Jimi Hendrix. Janis Joplin. Jim Morrison. Brian Jones. Amy Winehouse. Kurt Cobain. Ron McKernan. (If you’re a Deadhead, you’d have known him as Pigpen.) The list goes on. All brilliant and talented musicians who died at 27. And the list expands when you add artists, actors and athletes.
Overdoses, alcohol poisoning, organ failure and suicide. Oh, and drowning. Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones was found at the bottom of a swimming pool and the coroner ruled it a case of “death by misadventure“. Look at the photograph on the last album he recorded. Look at his eyes. They’re vacant. Empty. He was already dead. And the name of that record, Between the Buttons, is a reference to peyote, a strong hallucinogenic drug.
He was only 27.
Of course there’s conjecture about the eerie significance of the number 27. But the simple fact is that all of these creative and prolific souls died way too young. Imagine the potential they could have realized. Imagine the contributions they might have made to the world given another 50 or 60 years on the planet. All but one of Pigpen’s original bandmates are still touring; Phil Lesh turned 81 this year and has 9 shows on the calendar at my favorite venue this fall. (Yeah, I’m a Deadhead.) The one who’s not is Jerry Garcia. He was a gifted composer and lyricist; his vast catalogue of music has been performed by hundreds of other bands and will live on forever. He was also a heroin addict. He made it to 50 but that’s still too young to die.
When I was 27 I didn’t even realize recovery was possible. I was drinking nearly every day and using lots of drugs. Every activity seemed to revolve around drinking. There were plenty of misadventures…and plenty of times I could have died. And everyone I knew drank like I did. Or so I thought. If there were people my age in recovery I’d never met one.
Today I work with addicts and alcoholics from their teens to their eighties. But it still takes me by surprise when someone barely old enough to drink embraces sobriety…instead of sex, drugs and rock & roll.
One of my favorite documentaries is Festival Express, a collection of film footage which chronicles a multi-city concert tour of Canada in 1970. A dozen bands travelled from city to city on a 14-car sleeper train outfitted with a drum kit, amps and multiple instruments including a Hammond B3 organ. The film showcases many of the amazing concert performances, but it’s all about the non-stop alcohol and drug-fueled party on the train between the shows. One scene shows a late night drunken jam session with The Dead’s Jerry Garcia, The Band’s Rick Danko and Janis Joplin. It’s hilarious…and heartbreaking. All three of them are wasted. And all three of them struggled with heroin addictions that led to their untimely deaths. Janis Joplin overdosed and died 3 months after getting off that train. Her performance of Cry Baby in Winnipeg will bring you to your knees.
She was only 27.
With great fame comes great responsibility and alcohol and drugs often provide a release from the grueling hours and constant pressure of expectations. Anxiety, depression, mood swings. For aspiring musicians this “checking out” often begins in their teens, and what starts out as stress relief soon becomes self-medication and eventually full-blown addiction by their mid-twenties. Some of them survive it. Some don’t. And many of the ones who survive only survive because they stop. Keith Richards stopped. Phil Lesh stopped. Musician and actor Russell Brand (one of Amy Winehouse’s closest friends) stopped. He is an activist and advocate for Alcoholics Anonymous, he’s written a book about recovery and he tours and speaks about his experiences. He wrote a moving article when Amy Winehouse died about the heartbreak of losing someone to addiction. About how when you love an addict you wait for that phone call. And eventually it comes.
And sometimes they’re only 27.
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