Musical Legends Who Died at 27
Musical Legends Who Died at 27
The granddaddy of them all, Robert Johnson is possibly the 27 Club’s first documented member. While the legendary bluesman is something of a household name these days, he actually enjoyed very little commercial success during his short, mysterious life. In fact it wasn’t until his recordings were reissued in the early 60s that his work really reached a serious commercial audience. A massive influence on successive generations of musicians, this master of the Delta blues has been described as “the most important blues singer that ever lived” by Eric Clapton, and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in their first ever ceremony. Born in 1911, his landmark recordings from 1936-1937 have since become blues standards. Songs like “I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom” and “Cross Roads Blues” forever altered the course of American popular music, and laid the seeds of what would later become rock-n-roll. Johnson lived an itinerant, undocumented life that spawned a heady mythology in the years following his death. Some claim that in exchange for his mastery of the blues, Johnson sold his soul to the devil on the crossroads at midnight, an idea that Johnson himself touched upon in the lyrics to his song, “Me and the Devil”—“Early this morning when you knocked upon my door/Early this morning, when you knocked upon my door/And I said, 'Hello, Satan, I believe it's time to go…” The details of his death near Greenwood, Mississippi in 1938 are just as mysterious as the rest of his life. One popular account claims that he was poisoned via a strychnine-laced bottle of whiskey after he flirted with the wife of a juke-joint owner. The musicologist Robert “Mack” McCormick even claimed to have tracked down the man responsible and obtained a written confession (although he declined to name the culprit). Others claim that this account is unrealistic, as Johnson supposedly died days—not hours—after ingesting the fatal dose of poison. Whatever the truth, his short, tragic life and legacy of influential, mold-breaking music has ensured him a place in rock’n’roll history, and the kind of supernatural status among other musicians that most ordinary mortals can only dream of achieving.
Jeremy Michael Ward
While he might not be an immediately familiar name, the guitarist, sound technician and vocal operator Jeremy Michael Ward earned his place on the list for his involvement with the incredibly intense rock-n-roll outfit The Mars Volta and the psychedelic dub act De Facto, as well as for his untimely death from a heroin overdose in 2003. While—to my ears, at least—The Mars Volta have never been a band that truly managed to reach their full potential on record, they are definitely one of the most intense and jaw-dropping live acts you could ever hope to see. My ears are still ringing from a show of theirs I caught in 2002 in London, and in fact my daughter's ears are possibly still ringing from it as well, since my wife was six months pregnant at the time. Born from the ashes of punk band At The Drive In, on paper The Mars Volta seem like a rather strange proposition: they have been described as everything from progressive rock to jazz-fusion as well as a few other left field genres in-between. When you hear them up close it’s even further out than that, and on their debut album “De-Loused in the Comatorium,” the influence of Jeremy Michael Ward was profound. A sound sculptor extraordinaire, his technical wizardry helped the band to push boundaries, and egged them on into ever crazier and further-out paroxysms of sonic exploration. His death in Los Angeles came a mere month before that album hit stores. Even after his death, Ward would continue to exert a strong positive influence on the band: the follow-up album “Frances The Mute” was directly inspired by a diary Ward found while working for a repossession business in Los Angeles. And his overdose is said to have convinced Mars Volta members Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez to quit using opiates themselves.
The guitarist and lyricist of Welsh rock outfit The Manic Street Preachers has long been an object of fascination and utter devotion in his native Great Britain. While the band themselves came across as a perverse blend of Clash-style electioneering and Guns’n’Roses style cock rock on their debut double album “Generation Terrorists," it was the complex and often beautiful lyrics of Richey Edwards that immediately demanded the most attention from the press and the public. A damaged soul, Edwards was prone to bouts of depression and self-harm. Infamously, when challenged by an NME journalist that the band's image and subject matter was little more than a cynical pose, he pulled out a razor blade and gouged the legend 4-REAL into his forearm, creating an iconic, gory image that was soon plastered all over the music press. However it was his lyrical contributions to the band's third album “The Holy Bible” that truly cemented his legend as a master of bleak lyrical imagery. At the time the album was recorded, Edwards was in the grip of a severe depression, and was struggling with anorexia and alcoholism. This precarious mental state spurred some of the finest writing of his career: the tracks “Mausoleum” and “The Intense Humming of Evil” were inspired by the band’s visits to the concentration camps at Dachau and Belsen. “4 st 7 lbs” took its title from the weight that makes death reportedly unavoidable for anorexics. Titles like “Of Walking Abortion” and “Die In The Summertime” give a clue to the kind of pitch-black subject matter contained within. The lyrics of one of the album's catchiest tracks, “Yes” gave a clue to Edwards’ state of mind: “I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you, Puking—shaking—sinking I still stand for old ladies, Can't shout, can't scream, hurt myself to get pain out.” Edwards vanished on February 1, 1995, six months after the album was released, although he wasn’t officially pronounced “presumed deceased” until November 2008. His cult following remains fanatical in the UK; Caitlin Moran wrote in the Times that Edwards became “a cause celebre among depressives, alcoholics, anorexics and self-mutilators, because he was the first person in the public eye to talk openly about these subjects, not with swaggering bravado and a subtext of 'look how tortured and cool I am' but with humility, sense and, often, bleak humor.” The events leading up to his death inspired a novel (Richard by Ben Myers) and the Manic Street Preachers 2009 album “Journal For Plague Lovers” was written around lyrics given to bassist Nicky Wire by Edwards a few weeks before his disappearance.
Pete De Freitas
Pete Louis Vincent de Freitas was born in 1961 in Port of Spain, Trinidad and Tobago, and gained fame as the drummer for legendary Liverpool post-punk outfit Echo and the Bunnymen. De Freitas’ drumming can be heard on their classic albums “Crocodiles," “Heaven Up Here," “Porcupine” and the landmark “Ocean Rain,” the hit record that spawned what is probably their best known song, “Killing Moon." While they were most successful in their native England, Echo certainly made headway in the US when their songs were featured on the soundtracks of hit movies like Pretty in Pink and Donnie Darko. The band was a thing of shimmering beauty, aided in no small part by De Freitas’ powerhouse drumming and singer Ian McCulloch’s incredible vocal prowess. Sadly De Freitas died in 1989 in a motorcycle accident when he returned to Liverpool from London a year after McCulloch left to pursue a solo career. While the band would later reform, they never again managed to recapture the magic of those wonderful, De Freitas-era albums.