IF HOME is where the heart is, then Amy Winehouse’s heart — larger than most and perhaps more prone to bleeds and breakage — was in Camden Town in North London.
She was referring to the infamous fire that razed half of Camden Market, taking with it her drinking headquarters, the Hawley Arms.
Asking what the appeal of Camden was to Winehouse is a bit like asking about the private habits of bears in the woods. It doesn’t require interrogation. She was attracted to its intimate villagey community but also to its excess. The vibrant market centre, which sits between the commercial district of Westminster and the cosy affluence of Hampstead, has a long history of this. In the early 1800s, the influx of Irish railway workers brought with it a legacy of institutionalised alcoholism that lives on today. Added to that today is a lively drugs scene.
More recently, the Britpop heyday brought the first generation of the celebrated “Camden caners”. Blur and Oasis drank in the Good Mixer, an unreconstructed drinking hole that focuses more on fun than on pretty decor. The second wave of Camden caners — including actress Kirsten Dunst, Razorlight frontman Johnny Borrell, Kelly Osbourne, Mischa Barton and Paris Hilton — was headed up by Winehouse. Their home was the Hawley Arms, right in the heart of the market. Messy-haired, vested bar staff in skinny jeans kept the beer flowing, and then it was back to someone’s house for a party.
Musicians love the place. Name any act, from the Killers to Supergrass, from Madness to the Specials, and they will have played the darkened stage of the Dublin Castle, one of the borough’s most iconic music pubs. And this is why the tastemakers will always be here. Radio 1 DJ Steve Lamacq can often be found at the Barfly checking out the latest talent, or curating a night at The Bull and Gate. The Camden Crawl — a two-day festival bringing together more than 100 acts in as many venues — has become known as one of the few places you might get to see a superstar act in a tiny venue.
Winehouse and Camden were mutually dependent. She helped make it cool again after Britpop faded; after the glorious downfall of the Primrose Hill set and later the huge redevelopment of the market. She became a mascot for the borough.
No matter where you were, Winehouse’s influence, in music and style, shaped Camden’s culture. Take a walk down Camden High Street tomorrow and count the backcombed hairdos and ballet shoes. Although her minders were a necessary accompaniment, there were no airs and graces or presumptions about her. She didn’t demand special treatment, and no matter how infamous she grew, she was more likely to be seen eating kebabs at Marathon Kebab House, than sipping cocktails at the Met Bar.
Winehouse loved playing the Dublin Castle backroom and told the landlord, Henry Conlon, as much. Once, she was waiting to be served and Conlon told her to come around and serve herself. She stayed three hours and came back again and again. She craved the interaction and chat with the locals, but needed the safety of the bar between her and them.
Winehouse’s addictive character extended to more than substance abuse. She was hooked on music and the jazz and soul records she grew up with. In Rehab she says she’d rather be at home with Ray and Mr Hathaway, a reference to Ray Charles and Donny Hathaway. But she was addicted to her ex-husband Blake Fielder-Civil too, and to drink and drugs and to Camden. No matter how often she moved away, to Barnet, a calmer more suburban area at the end of the Northern line, or St Lucia, her home from home, she always came back.
I became used to seeing the tip of the diminutive Winehouse’s beehive as she made her way through the crowds, sandwiched by 6ft tall, 6ft-wide minders. Her catalogue of performing appearances included a spellbinding set at the Dublin Castle, an unforgettable evening during which I witnessed the raw beauty of her voice, up close and away from the drama surrounding her.
Most telling was the night in July 2008 when she was due to DJ at the Monarch, but turned up looking vacant. With a “Blake” brooch in her hair, she painted her nails while someone else took over the decks. Events took a bizarre twist when the crowd spent two hours photographing her rather than dancing, as she became a real-life waxwork.
Now her neighbours and fans will have to go to Madame Tussauds to see her. Camden is a quieter place today. We miss her very much.
Roísín Gadelrab is music editor of the Camden New Journal
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