Not That It Matters....: Women I Would Settle For, Vol. III: "Cause I've Forgotten All of Young Love's Joy..."

I'm sorry baby. I didn't know. I made some harsh-and rash-judgements. It's just that I'm jaded and when they described you to me I wasn't impressed. A Jewish Brit with a fondness for Miles Davis and Nas covers? Certainly the makings of a dream girl (You probably know the Kosherist lawyers...) but, well, I don't know-just 'but'. I figured you didn't even know who Apache was. I have a real reluctance to embrace white artists who gain notoriety by performing historically black music. What begins as an acknowledgement of imitation eventually becomes a usurping of the art form. White artists have access to an audience that may be hesitant to support a black artist of the same caliber, and through this audience the perception grows that the white artist may in fact be superior. This perception is then established as fact through revisionist history. Basically baby, I thought you were Elvis. I fucking hate Elvis. But I'm sorry. I didn't know.

I thought you were just some overzealous neophyte who was trying to gain credibility through your influences. Etta James, Sarah Vaughn and Minnie Ripperton are good so why shouldn't I just listen to their records instead of yours? Instead, I threw on some Ghostface only to feel like an idiot. That was you. I'm sorry. I didn't know.

I didn't know about your '03 UK debut. I didn't know Salaam Remi himself produced it. It still probably wouldn't have mattered to me, I'd have just lumped you in with Christina Aguliera and Joss Stone. Mrs. Dirrty's act is tired to me and Joss is pretty limited. Then I stopped talking, stopped judging, stopped jumping to conclusions, and started listening. Your sound is everything they said it was and more. A five octave range over break beats and Motown throwbacks? My ear actually orgasmed.

I hear you like to drink-perhaps a bit too much-and used to enjoy the occasional spliff. And a bump or two. Maybe one of those pills too. A woman after so many of our own hearts. You're a tattooed, foul mouthed, unapologetic, honest and intelligent woman. I've sat across diner tables burning through packs of cigarettes past dawn with other women such as yourself, but none of them ever sang to me like you. Or had a British accent and a thing for doorknocker earrings. Amy Winehouse, it's only been twelve hours and I think I love you. Just don't tell Scarlett.

"Valerie" (Zutons cover.)