Sad news tonight about the death of Whitney Houston. Like Amy Winehouse's passing last year, it would be hard to pretend that this was a shock, but that doesn't stop it from being a shame. Few people reach the pinnacle of success she did in the 1980s and 90s, and fewer still have fallen from grace with such swiftness. You know how much I love my divas, but I can't say she was ever a favorite of mine. I attended a sold-out stadium concert she gave when she was already one of the biggest attractions in music, and Hollywood was beckoning. One would never have known it from her press, but signs of trouble were already there to see; on that night she was clearly drunk, and hostile to the audience- and this was before her alliance with Bobby Brown. The bad impression I got from that evening never completely faded. Still, she had many more career triumphs before her, and I could never be completely immune to her powers.
No doubt we will be hearing a lot about her life that we hadn't heard before in the next few days, and a lot of it won't be pretty, but tonight, let's remember her when she was at her best, a paragon of beauty and talent. She was a legend, and now she's gone, and it doesn't seem right.