You wouldn’t catch Holo Winehouse sat on the drum riser for 15 minutes shouting for Blake to bring its other shoes.
You’d be paying to watch a Stepford Winehouse, a smooth, pre-planned recreation of an Amy gig that would betray the fundamental essence of the person and the performer.
And sure, it’s the closest we can get to lost musicians, for now. Even when a hologram’s algorithms can download every performance by a singer and use the information to become a self-determined reincarnation with every quirk and mannerism perfectly rendered in ultra-12D, able to convincingly improvise – nay ‘live’ – a gig, there will always be a limited resource of material to draw from, nothing new to add.
You turn up expecting a mind-blowing, unforgettable experience beyond the realms of normal human interaction. The sounds are right, but seem a bit forced, contrived and unconvincing.First a few observations: You describe the man you met online as wonderful and godly.His behavior — leading you into sexual sin, defending that sin as natural, then leaving you after getting what he was after — is neither wonderful, nor godly.Let’s face it, a slick, rebootable hologram Amy tour would feel doubly fake.It could never recreate the unpredictability and tension of a true Winehouse appearance.
I’m saddened by the reminder that our enemy has made sexual sin so cut-off from relationship that we’re not even sure it is sex.