Certain groups may have more famously perfected the art of eliminating band members, but music history is home to literally millions of artists and contributors who fell victim to layoffs, downsizing or outright firing.
As with any industry, the out-of-work musician faces a set of daunting questions: What happens now? Is this the end? Or just the beginning? Does success await on the unemployment line, or does the axe spell eminent doom? As usual, history suggests an answer lying somewhere in between.
Lisa Hannigan
As the raspy, feminine foil to Irish folkster Damien Rice, Lisa Hannigan nearly stole the show throughout Rice's debut, 2002's O. As Rice's popularity grew, so did his reputation as being reluctant to share the spotlight or his creative vision; when the Hannigan showcase "9 Crimes" became the biggest hit from Rice's widely-panned follow-up disc, 2006's 9, he began to express his frustrations more publicly, ultimately leading to Hannigan's dismissal in 2007 - as relayed to her (and the world at the same time) via a posting on Rice's website.
Hannigan jumped on the opportunity to work on some of the songs she never introduced to Rice, and in late 2008 released Sea Sew, her first solo album. The disc received huge critical acclaim and nominations for the Choice Music Prize as well as two nods at Ireland's Meteor Music Awards. Rice has not been heard from since 9; Hannigan has remained mostly silent on the duo's parting, although in the split she managed to take Rice's excellent percussionist, Tom Osander, with her.
John Coltrane
Most people know about John Coltrane's struggles with heroin addiction, but few people know that, at the same time, frequent collaborator and man-of-the-times Miles Davis had drug problems of his own. Although the two rose to prominence around Philadelphia and New York City almost simultaneously, Davis was said to have reservations about bringing a fellow user on board to the quintet he was forming in 1955. Davis' gamble was partially successful at first, with the Coltrane-inclusive quintet assembled a string of notable, if not landmark, albums for Prestige in 1956, but Coltrane's issues in part caused Davis to break up the quintet the following spring. During his layoff, Coltrane recorded and released his first masterpiece, 1957's Blue Train, which showed a more aggressive direction in blues-based jazz than what even Davis was working on.
Davis formed a new sextet in early 1958, again inviting Coltrane under the assumption that he would stay clean while working with Davis. Most accounts say Coltrane was at least clean while recording, which probably contributed to the success of both Milestones and Kind of Blue, the latter regarded as the greatest jazz album ever recorded.
However, by the spring of 1960, Coltrane's demons had resurfaced and he was back out on his own, troubled enough be a seen as a liability but regarded enough to be a bandleader. He would go on to record several notable albums, but none more so than 1965's A Love Supreme, a 33-minute "freebop" suite that stands to date as Coltrane's most famous work. His freedom wouldn't last long, however; in 1967, liver cancer took 40-year-old John Coltrane to the great smoky nightclub in the sky.
Dave Mustaine
In his days as lead guitarist for an early iteration of Metallica, the band had already earned a reputation for heavy drinking, and Dave Mustaine had the added distinction of being the heaviest drinker of them all, a sort of king among boozing metal kings. His time with the group didn't even last through the release of their debut album, 1983's Kill 'Em All, but he did manage to contribute pieces of four tracks, including fan favorite "The Four Horsemen."
Mustaine's out-of-control binging got him fired following the band's move to New York to record the album, and he made a vow to form a band more successful than the group that had wronged him. The group he formed, Megadeth, would go on to sell some 20 million records and pen literally dozens of metal classics; no small feat by nearly any definition, but in the shadow of his former employer's 51 million sold, Mustaine still viewed himself a failure.
Slash
Hard rock history loves its guitarist/frontman pairings, be it the bluesman Joe Perry and gypsy Steven Tyler, Wiccan Jimmy Page and mystical Robert Plant, drunken Eddie Van Halen and coked-out David Lee Roth or sober Eddie Van Halen and the crooning Sammy Hagar. As perhaps the last of this type of duo (and the only such twosome any serious rock fan could take seriously in 1987), Guns N' Roses singer Axl Rose and lead guitarist Slash fit the dynamic perfectly.
A highly-talented gunslinger coupled with a volatile, usually shirtless vocalist is about as close to perfect formulaic execution as possible, but what no one knew at the time was that Slash didn't write the songs that made Guns N' Roses famous; those were mostly the work of Rose and rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin. Still, Slash's blues-driven rock boogie solos gave the group so much of their sound (and that top hat gave them so much of their look) that most fans didn't bother to read the liner notes too closely.
As Rose systematically dismantled the original group between 1991 and 1996, Slash's iconic appearance and his generally misunderstood role in one of the biggest bands in the land gave him a strange brand of freedom, as did his accepted position outside the then-laughed-at hair metal school of gunslinging. He took on a few guest appearances through the 90s, most notably as heir apparent to Eddie Van Halen as Michael Jackson's lead guitar player of choice (see 1991's "Black or White" and "Give In to Me").
His own boozy, blues-rock outfit, Slash's Snakepit released a pair of albums as well, but those walked a strange line between widely acknowledged (because they were Slash projects) and generally ignored (because they were not all that great). As more time passed between Guns N' Roses albums, the Slash legend grew, first into the fully-formed Velvet Revolver supergroup with fellow Gn'R alums, then into his time as the face of the insanely popular Guitar Hero video game series.
His proper solo debut is allegedly in the can and set to take the Santana approach of a having a notable guest pal help out with each track, but in 2008 Slash and Rose were reunited - sort of. Rose, liking the film, granted license for the song "Sweet Child O' Mine" (featuring easily Slash's most famous guitar work) to be used in the film The Wrestler, while Slash worked with Clint Mansell to write and perform the guitar parts on the ambient, avant-garde score using almost none of the guitar tricks with which he'd made himself famous. Slash was still without a full-time gig, but a solid reputation in the industry and impeccable, just-vaired-enough portfolio had ensured freelance work would remain at his disposal in perpetuity.
