Unless you want to accuse the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame of hyperbole, Jimi Hendrix is “arguably the greatest instrumentalist in the history of rock music,” which is why his death still causes music fans to contemplate all the amazing music we might have heard had he lived. Frustrated by, and disillusioned with, the music industry, Hendrix wasn’t in the best of psychological states in the final days of his life — not only was he battling a recording contract dispute, contemplating leaving his manager, and dealing with the departure of bassist Billy Cox from his band, but he’d also been hit with a paternity suit, was having trouble sleeping, and — on top of everything else — was stricken with writer’s block. On the morning of September 18, 1970, Hendrix attempted to battle his insomnia by taking nine sleeping tablets, which left him so incapacitated that he choked on his own vomit and died.

“He’s Hot, He’s Sexy, and He’s Dead,” was the headline of the September 17, 1981, Rolling Stone cover story about Jim Morrison. Of course, by that point, the lead singer of the Doors had been gone for over a decade, but you never know how long a rock star’s legacy will last beyond their death. As it happens, Morrison may be even more popular now than he was then, both because of his music and because his excesses have been richly detailed in a number of books (not to mention Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, The Doors.) As such, it’s easy to forget that he’s no longer walking among us, but despite rumors that have floated around for the past 45 years, he’s definitely gone — on July 3, 1971, Morrison was found dead in his bathtub in his Paris apartment, the cause of death listed as heart failure. The fact that no autopsy was performed has led to theories about how he really died, whether he overdosed accidentally, if he was murdered, or if he even died at all. He did, of course, but his legacy still looms so large, it’s like he never left.

Inspired by beautifully bluesy ladies like Billie Holiday, Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Big Mama Thornton, Janis Joplin quickly developed a reputation in the rock community for being able to furiously belt out numbers just as well as any man. As Vogue’s Richard Goldstein wrote of her, “She slinks like tar, scowls like war … Clutching the knees of a final stanza, begging it not to leave … Janis Joplin can sing the chic off any listener.” But she could also hold her own against men when it came to drinking and drugging, and therein lay the problem. Although she blew audiences’ minds at the Monterey Pop Festival, Woodstock, and on the legendary Festival Express train tour through Canada, Joplin’s heroin habit was profound, and her alcohol intake was just as bad. Although efforts were made to sway her into rehab, she finally succumbed to her addictions on October 4, 1970, dying of a heroin overdose..

Although already a soap opera actor while he was still in single digits — securing the role of Kevin Buchanan on One Life to Live when he was all of six years old, it was as a teen heartthrob that Jonathan Brandis found the greatest success of his career, courtesy of the NBC series seaQuest DSV and films like The NeverEnding Story II, Sidekicks, Ladybugs, and Stephen King’s It. When seaQuest wrapped its run in 1996, however, things began to slow down for Brandis. Although he secured roles in Outside Providence and Ride with the Devil, his role in the 2002 Bruce Willis film Hart’s War was virtually trimmed out of existence in the film’s final cut, and his 2003 pilot 111 Gramercy Park failed to be picked up. Whether it was because of these turns of events, or for utterly unrelated reasons, Brandis hanged himself on November 12, 2003.

If you’re into the blues, classic rock, or just music in general, you owe a debt to Robert Johnson. The man defined Chicago and delta blues, despite only recording a handful of tunes. But when those tunes include “Sweet Home Chicago,” “Crossroad,” and “Love In Vain,” you’ve already written more than enough to ensure your artistic immortality.

Unfortunately, his physical mortality didn’t last long. Johnson’s death, like Johnson himself, is shrouded in mystery and rumor. This is the guy, after all, who claimed he sold his soul to Satan at a Mississippi crossroads in exchange for mastery of the guitar. There’s no 100 percent confirmation of how he died on August 16, 1938, only that he did. According to Mother Jones, some say he died of syphilis, some say he had a tissue disorder called Marfan syndrome, others insist he was poisoned by the jealous boyfriend of a woman he was wooing, and still others say Johnson’s own girlfriend poisoned him.

The only person left alive who knew Johnson, a bluesman named David Honeyboy Edwards, claims that he witnessed Johnson’s murder, and that it was indeed a man angered that Johnson was flirting with his girlfriend. If true, this jealous guy poisoned Johnson’s whiskey, and a few days after drinking it, the man was dead. He did not have possession over Judgment Day after all.

Pete Ham of Badfinger is a tragic example of the business side of the music industry completely destroying the creative side and taking lives with it. The band itself was poised to be the next Beatles, even getting signed to the Beatles’ label, Apple Records. Ham was the smiling face of the band, a fine guitarist who had limitless potential. But then, the very business that was poised to make him huge completely betrayed him.

The band found financial representation in New York businessman Stan Polley, who netted them a six-figure contract with Warner Records in 1974, but would only give them a grand a month in allowance. The rest, he claimed, was being saved and invested. In reality, it was being stolen — Warner sued the band after realizing $600,000 in advances were missing. Basically, Polley and others had cashed in Badfinger’s checks for themselves. This destroyed the band, and especially Ham. Financially broke, emotionally broken, and with a child on the way, Ham was desperate. On April 23, 1975, Ham and bandmate Tom Evans met to discuss what to do. After drinking ten scotches, Ham told Evans, “Don’t worry, I know a way out.” That way out was permanent, as he went home and hanged himself early the next morning. Eight and a half years later, still devastated by his friend’s suicide and still fighting for money he earned years ago, Evans drank heavily and hanged himself, too.

Had Linda Jones lived longer, she might have become one of the most famous gospel-tinged soul singers of all time. In 1967, Jones hit the big time with her song “Hypnotized”; she was on her way to becoming a star along the lines of Cissy Houston and Dionne Warwick, only fiercer. As Hampton Roads pointed out, Jones didn’t let up on the fiery drama in her voice even when threatening to cross over into the pop scene. She would still wail, and her voice would still sometimes get distorted on the microphone, such was her power. Would she have stayed that pure in the decades to come? We don’t know because she didn’t complete her third decade.

Jones, a diabetic, was at her mom’s house on March 14, 1972, following an afternoon show at the Apollo in Harlem. She asked her mom to wake her up from a nap in time for her evening show. When her mom went to do that, she found Jones unconscious. Her mother called for an ambulance, but she was already gone, the victim of a diabetic coma. It’s not the most soulful way to go, but a sadly realistic one.

English rock band Echo and the Bunnymen have been active and successful since the late 1970s, though drummer Pete de Freitas sadly only lived to see part of it. He joined in 1980 and played on the band’s first five albums. According to the band’s manager, Bill Drummond, he was originally seen as “the sanest and most balanced of the Bunnymen.” But according to Mojo 4 Music, drugs and manic episodes took their toll on Freitas, and he actually left the band in 1986. He returned the next year to record a new album, and this time he was married; a child came the following year. It looked like Freitas was back to being the sane one.

Tragically, this new phase of his life didn’t last long. On June 14, 1989, Freitas was riding his motorcycle from Liverpool to London when he collided with a car and died. Echo and the Bunnymen continued without him, though with a far darker air than before.

Joseph Merrick wasn’t exactly an entertainer by choice. He suffered from extreme deformities almost his entire life, though to this day nobody knows what he had. According to the BBC, some believe he had Proteus syndrome — a rare condition where bones and tissue overgrow — or possibly neurofibromatosis, where tumors grow around the nervous system. But since his bones have been bleached over the years, analyzing his DNA has thus far proven difficult.

Merrick was unable to find steady work or legitimate human affection — people simply found him too grotesque. He wound up in a British workhouse system, until he realized his curse was the only way he could ever make a legitimate income. And so, he joined the freak show circuit as “The Elephant Man,” charging people to gawk at his enlarged head, protruding trunk-like forehead growth, and overgrown right arm. This lasted until England got disgusted enough to outlaw his act, and he moved to Belgium. They too were disgusted, plus Merrick’s manager basically stole his money and sent him back to England, destitute. At that point, Merrick had little choice but to remain in a hospital for the rest of his days.

On April 11, 1890, those days ended; Merrick died in his sleep. Due to the extreme weight of his head, he was unable to sleep lying down, and instead snoozed while sitting up. That night, however, he attempted to, as his friend Frederick Treves put it, “be like other people,” and crushed his own windpipe as a result.

Harry Hains was a talented young performer just starting to break into the public consciousness, through his appearances on popular TV shows like American Horror Story, The Deleted, and The OA. His most significant roles proved to be in independent films such as The Surface (2015), where he portrayed a young man, raised in foster homes, searching for a sense of family: a reviewer on Eye for Film credited the youthful actor with skillfully enabling viewers to identify and empathize with his distanced, disaffected character. Towards the end of 2019, according to the Los Angeles Times, the 27-year-old actor was working on a horror movie titled Klowns, and the miniseries Xtra Life.

Behind the scenes, unfortunately, Hains was also struggling with addiction and mental illness. On January 10th, his mother Jane Badler, herself a performer in the 2009 science fiction series V,  shared on her Instagram that her son had died a few days prior, writing that, “A brilliant spark shone bright too short a time … I will miss you Harry every day of my life.” In a comment on her post, famed actor John Stamos shared his condolences, and credited Hains’ “sense of humor and kindness” for getting him through a dark time in his own life. Due to the nature of the actor’s personal struggles, it has been speculated that he committed suicide, though the official cause of death has not been released. 

If you or anyone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).