Amy Winehouse remains a breath of fresh air in music industry 10 years after death - Anthony Clavane

And, as usual, the negatives – rather than the many positives – of the musical iconoclast’s all-too-brief life have been accentuated.

The justification for all these retrospectives, on myriad TV, radio and podcast shows, is acceptable enough. For, incredibly, a whole decade has elapsed since her passing.

Indeed, it was ten years ago today that the 27-year-old was found dead from accidental alcohol poisoning in her north London home.

Tonight, in an hour-long broadcast, the BBC will mark this anniversary in a documentary allowing her closest family and friends, including her mother and father, to “set the record straight”.

Her dad Mitch was unflatteringly portrayed in the 2015 film Amy.

There have been countless offerings since that documentary, which covered Amy’s struggle with substance abuse, her battle with bulimia, her self-harm and so on. I am hopeful that tonight’s programme, as the pre-publicity suggests, finally changes the Winehouse narrative.

According to commissioning editors Max Gogarty and Rachel Davies, it “promises to be a celebratory and intimate portrayal of one of the brightest musical talents the UK has ever seen”.

Good. I would rather enjoy a celebration of her musical genius than watch yet another dour dissection of her so-called angst-ridden soul.

Rather than listen to more stories about her struggles with drink, drugs and the paparazzi – who, admittedly, hounded her in time-honoured fashion – I want to listen again to the soaring jazz, majestic blues and neo-soul of those two classic albums Frank and Back to Black.

They are both, in my opinion, modern masterpieces.

I want to hear how this daughter of a taxi driver and a pharmacist was propelled to fame as a result of her prodigious songwriting talent. I want to be reminded of the beehived chanteuse’s searingly-honest lyrics and beautiful guitar riffs.

Never mind the morbid fascination with her demons – what about the hit albums, five Grammys and massive global sales? Not to mention the life-enhancing gigs.

It was disturbing to discover, in this week’s Spectator magazine, that she appears to be forgotten in Barnet, the borough in which she grew up.

The veteran Fleet Street news journalist John Sturgis claimed she had become “unmentionable” in her local school because she was perceived to be an “anti-role model”. He revealed that, strangely, the London suburb had no plans to celebrate the tenth anniversary of her death.

“There is, in Barnet itself, practically no sign of her ever having existed,” he wrote. “There is no plaque... it’s as if she is being disowned, not just by her old school but by the wider area.”

I quite understand why so many programmes have been commissioned. Some of them, so far, have been fine. I liked the extracts of interviews she gave to the BBC.

Dionne Bromfield, the legendary singer’s goddaughter, has made an interesting MTV UK documentary and Sky podcast about her mentor.

Still, I’ve had my fill of all those grim, lazy, broken-on-the-wheel-of-fame-type revelations. Enough already.

Yes, like Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, she died at the age of 27. But no, unlike those male rock gods, she was a queen of the blues, inspired by Billie Holliday, Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald.

These female muses paved the way for her – and she paved the way for the likes of Adele, Lady Gaga and Paloma Faith.

Her final recording, in 2011, was Body And Soul – a duet with her idol Tony Bennett. Bennett, on hearing of her death, focused on her sublime talent, which brought joy to millions of people.

She was, he reflected, “an artist of immense proportions...an extraordinary musician...she had the voice of an angel: a being that works on a plane higher than the one most of us inhabit down here.”

Amy was a breath of fresh air in the music industry. And she remains so.