#31: Amy Winehouse
Amy Winehouse sang like a woman born in the wrong decade—with Motown in her marrow and heartbreak in her breath. Her voice cracked like vintage vinyl, a mix of defiance and despair. Back to Black was a breakup album, sure—but it was also a resurrection, wrapped in jazz chords and eyeliner.

She wasn’t polished; she was honest. She wore her flaws like fur and sang them into confessionals. Her life was chaotic, public, and tragically short—but her artistry was timeless. Amy didn’t ask for your pity. She asked you to listen. And in every note, you could hear the cost of genius.