Zackary Okun Dunivin: There’s a certain appeal in the idea of some of the brightest stars in the world burning out at the age of 27. The so-called 27 Club has captivated the public imagination for half a century.
Members include legendary musicians Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse. The idea is as seductive as it is tragic: a fusion of talent, fame and premature death at an extraordinary age.
But is there any truth to this phenomenon, or is it just a story we tell ourselves and each other about fame and youth?
In our recently published research, my colleague Patrick Kaminski and I explore why the 27 Club persists in the culture. Our intention was not to debunk the myth. After all, there is no reason to think that 27 is a particularly dangerous age beyond superstition.
Instead, we wanted to explore the 27 Club to understand how such a myth gains momentum and influences people’s perception of reality.
Does the 27 Club really exist?
The 27 Club’s origins date back to the early 1970s, following the deaths of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison – all at the age of 27, within the space of two years.
This eerie coincidence has left its mark on the collective memory. It wasn’t just their age. It was the common thread of musical genius, countercultural influence and the tragic pull of lives cut short by a cocktail of fame, drug use and the struggle to be human. The story is not only compelling, but almost mystical in its synchronicity.
By analyzing data from 344,156 notable deceased individuals listed on Wikipedia, we found that while there is no increased risk of dying at age 27, those who do die at that age receive significantly more public attention.
Using Wikipedia page views as a measure of fame, our research revealed that the legacies of these 27-year-olds are amplified, giving them more visibility than those who die at adjacent ages.
This increased visibility has a strange effect: people are more likely to encounter people who died at 27 than other young ages, even if they are unaware of the myth. This in turn creates the appearance of a greater risk of mortality at age 27. The myth of the 27 Club is a self-fulfilling prophecy: it became ‘real’ because we believed in it.
Why is the 27 Club a thing?
We believe that this phenomenon can be understood through three interrelated concepts: path dependence, stigmergy, and memetic reification.
Path dependence refers to the way random events can set a precedent that influences future outcomes. The initial cluster of high-profile deaths at age 27 was statistically unlikely – we estimate that one in 100,000 timelines would have four such famous deaths at age 27 – but it established a narrative trajectory that has shaped collective reality maintained and shaped.
Stigmergy describes how traces of an event or action left in the environment can indirectly coordinate future events or actions. In the digital age, platforms such as Wikipedia serve as repositories for collective memory.
The existence of a dedicated 27 Club page, with links to members’ pages, increases the visibility of those who die at 27. This creates a feedback loop: the more we click, the more prominent these figures become, and the more the myth is reinforced.
Finally, what we call memetic reification captures how beliefs can shape reality. We draw on a sociological concept called Thomas’s theorem, which states that if you “define a situation as real, the consequences are real.”
The 27 Club myth has tangible effects on cultural memory and fame. By giving meaning to the age of 27, society elevates the legacy of those who die at that age, giving material consequence to the myth.
Why do myths persist?
Why do such myths persist? At their core, myths are not about factual accuracy, but about stories that resonate with people. They thrive on mystery, tragedy, and the human tendency to find patterns, even in randomness.
The story of the 27 Club is poetic and reflects the fleeting nature of genius and the fragility of life. It’s a story that begs to be told and retold, regardless of its veracity.
This is not an isolated phenomenon. Cultural patterns often emerge from chance events that, through collective engagement and storytelling, become embedded in our understanding of the world.
Think about the evolution of language: why do we call a dog a ‘dog’? There is nothing doggy about the word. Philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein noted that almost all symbols are arbitrary. Some countries drive on the left side of the road, others on the right.
Although the choice to adopt left- or right-hand driving is influenced by neighboring countries or car manufacturers, it ultimately evolved from an arbitrary solution to the need to choose one side or the other. These conventions began as random events that became standardized and meaningful over time through social reinforcement.
The 27 Club acts as a lens through which you can explore the power of myths in shaping perceptions of history and reality. It highlights how collective beliefs can have real-world consequences and influence who is immortalized in cultural memory. It is a testament to the complex interplay between chance events, storytelling, and the mechanisms by which myths are perpetuated.
While it may seem like we’re busting the myth of the 27 Club, let’s not give up on the story. We are myth confidants, not myth breakers.
By unraveling the myth, we recognize the profound ways in which stories influence our collective consciousness. By understanding the processes behind myth formation, we can better appreciate the richness of culture and the stories people choose to tell.
Zackary Okun Dunivin, Postdoctoral Fellow in Communications, University of California, Davis
This article is republished from The conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
