Songs: “Hey Brother” by Avicii, “Brooklyn Girls” by Charles Hamilton,“Little Secrets” by Passion Pit
The list of prominent musicians who have struggled with mental illness is relatively well-known. Kurt Cobain and Layne Staley, respectively of Nirvana and Alice In Chains, had crippling depression. Brian Wilson of Beach Boys fame had schizoaffective and bipolar disorders and Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett had full-blown schizophrenia. Many other talented artists have self-medicated, often fatally, with drugs or alcohol: Lil Peep, Mac Miller, JuiceWRLD. Mental illness doesn’t care how famous or brilliant you are; its cruelty can strike anyone at any time.
Nowhere is this more apparent than the case of internationally known Swedish DJ Tim Bergling (aka Avicii), credited as a wunderkind who blew the doors off EDM and broke the genre into the mainstream. His smash hit “Levels,” released in his early 20s, was followed by the even more popular “Wake Me Up”; even then-president Barack Obama casually name-dropped him during an international summit. Bergling performed up to 300 shows a year on a grueling tour schedule, jetting all over the world, on what a Billboard article described as a “comet-streak of a career.” He appeared to have it all: the talent, the prestige, the private plane, the glitz of playing sold-out shows in Ibiza’s hottest beachfront clubs.
But offstage Avicii suffered from devastating anxiety and depression. A painfully shy introvert by nature, Bergling increasingly used alcohol and a dangerous cocktail of pills- among them opiates, sedatives, and antidepressants- to cope with the stress of fame. By 22 he was hospitalized with pancreatitis and a few years later had his stomach pumped after overdosing on muscle relaxants and panic disorder medication. Despite retirement from touring a few years later, his behavior grew increasingly erratic. He took his own life while on vacation in Oman at only 28 years old. A posthumous documentary shows an exhausted Bergling, pressed by money-hungry managers and studio executives, struggling to turn down composing and performing under immense pressure; a musician described by his family as an “over-achieving perfectionist” who “wanted to find peace.”
A 2013 Scientific American article refuted the claim that mental illness is necessary for creativity, but I’d modify that statement somewhat; Bergling’s struggle gifted him with the empathy necessary to connect with a worldwide audience of all ages and backgrounds (including presidents.) He wrote his raw and honest songs in moments of quiet contemplation, often composing them first not on synthesizers but on piano or guitar. While much EDM is designed for rolling on Molly under strobe lights, “Hey Brother”- featuring noted bluegrass artist Dan Tyminski- is a hauntingly gorgeous reflection of war’s impact on young families. Bergling was uniquely able to put himself in others’ shoes and pair that with stunning melodies and immaculate production, leaving behind a catalog of singles that knocked fans and critics speechless.
Another musician suffering from mental illness is Charles Hamilton, arguably 2008’s hottest rapper, whose bipolar disorder flared up shortly after signing a multimillion-dollar deal with Interscope. Hamilton, deep in the throes of a manic episode, crashed an acquaintance’s car without a license and punched a law enforcement officer before checking himself into a psychiatric hospital. The next few years were a tailspin of incarceration and homelessness as Hamilton became addicted to heroin, wrote erratic social media posts, and was ultimately dropped by his label. But his prodigious talent allowed him to cling white-knuckled onto his career and he was later picked up by NYC-based Republic Records. According to a senior executive at Republic, who referenced the uncontrolled substance abuse and mental health struggles of other artists, “At least with Charles we know what it is.”
“I wanted to commit career suicide, physical suicide, spiritual suicide. I didn’t care anymore. I was depressed, paranoid and confused.” -Charles Hamilton
An early mixtape featuring the cocky, jubilant “Brooklyn Girls” showcases Hamilton’s knack for channeling manic energy into sparkling, shimmering hip-hop gold. As a rapper, he effortlessly blends multisyllabic rhymes, long freestyles, and complex rhythms into what he calls “time mathematics- to be able to know how many words you can fit at a certain speed before your time is up.” Even more notable than his brilliantly smooth flow is his ability as a storyteller; “Brooklyn Girls” cycles through a series of different women whose personalities are encompassed in brief, pithy descriptions. It would take lesser artists three minutes to tell listeners what Hamilton is able to portray in seconds. His neurodiversity provides him with greater insight as a creator, but at the same time it hobbles his mental wellbeing and work-life balance.
And then there’s Passion Pit, critical darlings of the indie-pop universe. The Boston-based band released their 2009 debut album Manners to high praise for its bouncy singles pairing colorful synths with frontman Michael Angelakos’s helium-high voice. Angelakos is a prodigy who worked with Usher and Nelly Furtado by his 25th birthday and had his songs featured in the Twilight series; he’s also been incredibly candid about his bipolar disorder, starring in a public service announcement for a mental health nonprofit and discussing his struggles with major news outlets. A 2011 bout of severe depression, followed by two months of psychotic mania, led Angelakos to drink over a liter of gin a day and attempt to jump out of an apartment window.
Proving that even the sunniest of tunes can belie shifting instability, the sunny cupcake-frosted confection “Little Secrets” is almost childishly happy and innocent. It makes me think of sipping apple juice and nibbling on crayons in pre-K before the weight of the world began to wash in like an insidious tide. It’s so sweet and joyous that it’s almost. . . manic. (It’s also a blast of good clean fun.) You could make the case that Angelakos drew on his own mood disorder for inspiration, hearkening wistfully back to a childhood before the onset of mental illness while simultaneously showing the effects of too much serotonin flooding the brain. The lyrics are fairly straightforward, but the real showstopper here is the cheerful saccharine melody, plaintive beat, and Angelakos’s standout vocals that craft an upbeat yet unsettlingly sweet pop masterpiece.
“Creativity essentially leads to suicide- where you think to cut yourself up, sit in the bathtub, and take more medication than you should.” -Michael Angelakos
I’m a business writer by trade and in the corporate world, when we return to a concept, we use the term “circle back.” As in, let’s “circle back” to that ten-year-old Scientific American article claiming that mental illness isn’t necessary for the creative process. It may not be, and I’m sure there are plenty of excellent artists who haven’t been haunted by that looming spectre, but depression, anxiety, and its ilk do foster a greater sense of understanding than allows them to hit audiences straight in the feels. Because these musicians have been there emotionally. Maybe not exactly as they describe: Avicii never lost a father to armed conflict, Charles Hamilton probably didn’t bang all the chicks he said he did, and perhaps Michael Angelakos was never that merry toddler devoid of worry. But their mental health struggles gave them the empathy to side with others in rough patches of different situations. In the end, maybe that’s the silver lining.
Hey hey! Thanks for visiting- your presence is warmly welcomed. Please correct me if I accidentally got something wrong. If there are any songs, artists, or genres you’d love to learn more about, I’m always down for recommendations! This blog is free to read (and always will be) due to a fair amount of academic traffic, but you can always buy me a coffee (aka put a tip in my jar) if you enjoyed this article.
