Credit: n/aR&B sultress Amy Winehouse lost her life on this day three years ago, joining the ranks of the taken-from-us-way-too-young 27 Club. Her impression on the music world, in just two-and-half albums – posthumous Lioness: Hidden Treasures dropped unfinished – is indelible, bridging a much needed post-millennium gap between alternative golden soul voices of the old school to her lovably unabashed new school, simultaneously paving a brilliant unconventional way for contemporaries like Lady Gaga and Adele to take over the world. “Rehab,” just about snaps a perfectly sad shot of her panache, laying all demons out on the line in both a cathartic and punk-middle-finger way, while strutting along honey-drip hummable and diva-proud into your heart. All before the horn lines even hit; RIP Amy Winehouse:

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, ‘No, no, no’
Yes, I’ve been black, but when I come back you know, know, know