Amy Winehouse: Another burnt out case at 27

Because she was as well-known for her problems with drugs and alcohol as for her raw, soulful music, the weekend commentators continually referred to the “grim inevitability” of Amy Winehouse’s death on Saturday afternoon. But social media reactions revealed a real level of public shock – for while her sad end may have been increasingly probable, it was never inevitable.

More rock stars seem to survive – and even recover – from their addictions than the tragic few who succumb. Against all the odds, Keith Richards is still with us. Even more remarkably, his recent memoir proved he can even remember most of a life fuelled largely by illegal substances. Ushered into rehab by another former addict, Elton John, Robbie Williams (who once seemed to be on a rapid downhill spiral) has spent the summer wowing stadium crowds in a reunion with Take That. Last month, I interviewed two 1970s legends – James Taylor and Stevie Nicks – who both spoke frankly about their struggles with anxiety, depression and drugs. The same sensitivities and inner tensions that made them such unique artists also made them vulnerable to addiction. Now in their sixties, both told me that there were times in their youth – and at the height of their fame – when they were desperate and felt themselves destined for an early death. Lost in all that darkness, neither star could have imagined themselves as they are today – both claiming to be happier than they’ve ever been. Taylor was one of the artists who inspired Winehouse to pick up a guitar – it’s a dreadful shame she now won’t follow him in a long and fulfilling life.

What was inevitable – from the moment Winehouse’s age was announced – was the flurry of references to the fact that the singer had joined “the 27 Club”. This is a reference to the presumed “statistical spike” in the number of rock stars who self-destruct at the age of 27. Indeed, back in 1969-71, there was a cluster of high-profile deaths which made 27 look like a dangerous age for a musician. First, ex-Rolling Stone Brian Jones was found at the bottom of his swimming pool in July 1969. His drink and drug use had contributed to his estrangement from the band and the coroner recorded a verdict of death by misadventure. Jimi Hendrix died after a party in London in September 1970 after taking too many sleeping pills. One month later, Janis Joplin overdosed on heroin. Jim Morrison’s body was discovered in a Paris bathtub in July 1971 possibly after he’d taken heroin belonging to his girlfriend, Pamela Courson, who also later died at the age of 27.

With four such iconic figures all dead at the same age, conspiracy theorists quickly began rooting around for more deaths at the “cursed” age. They found that the bluesman Robert Johnson – who supposedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his mighty talent – had died (possibly of strychnine poisoning) at 27. There were others. But, for a long time, nobody else of equally iconic status died at that age until Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain shot himself in April 1994, having attempted an overdose (of champagne and rohypnol) the previous month. He left a suicide note quoting a lyric from Neil Young’s song My My, Hey Hey: “It’s better to burn out/ Than to fade away.” Journalists immediately – and erroneously – made the link to the deaths of 1969-70 when Cobain’s mother said that her son had “gone and joined that stupid club”. In fact, she was referring to the number of suicides in the family.

In October 2008, Eric Segalstad and Josh Hunter investigated the phenomenon in a book called The 27s in which they debunk “the greatest myth of rock ’n’ roll”. Of course, lots of iconic rock stars have destroyed themselves at other ages (from Sid Vicious at 21 to Elvis at 42) and others, through accident and illness, at all ages. But, in a radio interview, Segalstad acknowledged that, “Mankind has always been fascinated by young death”, and that musicians such as Jones, Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison and Cobain “seem to share the sense of being lost, that they didn’t quite know where they were going. It’s probably difficult when you hit that age – you feel invincible or frustrated or both. How do you top yourself, in Jimi Hendrix’s case? You’ve already changed the sound of the guitar and rock ’n’ roll for ever. Where do you go from there, without becoming idiosyncratic?”

Winehouse certainly fitted that description. This week’s obituaries refer to her “trailblazing” talent. She did things her own way, combining the high drama and retro stylings of the 1960s pop-soul she loved with lyrics of frank 21st-century vernacular. She meant every word she sang. Music critics credit her with clearing the way for a new generation of upfront and personal female singer songwriters such as Lily Allen, Adele and Lady Gaga. The phenomenal success of Back to Black had raised expectations of a follow-up, while Winehouse had divorced the man who inspired it and was struggling with increasingly debilitating addictions. She spoke often of her insecurities. It seemed she was too scared to walk out on to a stage without chemical assistance which then marred her performance, saw her booed off and reinforced her sense of failure.

Even those who never saw her live will know that her shows became hit-and-miss. I was lucky enough to watch her perform several times at the Texan South by Southwest festival. It was an extraordinary experience. The first time, she was singing in the mid-afternoon to a half-full tent of semi-interested industry insiders. A few days later, the Americans were queueing around the block and weeping in the streets afterwards. And yet there was no difference in the quality of her performance. I think that if she’d been singing just to me and a sound engineer, she’d have poured her heart and soul into it just as she did when she sang jazz standards as a girl. She just closed her eyes, swayed, and all the pain, defiance and desolation of the romantic break-up which had inspired the songs on Back to Black came yowling out of her. She gave me goose bumps.

After one show, we chatted and it seemed inconceivable that such a huge outpouring of emotion could have come from such a tiny person. I couldn’t summon the nerve to ask her about her music – it all seemed too personal and the singer simply too vulnerable. Seeing huge tabloid photos of her, drunk and sneering, and listening to her mouthy lyrics, I can understand why the idea of her as a vulnerable little human might seem surprising. But she was. Afterwards an editor asked what I made of her and was startled when I said I felt sorry for her. By that time her sales were soaring – Back to Black would storm the American charts and the Grammys. But something wasn’t right. I hoped she’d be able to find her way to some sort of happiness and stability.

Janis Joplin said: “Whether people know it or not, they like their blues singers miserable. Maybe my audience can enjoy my music more if they think I’m destroying myself.” I hope that Amy Winehouse didn’t believe that. Music fans do love genuine emotion. We hope the artists get as much from expressing that emotion as we do from listening to it. As James Taylor told me, every time he performs the songs he wrote as a troubled young heroin addict, he relives those emotions. He hopes the songs make those suffering as he once suffered feel less alone. But then he gets on with his life. Packing the O2 last week, he proved that musicians don’t have to make a choice between burning out or fading away. Let’s all hope that Amy Winehouse will be the last member of the 27 Club.