immediately made the connection (I must also stress, especially in hindsight, just how impossibly great Ben’s action was). It was her tiny frame that had thrown me off. Yet it was also the fact that I hadn’t yet actually heard her music before our brief encounter. Now that I have, I am grateful that I was ignorant of her on that fateful evening, for my confrontation with her--unlike Ben’s legendarily cool one--would have been legendarily humiliating.

After getting back from SXSW, I checked out her hit single “Rehab,” which I obviously became obsessed with, but for some strange reason I never took the plunge and checked out the whole album. Which leads me to yesterday. Based on “Rehab” alone, I nudged my brother-in-law in her direction. He was smart enough to buy the whole album. Yesterday morning, I listened to it for the first time. Then I listened to it again. And again. And again. We must have played it six times in a row. I couldn’t believe my ears. Today I played it back-to-back-to-back-to-back I don’t know how many times. I don’t know how, but it keeps getting better and better.

Normally I don’t like it when white people try to pull off black music. This is a racist statement, and for that I apologize (I hope Eugene and Brian won’t suspend me for two weeks). However, there are a few exceptions to the rule. Bobby Charles’s first record is a shining example. Eminem’s “Stan” is another one. But when it comes to recreating an old-soul-groove, Amy Winehouse is so good that she competes with the masters. I realize that I’m pushing this into dangerous terrain with a statement like that, but I can’t help it right now.

I’m sure you guys aren’t idiots like me and have already discovered Amy Winehouse on your own, but in case you haven’t, check out her MySpace page or do a random YouTube search and listen for yourself. I honestly don’t think there’s a bad song on the album, but at the moment, “Love is a Losing Game” is massaging my soul into a rare, wondrous place.