A new '27 Club' member
When the headline "Amy Winehouse found dead at 27" came barging into our Saturday afternoon, the word dead felt like a long-promised punch to the gut. It may not have surprised anyone, but it still hurt like hell.

When the headline "Amy Winehouse found dead at 27" came barging into our Saturday afternoon, the word dead felt like a long-promised punch to the gut. It may not have surprised anyone, but it still hurt like hell.
And then there was the "27" - rock-and-roll's most dangerous number. It's the age that took Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, and now a singer whose battles with drugs, drink, and depression were nightmarishly publicized in a mediascape her forebears never could have imagined.
Those forebears make up the "27 Club," a list of musicians who all died at 27. Ron "Pigpen" McKernan of the Grateful Dead died of a gastrointestinal hemorrhage linked to alcohol abuse. Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones died in his swimming pool. Chris Bell of Big Star died in a car accident. So did D. Boon of the Minutemen. Delta bluesman Robert Johnson died in 1938 under mysterious circumstances - some say he was poisoned, while others cite a Faustian deal with the devil. But he was definitely 27.
The eeriness of 27 has spurred decades of theorizing in music circles - enough to inspire Eric Segalstad's book The 27s: The Greatest Myth of Rock & Roll. Is it the age of the psychic slump? The age your body refuses to tolerate your addiction? The age when fate decides to give you a disease, have you murdered, or wrap your car around a telephone pole?
We only really know what happens to the 27s after 27: Their swirling mythologies congeal around a relatively small body of work. Many of these artists were young visionaries who left bold marks but didn't live long enough to slide into mediocrity.
- Chris Richards, Washington Post