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| CASUALTIES OF ROCK The infamous 27 Club |
But rock ‘n roll has its own taboos and fetishes that may be too hard to carry as well, and that the concept of a mere number having a tragic tale may add a little color to it, like a perennial publicity stunt among these famous rock and movie stars.
This number, however, has never failed to make an impression in the music scene since the ascension of the Fab Four, another number sagaciously exploited in rock, although some cliques inside rock history could attest that a lot of their "students" failed to reach the age of 28, and most of them had no idea that they have lived that long.
Digging further, this number also has its mythic claim in literature in that the great Jacobean poet, Ben Jonson, in his "To the Memory of My Beloved Master, William Shakespeare", an epic poem praising the bard from Stratford-on-Avon, wrote in line 27, the words, "He was not of an age, but for all time!".
Somehow a fitting eulogy for those countless and counting casualties in rock who may have been given an epitaph by the poet several centuries ago.
This number, however, has never failed to make an impression in the music scene since the ascension of the Fab Four, another number sagaciously exploited in rock, although some cliques inside rock history could attest that a lot of their "students" failed to reach the age of 28, and most of them had no idea that they have lived that long.
"Now he's gone and joined that stupid club. I told him not to join that stupid club."
Wendy Fradendurg Cobain on Kurt Cobain
Digging further, this number also has its mythic claim in literature in that the great Jacobean poet, Ben Jonson, in his "To the Memory of My Beloved Master, William Shakespeare", an epic poem praising the bard from Stratford-on-Avon, wrote in line 27, the words, "He was not of an age, but for all time!".
Somehow a fitting eulogy for those countless and counting casualties in rock who may have been given an epitaph by the poet several centuries ago.
“I hope I die before I get old,” sang The Who. And what better way to label the whole business of dying at 27 by repeating that line over and over again. In fact, Who’s wild drummer, Keith Moon, died at a relatively young age in his early thirties; dying to a line he helped made famous.
Even online pages such as the 27 Club, a site enumerating the lives of rock stars who died at that age, recognized the mystery of this haunted number, and that its sad guitar is still playing the dirge.
Even online pages such as the 27 Club, a site enumerating the lives of rock stars who died at that age, recognized the mystery of this haunted number, and that its sad guitar is still playing the dirge.
And yet for what its worth, this number remains an obnoxious figure in rock lore, although an anecdote came out from the cold following the death of Nirvana’s Cobain that he may have taken an interest of dying at age 27. But so far this story has yet to reach a confirmation, much less in its already severed authenticity. If, indeed, Cobain wanted to die at that age, his death simply was too good to be true.
But let us take a quick look at those who suffered under the mortal coils of this dark number. Let us begin with the latest casualty, a rock diva who died while trying to climb back to the mountain top of success, but falls short of it as her life ended as fast as her rise to fame came and went, leaving further questions and mystery over this rock’s insidious figure, 27.
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| "Tears Dry on Their Own" |
AMY WINEHOUSE
You could almost feel the pain. Tears just don't dry on Amy Winehouse's face. After winning a Grammy for her 2nd album in 2006, Winehouse was supposed to pick up the souls of Cass Elliot and Janis Joplin at the Chelsea, but because of some visa problems, she wasn't able to do so. Instead, she dreamed about them, hoping that success would be a little more than an overnight binge in some rundown hotel. Her music, nevertheless, was far from being an overnight sensation, as her carefree, Motown voice lends an escape from the superficial acts of pop divas and American idols. And who can forget about that beehive? Not even Macy Gray could have donned a hairdo like that. And like her predecessor in Joplin (incidentally, Janis is the name of Amy's mother), nobody even cared about that public call for sobriety in which Winehouse indirectly craved for by looking drag and demented in front of the press. Somehow there's a huge sigh of relief when she died, like they were really waiting for her obituary to take center stage.
You could almost feel the pain. Tears just don't dry on Amy Winehouse's face. After winning a Grammy for her 2nd album in 2006, Winehouse was supposed to pick up the souls of Cass Elliot and Janis Joplin at the Chelsea, but because of some visa problems, she wasn't able to do so. Instead, she dreamed about them, hoping that success would be a little more than an overnight binge in some rundown hotel. Her music, nevertheless, was far from being an overnight sensation, as her carefree, Motown voice lends an escape from the superficial acts of pop divas and American idols. And who can forget about that beehive? Not even Macy Gray could have donned a hairdo like that. And like her predecessor in Joplin (incidentally, Janis is the name of Amy's mother), nobody even cared about that public call for sobriety in which Winehouse indirectly craved for by looking drag and demented in front of the press. Somehow there's a huge sigh of relief when she died, like they were really waiting for her obituary to take center stage.
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| "I Hate Myself and Want to Die" |
KURT COBAIN (Nirvana)
Just when he got the whole rock world in his hand, Cobain felt it had slipped away from him, faded out, and the only way to grab it again was to simply burn out. Nirvana was a blur, a transcendent experience from the glam rock that dominated the music scene in the early 90s. The band somehow gave hope to a disgruntled generation in search of an identity, encouraging them only to “come as you are”. And in the midst of that whirlpool of unbridled energy was Kurt Cobain, a waif-looking, reluctant god of the grunge movement. Cobain, prior to his rock star status as the front man of Nirvana, was part of the seedy grunge scene in his native Seattle, an experience Cobain further enhanced as Nirvana went off the charts, thus started a new wave of attitude and atrocity never before heard or seen in rock. In his refusal to succumb to the emerging prettified image of his band, and his on-and-off bouts with substance abuse, Cobain took his own life, while maintaining in one of his songs that he doesn’t have a gun.
PETE HAM (Badfinger)
Badfinger was supposed to pick up what the Beatles had left, and Ham should have been the harbinger of good things to come. McCartney had his sights on him and composed a cajoling “Come and Get it” sentiment for him to jumpstart another line of mop heads overruling the music industry. But Ham cowered after a few hits and found himself victimized by some bad deals and miscalculations behind the music, and never recovered from it. It’s hard to conclude that his band, with some attitude in its name, notwithstanding, and initially having the blessings of a charismatic Beatle in McCartney, did flop and eventually failed to make an impressive run of hits. Ham wandered in the music scene for some time, while trying to resuscitate his place among rock’s elites. Ham’s death through a noose suffered a chain of negative events and culminated into another hanging, this time by a fellow member of the band
Just when he got the whole rock world in his hand, Cobain felt it had slipped away from him, faded out, and the only way to grab it again was to simply burn out. Nirvana was a blur, a transcendent experience from the glam rock that dominated the music scene in the early 90s. The band somehow gave hope to a disgruntled generation in search of an identity, encouraging them only to “come as you are”. And in the midst of that whirlpool of unbridled energy was Kurt Cobain, a waif-looking, reluctant god of the grunge movement. Cobain, prior to his rock star status as the front man of Nirvana, was part of the seedy grunge scene in his native Seattle, an experience Cobain further enhanced as Nirvana went off the charts, thus started a new wave of attitude and atrocity never before heard or seen in rock. In his refusal to succumb to the emerging prettified image of his band, and his on-and-off bouts with substance abuse, Cobain took his own life, while maintaining in one of his songs that he doesn’t have a gun.
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| "Without You" |
Badfinger was supposed to pick up what the Beatles had left, and Ham should have been the harbinger of good things to come. McCartney had his sights on him and composed a cajoling “Come and Get it” sentiment for him to jumpstart another line of mop heads overruling the music industry. But Ham cowered after a few hits and found himself victimized by some bad deals and miscalculations behind the music, and never recovered from it. It’s hard to conclude that his band, with some attitude in its name, notwithstanding, and initially having the blessings of a charismatic Beatle in McCartney, did flop and eventually failed to make an impressive run of hits. Ham wandered in the music scene for some time, while trying to resuscitate his place among rock’s elites. Ham’s death through a noose suffered a chain of negative events and culminated into another hanging, this time by a fellow member of the band
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| "When The Music's Over" |
JIM MORRISON (The Doors)
He was the complete opposite of everything Sixties. While everybody’s looking for some peace and good vibes to all men, Morrison was breaking on through to the other side. His repertoires were dark, witchy and hostile. A self-styled troubadour, Morrison haunted the psychedelic landscape with his own version of inferno, a smorgasbord of negative utopias drenched with a lot of testosterones. Charismatic but uneven, Morrison rose to the rock mountain as fast as he tumbled down. Frustrated over the lack of musical styles available at his disposal, Morrison simply exposed himself to conjure other forms of expression that haven’t been explored yet. And this led him to his infamous arrest. Seeking hiatus from The Doors, Morrison moved on with his poetry. Emulating almost his dark, brooding alcoholic heroes in Rimbaud and Kerouac, Morrison died in his bathtub, apparently from a heart attack, while still holding on to his bacchanalia.
He was the complete opposite of everything Sixties. While everybody’s looking for some peace and good vibes to all men, Morrison was breaking on through to the other side. His repertoires were dark, witchy and hostile. A self-styled troubadour, Morrison haunted the psychedelic landscape with his own version of inferno, a smorgasbord of negative utopias drenched with a lot of testosterones. Charismatic but uneven, Morrison rose to the rock mountain as fast as he tumbled down. Frustrated over the lack of musical styles available at his disposal, Morrison simply exposed himself to conjure other forms of expression that haven’t been explored yet. And this led him to his infamous arrest. Seeking hiatus from The Doors, Morrison moved on with his poetry. Emulating almost his dark, brooding alcoholic heroes in Rimbaud and Kerouac, Morrison died in his bathtub, apparently from a heart attack, while still holding on to his bacchanalia.
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| "Friend of The Devil" |
(The Grateful Dead)
Dead guys tell no tales, so they say. But Pigpen was pretty much accustomed to that kind of reception. One of the original members of The Grateful Dead, Ron gives acid to the always raucous crowd surrounding the band. The Dead, however, went on to record and tour following his demise, but Pigpen’s presence is still very much a part of the groove. Rumor has it that Pigpen looked twice his age when he died, a culmination of long binges in so short a time leading to a wasting away of internal organs. Yet it’s hard to imagine The Dead without the mere mention of "Pigpen", a kind of glue that probably enabled Jerry Garcia to exploit at the expense of his keyboard player. Pigpen simply gave justice to what The Dead preached for a long time, you can be grateful even when you’re dead.
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| "Born Under a Bad Sign" |
JIMI HENDRIX (Jimi Hendrix Experience, Band of Gypsies)
They all envied him, and at the same time threatened. Hendrix played his guitar like there's no tomorrow. He burst into the limelight via the Monterey Pop Festival, where he unleashed the demons of dexterity in guitar playing and burned his equipment afterwards, signifying that he had arrived on fire. From then on, there’s no stopping the wah-wah and the purple haze hovering the psychedelic scene all the way through to Woodstock, and elevated the Star-Spangled Banner into a generative drug across the continent. The press, however, saw in him as a victim of a conspiracy, and adjudged his apparent death as homicide, contrary to his purported capitulation, where he allegedly choked on his own vomit. But Hendrix not only transcended himself from a mere musician, he also somehow managed his way through into the consciousness of a nation bereft of some heroes amid inflation at home and the Vietnam War. No guitarist, over the past four decades since his death, has made an interest and influence in rock other than what Hendrix did. He simply made the guitar a perfect toy.
ALAN “BLIND OWL” WILSON
(Canned Heat)
Wilson must have been a disciple of Chairman Mao when he serenaded the freaks to go up in the country. It had all the connections by the time he sang his famous tune with that of the Cultural Revolution in China at the height of Mao’s reign. But Wilson was no fellow traveler; his quiet, unassuming rhythm was the soul of an angry band during the last half of the hippie settlement. So smooth was his approach on rock that he seemed to exude a studious attitude on stage, minimal movements, but with a host of angst at every stride. Wilson was one of the few rock stars in the Sixties to extend his influence outside of music, and took a curious interest in the environment and its preservation. He, however, was always on the road, and drugs became a handy companion. He died apparently of an overdose, immediately after a successful tour in Europe. Canned Heat was never the same again, and disbanded after a few unsuccessful tries.
They all envied him, and at the same time threatened. Hendrix played his guitar like there's no tomorrow. He burst into the limelight via the Monterey Pop Festival, where he unleashed the demons of dexterity in guitar playing and burned his equipment afterwards, signifying that he had arrived on fire. From then on, there’s no stopping the wah-wah and the purple haze hovering the psychedelic scene all the way through to Woodstock, and elevated the Star-Spangled Banner into a generative drug across the continent. The press, however, saw in him as a victim of a conspiracy, and adjudged his apparent death as homicide, contrary to his purported capitulation, where he allegedly choked on his own vomit. But Hendrix not only transcended himself from a mere musician, he also somehow managed his way through into the consciousness of a nation bereft of some heroes amid inflation at home and the Vietnam War. No guitarist, over the past four decades since his death, has made an interest and influence in rock other than what Hendrix did. He simply made the guitar a perfect toy.
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| "My Time Ain't Long" |
(Canned Heat)
Wilson must have been a disciple of Chairman Mao when he serenaded the freaks to go up in the country. It had all the connections by the time he sang his famous tune with that of the Cultural Revolution in China at the height of Mao’s reign. But Wilson was no fellow traveler; his quiet, unassuming rhythm was the soul of an angry band during the last half of the hippie settlement. So smooth was his approach on rock that he seemed to exude a studious attitude on stage, minimal movements, but with a host of angst at every stride. Wilson was one of the few rock stars in the Sixties to extend his influence outside of music, and took a curious interest in the environment and its preservation. He, however, was always on the road, and drugs became a handy companion. He died apparently of an overdose, immediately after a successful tour in Europe. Canned Heat was never the same again, and disbanded after a few unsuccessful tries.
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| "The Last Time" |
He was the epitome of a Rolling Stone, always rolling. Jones was the driving force of the early Stones, both on and off the stage. And he seemed to have a fashionable view of rock ‘n roll, wearing flamboyantly than the rest of the band, always mindful of the lights and had a panache of brokering talents like a road manager, which he demonstrated by introducing Hendrix at Monterey. But Jones’ involvement with the Stones diminished as the groovy era came to a close, and was even mocked in rock circles as the band’s “puppet”, which saw his alienation towards the rest of the Stones increased. With his good looks and boyish charm, Jones tried to squeeze his reputation as one of rock’s amiable personalities after a series of disagreements within the band. But it was a question of too little, too late, Jones died from drowning, allegedly after he suffered a severe drug overdose.
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| "Try (Just a Little Bit Harder)" |
JANIS JOPLIN
(Big Brother and the Holding Company, Kosmic Blues Band, Full Tilt Boggie)
She screamed like she was crying for help. But her brand of balling was an imposing fixture of blues and booze played out in boom. Joplin dominated the rock pond, infested either by horny males or virginal vixens, by sheer force of screaming alone. Talented but tormented for the most part, Joplin suffered through years of severe depression and low self-esteem. Her music, however, remained solid despite jumping from one band to another, and she went on to become a seminal figure in the field of blues. Joplin was everywhere in the Sixties, from Haight Ashbury to Woodstock; everyman, from Morrison to Kristofferson, and everything, from Southern Comfort to Heroin. Joplin was part of the Triumvirate of Rock Stars who died at the height of the hippie era (with Hendrix and Morrison). Drug abuse abruptly ended the life of this howling personality, whose voice sends a seething shock wave in a generation of peace and piety into the putrid politics of Bobby McGee.
Other rock stars are not included in the list, but still found themselves under the shadow of this great statistical undertaker. Les Harvey, Gary Thain, Mia Zapata, Kristen Pfaff, and even the legendary Robert Johnson, are some of rock's heavyweights who went six feet blow the stage upon reaching that dreaded age. And this is just another crack in rock ‘n roll’s varied acclaim that tries to carve out a niche despite its baffled outcome from its former players.
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