The 27 Club

“They tried to make me go to rehab and I said no, no, no...”

                -- “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse

   Some 2,500 years ago, Buddha offered the advice that the best path through life is the “middle way.”  The former prince who gave up his kingdom and all its pleasures to live naked and alone in the forest prior to becoming a saint learned that too much or too little of anything was no good.  In particular, he meant money, fame and power.

   We seldom think about the benefits of the middle way here in the West where songs such as “If I Had a Million Dollars” by Barenaked Ladies and “I Want to Be a Billionaire (so freakin’ bad)” by Travie McCoy spell out the daydreams of millions of people.  Winning the lottery, bagging the cute bachelor on TV, dancing to the stars and the meth-rush euphoria of being named an Idol are the dreams of our society as expressed in the media.  No one wants to get voted off the island, even though that might offer a saner, happier life.

   But considering the death of torch singer Amy Winehouse, one might pause to consider Buddha’s advice on just how unhappy one can become by “having it all.”

   Winehouse is in the 27 Club now, occupied by musicians who died on or around that age at the peak of their powers.  Jim Morrison -- died of an overdose in a bathtub in Paris. Jimi Hendrix -- choked on his vomit while ODing on drugs.  Robert Johnson -- poisoned with strychnine at age 26 by a jealous husband.  Hank Williams -- drank himself to death at age 29.  Janis Joplin -- heroin overdose. Kurt Cobain -- suicide by shotgun.

   Winehouse picked up the torch dropped in the ‘60s by British soul singers such as Petula Clark and Lulu and turned its flame a cool blue.  She had a voice that could snake around a phrase like a python, embracing the notes in a microsecond and squeezing the agony and anguish from a song straight into your heart.

   Add the beehive 'doo, the road map of tattoos, toothpick arms and kohl-dark eyes of an ancient Egyptian princess and Amy Winehouse was certainly a woman to remember.

   But a lot of female singers have the ability to wrangle a note, and one could argue that what took Winehouse to the top was her pursuit of dark material as exhibited on her breakout 2006 album, “Back to Black,”  

   On that album, which earned Winehouse a Grammy and critical acclaim, the theme of the songs tended to be rehab, drinkin’ and “doin’ blow.”  And of course the obligatory broken heart song or two.

   One might argue that this might be likely territory for a singer-surviver who’d been around the bar and booze scene for a few decades -- Lucinda Williams comes to mind -- but Winehouse was only 21 when she was recording this material.  Obviously, if you feel compelled to dwell on your rehab options at that age, you’re neck-deep in trouble.

   One could also argue that her get-drunk shtick did more to turn her into the butt of jokes on Leno and Letterman than it did to advance her career in the U.S.  It seems likely that Amy will sell more downloads from her coffin than she did while she was among us.

   One of life’s great lessons is “be careful you don’t get what you wish for.” The dream job turns out to be a nightmare; the beautiful woman or handsome man you pursue and place on a pedestal turns out to be a monster who eats you alive.  The fame shot through your veins like a drug burns you from the inside out...  That last bit is the theme of Eminem’s albums, “Relapse” and “Recovery.”

   Pop music is full of examples of stars who got the keys to the proverbial candy store but were still basically kids and couldn’t keep a lid on their desires.  Members of The Doors reported that Jim Morrison used to line up a row of screwdrivers on the bar -- his favorite drink -- and refuse to leave them for fear one would get snatched. He’d piss his leather pants rather than risk making the trip to the men’s room.

   Even lesser talents came to doom on the road to fame and fortune. Members of The Band, for instance, who served as Dylan’s backup band, made musical history, and produced some of the most acclaimed music of the ‘60s.  You’d think that with all of their adventures and success that the members of The Band would have been reasonably happy, but keyboardist Richard Manuel committed suicide while drummer Rick Danko died in his sleep of a drug overdose.

   Then there was Canned Heat, bearers of the boogie-woogie blues torch in the ‘60s.  When the blues lost its mojo to punk and disco in the ‘70s, the resulting depression lead to the suicides and overdoses of three visionary members.

   Successful musicians don’t have a monopoly on depression, drugs and suicide.  Author David Foster Wallace who wrote “Infinite Jest” in 1996 was at the peak of critical acclaim for his byzantine (and to me unreadable) books with a blank check available on demand from his publishers.

   But like grunge rocker Kurt Cobain, Wallace lived ‘too high up in his head,’ so to speak and never could master the demon of depression.   He hung himself at age 46 in 2008.

   Sometimes “having it all” is a bummer. For all her glory, Marilyn Monroe got heartbreak and a barbiturate overdose at age 36.  John F. Kennedy, Jr. had the resources to buy his own plane, but went down in a fog over the ocean at the age of 38 as night fell with his star. John Lennon shot at the age of 40 by a lunatic who was incensed about an article he’d read in Esquire magazine. Judy Garland’s emerald slippers couldn’t save her from a drug overdose at the age of 47...

  And Amy Winehouse?  Farewell to a comet that crossed our orbit, leaving a trail that others will surely follow at their peril.

   Robert Downes is author of "Planet Backpacker: The Good Life Bumming Around the World."  Check out my site!