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While Amy Winehouse might have “glamorized” addiction (in a far less deliberate way than Lana Del Rey “glamorizing abuse”), her proverbial predecessor/the person who is now oft compared to her, Lola Young, has sought to do the opposite in her approach to songwriting about the struggle. Accordingly, her third and most recent album, I’m Only F**king Myself, is the most candid yet in terms of Young exploring her various battles with addiction. Particularly cocaine. A drug of choice that already differentiates her from Winehouse, who famously said in her signature track, “Rehab,” “I love you much/It’s not enough/You love blow and I love puff.” In effect, Winehouse says what Lana Del Rey later would with the “Born to Die” lyrics, “Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough/I don’t know why.”
Young has slightly less “romantic” thoughts on the matter of l’amour (and drugs) throughout I’m Only F**king Myself, taking a more Lily Allen approach when speaking about her ex-boyfriend(s). For example, “SAD SOB STORY! :),” on which she sings, “But I don’t stalk your Instagram ‘cause I don’t care to know, mate/Who you’ve been sleeping with is no longer my business/And, damn, it feels good, it feels great/I moved on, but I just wanted to say/Best of luck to ya, and I hope you’re happy someday/But keep your sad sob story, ‘cause I won’t read it anyway.” Winehouse, too, had plenty of her own severe “over it” thoughts on exes. Indeed, she could be far more savage than Young—even to a bloke she was still dating. As is the case on 2003’s “Stronger Than Me,” the lead single from Winehouse’s debut, Frank, during which she ribs her then boyfriend, Chris Taylor, “Don’t you know you supposed to be the man?/Not pale in comparison to who you think I am/You always wanna talk it through, I don’t care/I always have to comfort you when I’m there/But that’s what I need you to do, stroke my hair/‘Cause I’ve forgotten all of young love’s joy/Feel like a lady and you my ladyboy.”
Her dissatisfaction with most men only added to the proverbial void inside of her—the very one that prompted her to turn to drugs/have such an “addict’s personality.” Even becoming addicted to people. Most notably, Blake Fielder-Civil. The one who led her even further down a path of drug-addled darkness. This being yet another thing that separates Young from Winehouse: she’s not having her biggest moment yet in the spotlight while still dating someone toxic. A clinger/leech who only becomes more so at the slightest whiff of fame and fortune. Furthermore, in direct contrast to Young, Winehouse patently refused to go to rehab as her fame level soared. Even though going through some kind of “program” at that time might very well have caused her life trajectory to go in a totally different direction. That is to say, she might still be alive today if some early preventative measures had been taken. The same way that Young took them just as “Messy” was blowing her up on the charts in late 2024. While some “pop stars” might have jumped into high-gear promotion mode, this was the precise moment that Young checked in at a facility for her cocaine addiction. One that had been plaguing her for what she deemed “a long time.”
On the plus side, as she noted to The Guardian, “…it teaches you a lot, being addicted to substances. It makes you more empathetic about other people that have gone through that. It’s just a constant journey.” Alas, Winehouse’s own constant journey came to an abrupt end on July 23, 2011, when she once again turned to alcohol as a substitute for the Class A and B drugs she had been dependent on in the mid-2000s. By 2008, however, when she truly was forced into rehab, Winehouse began to “turn a corner.” At least, in a sense. But just because she kicked the “harder stuff” didn’t mean she wouldn’t still turn to alcohol more than merely “now and again.” Even though she mentioned in a 2010 interview with Glamour UK, “I literally woke up one day and was like, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore’” (and yes, that is very much a Rihanna lyric).
Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. A classic binger, Winehouse’s method was to have periods of sobriety followed by getting soused. This being what eventually led to her fatal alcohol poisoning. And, in large part, her inability to seek out the level of help she needed can be chalked up not only to her upbringing, but to her generation. For while millennials might be among the first ilk to truly push back on the general harshness of various “baby boomer philosophies,” many—especially of Winehouse’s “elder millennial” status—were still indoctrinated with the narrow-minded views imparted to them about “how to deal with things.” Especially mental health-related issues. In Winehouse’s case, it wasn’t only a matter of being from a generation that was taught to shove feelings down and/or numb them with substances. She also grew up with parents that largely ignored some of her glaring neuroses early on. Particularly with regard to bulimia. And if they did ignore her issues, it was mostly a result of their own generation’s teachings, instructed never to look too deeply below the surface of things. To just “go along to get along.” Particularly as a woman.
But Lola Young, as a quintessential Gen Zer (born in 2001 à la Billie Eilish), has an altogether different approach to not only acknowledging her issues in the first place, but also taking them on in a constructive manner. And the number one way that her generation has done so is by seeking the necessary form of medical assistance (yes, usually that means therapy) in order to tackle their demons head-on. Winehouse was never able to fully do that, treating her demons of drugs and alcohol not as something that needed to be tamed, but as the cure itself. Worse still, she did glamorize the rush, the thrill of getting wasted all the time. Of being, as Young would say, messy. Her defiance audible in the chorus of “Rehab” as she declares, “They tried to make me go to rehab/I said, ‘No, no, no.’” The final “no” being particularly emphasized in her vocals.
In effect, Winehouse would never be the sort of woman to say something like, “I’m a dumb little addict so I’ve been tryna quit the snowflake,” as Young does on “Not Like That Anymore.” Instead, she would bill her drinking and drugging lifestyle as the chic explanation for why “you know I’m no good.” Shrugging it off as though it’s her doomed fate. In this regard, too, Young can at least address her awareness of wanting to responsibility-shift and “blame it on the gods,” as it were. This being the line she wields in the first verse of “Spiders,” the one that goes, “Can you take, take it off my hands?/To make me feel like I had something planned/And blame, blame it on the gods/So we don’t feel like we did something wrong.”
Winehouse’s songwriting, in sharp contrast (though not in terms of how autobiographical it is), is all about the simultaneous acceptance and guilt of being “born bad” (or, as Del Rey says on “Kinda Outta Luck,” “I was born bad, but then I met you/You made me nice for a while/But my dark side’s true”). This shines through on songs like “What Is It About Men,” “You Know I’m No Good,” “Love Is A Losing Game” and “Addicted.” As far as she’s concerned, the die is cast vis-à-vis the outcome of her life. Whether related to matters of romance, family or otherwise. So why not just knock another bottle back and take things as they unavoidably come? There’s no stopping any of it anyway.
And yet, Gen Z does have this same sort of fatalistic worldview as a result to the very “No Future” vibes that have been further compounded by the inevitability of environmental collapse and/or an AI takeover of the world—whichever comes first. The thing is, they just don’t drink and drug about it as casually and endlessly as millennials like Winehouse. And if they do, they’re sure to take a page from Young’s book (digital though it may be) and seek help before they go down the same (back to) black hole that Winehouse did.
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Genna Rivieccio
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