The 27 Club & Me

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a drummer.

Early on, when I expressed that sentiment to my dad – who is a carbon copy of Frank Zappa, down to the musical genius and long curly hair – his response was, “I’m not carrying that shit around...plus, the world needs more female bass players.”

He promptly got me a bongo. I gave the instrument a few courtesy whacks and headed towards my bedroom, where I picked up the dulled-red sixties Hagstrom bass guitar that had been waiting there all along and began plucking away at the rusty strings mindlessly, sans-amplifier. Next up, I assumed, would be record deals, fame, and fortune.

The year is now 2024. I have played with bands in various dingy venues from Harlem to Bushwick and am the purveyor of a treasure trove of songs the rest of the world has not been privy to. I also work a 9-5. Fame and fortune not yet found.

To make matters worse, a few months ago, I turned 27.

For musicians and fans of rock’n’roll history, 27 is a bone-chilling number with a unique significance. Some of the most groundbreaking, prominent names in music, particularly rock, died during their 27th year of life. The 27 Club, as it’s commonly known, consists of The Rolling Stones’ Brian Jones (death due to drowning via alcohol intoxication, 1969), Jimi Hendrix (overdose, 1970), Big Brother & The Holding Company’s Janis Joplin (overdose, 1970), The Doors’ Jim Morrison (overdose, 1971), Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain (suicide, 1994), and Amy Winehouse (alcohol intoxication, 2011).

Of course, notable musicians have died at 27 years of age long before Jones. The first member of note being legendary blues pioneer Robert Johnson who passed in 1938 (death certificate states syphilis, however it has been speculated he was poisoned). More recent members include the likes of rapper Mac Miller who overdosed in 2018 and continues to add to the ever-expanding club.

Rock historian Howard Sounes notes in his book, 27, which chronicles the phenomenon, that Cobain’s death brought the term “The 27 Club” into the popular zeitgeist after his mother, following his death, told the local papers, “Now he's gone and joined that stupid club. I told him not to join that stupid club."

And yes, there is a club harder to access than Berghain.

So how does one qualify for membership in this exclusive club? Requirements are as follows:

1- Suffer an early demise during the 27th year of living,

2- Exude an air of mystery surrounding aforementioned death,

3- Provide society an unbelievable, irreplicable contribution to art, typically music of the rock variety,

4- (Preferred) An affinity for black-tar heroin and ever-poisonous lovers

Sonically, these musicians achieved something one could spend lifetimes attempting to – their rhythms, lyrical themes and vocal textures transcend their short years. Each member is ethereal in their own regard. It’s difficult to believe they barely made it to age 27, led alone hailed from planet earth.

The grip and power of Joplin’s rugged voice is otherworldly – just listen to the depth of her timbre on “Summertime.” Winehouse couldn’t have just been a wide-eyed Londoner with a taste in men as bad as my own; she was clearly a messenger from above with a silky voice akin to the girl groups of the sixties and the late Etta James. And Jim Morrison was, in essence, a gorgeous pale apparition who chanted tortured poetry and managed to float amongst us without anyone noticing.

However, there is something to be said about Kurt Cobain and Jimi Hendrix, who both hailed from Washington state. Perhaps the City of Angels is not Los Angeles, but somewhere between Aberdeen and Seattle. How else do you explain Hendrix’ ability to turn the Star-Spangled Banner into a delicious rock melody, or Cobain’s knack for influencing the youth against the establishment using little more than the emotion within his voice layered over dark chords? Surely, it's something beyond a little Teen Spirit.

To point out the obvious, death at 27 being the commonality amongst these acts is, in layman’s terms, weird as fuck. Perhaps the Good Lord took back these lives as some kind of punishment for society-at-large’s general selfishness and lack of appreciation for the arts. Or maybe it is just sheer coincidence?

As much as I love to indulge a conspiracy theory now and again, the sad reasoning for these deaths at a certain age may be that each of these figureheads suffered from lifetimes of struggle – whether it be addiction to opiates, barbiturates, or alcohol, suicidal ideation, succumbing to the pressures of fame at a young age, turmoil in personal relationships, or mental illness. As Sounes writes, Jones and several of the other 27s showed signs of mood and personality disorders from a young age.

This being said, on my 27th birthday, I began to ask a lot of questions. If I haven’t made it to infamy yet, will I ever be let through the gates of rock’n’roll heaven? Or is my time for success as a musician fleeting with the last six months of my twenty-seventh year? Or is all of this pondering a symptom of the modern pressures to find success and validation from someone or something other than yourself?

Fortunately, I have gleaned many answers from these incredibly beautiful and influential 27-year-old gods and goddesses – even if only via biography or hours streaming their sultry tunes.

To get this out of the way – I do not think Kurt Cobain or Janis Joplin would give me the now-standard advice of indulging in ‘self-care’ by running up my credit card bill on bar tabs and therapy. As much as I would love for this to be the case.

I believe any member of the 27s would tell me, or you for that matter, to sit the fuck down and write – whether its music, lyrics, or devastating notes app poetry (for your eyes only) – and exercise your creative muscles any way you can – take a walk, do ayahuasca, whatever. Take more time out of your day to just feel. Do what you can to be a good person. Enjoy the little things, because life comes at you fast. The writeups and followers aren’t endgame. They never really were.

Ultimately, I think we need to learn to redefine success. The founding member of the 27 Club, Johnson, can help us out here. He achieved little notoriety during his life, but his post-mortem contributions to music became an undeniable foundation for rock’n’roll as we know it. The lack of fame didn’t hold him back from creating his entire life, and look where he is now – in the king’s throne in the heavens.

Stop worrying so much – your big day will come – and for now, sit back and enjoy some fuckin music.

And whenever you’re feeling lost, I suggest you put on a few tracks from some of the greats, look up to the sky, and ask Kurt, Jimi, Amy, Jim, or any of the other 27s for guidance.

But again, what do I know. I haven’t even made it to 28 yet. I’m still just a kid.