We asked our poets why they chose the artists they chose. They had a lot to say about that.

Here are some of their answers:

‘A Flash in the Pan’ By Sandra Fortier

Several causes propelled me to write a poem for the 27 Book Club in memory of Malcom Hale, instrumentalist and lead guitarist for “Spanky and Our Gang.” The band revived the fondness of my parents reminiscing about Our Gang Comedies.  I especially enjoyed his light easy listening, sunshine music, when I tired of rock and classical music, and needed something in between to help me relax during college study breaks. 

Sadly, Malcom Hale’s death so young prevented him from writing more uplifting music of lazy days and pleasant Sundays.  I am very blessed to have heard their records and seen the group on TV.  May happy memories of “Spanky and our Gang” continue to live on! 

‘Manic Street Preacher 4Ever’ by Peter Devonald

 One of my friends at Lancaster University was obsessed by Richey Edwards, as an inspiration, a beacon of light in a culture that often chooses the banal and clichéd. Nothing Richey Edwards ever did was simple or trite, he pushed the lyrics of the Manic Street Preachers to the erudite extreme. On 15th May 1991 Richey Edwards gave his infamous NME interview, cutting ‘4 real’ into his arm with a razor during a chat with Steve Lamacq. It was in a response to the interviewer questioning whether they were real, poking all that he held sacred.
Edwards has stayed with me because of my friend - what he meant to her. The ambiguity of him going missing provided a strange turning point to a life that meant so much to so many. I don't think the Manic Street Preachers ever recovered - they lost their heart, their essence, their centre. For years they were a glorious beacon of how far music can push our culture into something deeper; how lyrics can be pure poetry. That is Richey Edwards' legacy to this world.
It felt odd delving into his life, not enough space or room to really do justice to an icon of our times. Decades have passed - this made it easier, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing this earlier. Over the years I have been offered commissions on stories that I have declined --- too soon, too raw, too impossible to write and be a fitting memorial to all those who have passed. I hope my poem is a paean of praise - Richey Edwards so deserves it, and still lives on for so many.

‘Bread, Drugs, and Rock & Roll’ by Dawn Levitt

When I first learned about the “Lost at 27” project, I immediately knew Kurt Cobain would be the subject of my poem because I already had a half-written poem about the intersection of our lives and deaths.  Kurt and I had many things in common – both born in 1967, divorced parents, dropped out in our senior years, homeless as teenagers, artistic, and overly sensitive to life in general. We also both played guitar left-handed although we wrote right-handed. His songs were his expression of pain just as my poems were for me.  Even our attempts at leaving this life had parallels, although I went first with Jack Daniels and sleeping pills while he chose champagne and Rohypnol a year later.  The synchronicity ends there.  I’m still alive because I accepted help.  Intervention and support save lives.  If you need help, dial 988 for the Suicide Hotline.

‘Enigma in Amazing Greatness’ by Sandra Fortier

My rebellious nature as a late teen especially attracted me to Jimi Hendrix’s music.  It mesmerized me as he experimented with different methods of playing and genres. I greatly admired him for his pioneering spirit which persevered despite negative public opinion and pigeonholing.   As an icon, he symbolized unrest in America during the late ’60’s and 1970’s with the Viet Nam War, civil rights,  and social justice. I deeply regret his death at such a young age.   Thus, in my own way,  writing a poem for the 27 Club book preserved his memory and that aspect of our history.

‘Southern Comfort’ by Gabby Gilliam

I have always loved Janis Joplin's voice. The husky richness of it helped make "Me and Bobby McGee" my go-to karaoke choice. I think I got a copy of Pearl through Columbia House as one of my CDs for a dollar (for those of you who remember mail-order CDs!). I'd crank my windows down and the volume up as I commuted between home and college, nearly shouting along with her. I listened to that CD until it was so scratched that the CD player in my car wouldn't play it anymore. I didn't find out until adulthood that she was also a favorite of my dad's. There are a few pictures of Janis where she resembles my mom, and I've always wondered if that influenced my dad's attraction to her music. I've listened to a few tracks of Janis live at her shows, and most of what I included in my poem comes from listening to her banter with the crowd and the knowledge of her struggle with addiction that eventually lead to her early death. 

‘Down in the Delta’ by Davion Moore

Robert Johnson was an immense talent who had a sense of mystery around him and his career. He is a member of the "27 Club" but the cause of his death is unknown. It is said his death certificate had information like the date and location but not the cause. Then, there is the legend at the crossroads and how he "sold his soul" for mastery of the guitar but even that story was tied to another blues musician named Tommy Johnson before it was tied to Robert. There was a belief that there were no pictures of him until a few were found later. There is so much mystery around him, but he made an impact on blues and music in general. Years after his death, he is considered one of the greatest guitarists of all time, he is a part of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and had a commemorative stamp at one point. His life and career is so fascinating, that I felt it was a good way to honor him but also explore his story. 

‘Ragtime Blues on 27th Street’ by Kelly Taylor

I chose to write about the composer Louie Chauvin because I immediately felt a connection between when he left school at age thirteen to join the Alabama Jubilee and when you listen to the song “Heliotrope bouquet.” I could hear his adventure in the sounds of the medley.  I was enthralled by this connection.