Six years ago, I started my album review of Kanye’s (sorry, Ye’s) Jesus is King with the line “I love Kanye. I love the old Kanye. I love the new Kanye”. Well, who would’ve thought that six years later we would be where we are now with the maverick artist? Unfortunately, Ye is just one of a litany of musicians afflicted, and often unsupported, with mental illness.

‘HH’ marked his, and possibly in all of music history itself, a peak in absurd, diabolical, and of course wildly hurtful sentiment. Ye, after years of half baked, sloppy production, out of nowhere paired his most catchy, cohesive beat with a chant which needs no explanation. 

It is painfully clear that Ye is in a manic episode of Bipolar disorder. The writing was on the wall with his interview with social media personality Justin Laboy in February, where he said his wife Bianca had told him that he is ‘autistic not Bipolar’ and he subsequently stopped his medication. The destruction to his reputation that proceeded is one that even someone who has been seemingly indestructible will not be able to recover from this time.

Musicians with mental illness have been strikingly common since music has been embellished in popular culture. The story of Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys is both sombre, and fascinating, with how the impact of the pervasive psychedelic drug culture of the 60s music industry had on its key players. Wilson was a craftsman of gorgeously intricate pop music, embroiled in a battle for pop supremacy with the Beatles (arguably Pet Sounds is the best record of the era, but that is for another day). He then became a recluse, and what was supposed to be the crowning glory of the Beach Boys, Smile, had to be shelved, and he disappeared from public life for more than a decade. He was later diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder- an illness with a combination of psychotic and mood symptoms, and likely impacted by his drug use. 

In the 90s, Kurt Cobain seemingly had it all- frontman of Nirvana, the inarguable leader in the Grunge rock movement, selling out stadiums, and producing my album of the 90s, Nevermind. But on the 8th of April 1994, he was found dead in his apartment with a suicide note, the final phrase “It’s better to burn out than to fade away”, a haunting line from Neil Young’s classic song. 

In 2017 much loved Linkin Park lead singer Chester Bennington was found dead in his home, leaving behind his wife and 6 children, and fans who adored Linkin Park’s influence in Nu Metal genre, stunned. 

I could go on. But why is it so prevalent? Yes many actors and sport stars also struggle in this element of human existence, but it does seem, even if optically rather than statistically, more of an issue in the music sphere. Music, possibly the most out of any form of artistic expression, is intrinsically emotional. To truly pour out one’s feelings, whether it is hope and joy, or pain and inner darkness into music is what takes your average record into the echelons of music which touches the masses. And in that there’s the catch 22, where without, say the inner pain of Cobain, would we have had the music in the first place? To anyone who hasn’t already, go to YouTube and watch Nirvana’s MTV unplugged, where Cobain displays spellbinding emotion and Nirvana’s music reaches, well, Nirvana. A truly content, serene Cobain likely doesn’t write the songs from Nevermind. Likewise with the passionate delivery of Chester Bennington in Meteora. But we just listen to the music, and assume the stars to be automatically on top of their own worlds as they are with the charts.

We have ‘R U OK day’ where people wear yellow and share Instagram stories to promote mental health awareness. But when a musician is in crisis there is a sense of ‘oh it’s how they are’ apathy sometimes. 

My case in point is Dylan Frost of the Sticky Fingers. Remember them? 10 years ago they were darling of the Australian Indie scene, at the forefront of festivals, with constant radio airplay. Their cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rhiannon, with Dylan’s unique, smooth voice, is for me the best Triple J Like a Version there is. Long story short, there were multiple reports of threatening and abusive behaviour from Frost in particular, allegations of racism during a performance by Indigenous band Dispossessed (which Sticky Fingers claim was a misunderstanding) and culminating in a trainwreck of an interview on Triple J, with an infamous ‘Boys will be boys’ line. What actually went on leading up to Sticky Fingers’ cancellation can be speculated, but what is clear is that Frost was also going through mental illness, coming out with a diagnosis of Bipolar and going on a hiatus from which they have come back, with zero promotion or fanfare. Does mental illness excuse his actions, if he did threaten fellow musician Thelma Plum? Of course not, but hanging the band out to dry with a painfully blunt and accusatory interview to forcefully obtain an apology, and then tossing them aside isn’t the way either. 

A scary, intriguing alternative to this can be found in a poorly rated Black Mirror TV series episode, Ashley Too., with Ashley being pop star played by Miley Cyrus. The premise essentially is Ashley not conforming to the wishes of her management; and hence is drugged, put into a coma, her music is extracted from her brainwaves, and a hologram replaces her. Extreme in 2019, and still obviously implausible now, but with the caveat of AI produced music. Now people are producing scarily believable Weeknd and Drake releases which you wouldn’t be able to tell aren’t made by the artists themselves. There are social media accounts which display AI generated country music and hip hop music which are completely untraceable to any specific singer’s voice or likeness. 

So how does this relate to music and mental health? Well with the tribulations of for instance Kanye, or Brian Wilson’s scrapped album, or Dylan Frost and Sticky Fingers being pulled from festivals, comes the financial cost to record labels and managers. And on the morbid side, the death of Kurt Cobain robbed DGC Records of their golden goose. Simply dealing with AI produced music would solve the unpredictability of a troubled star, and give them guaranteed, constant revenue- if people do consume it of course. Will they? Daft Punk in the 2000s was a phenomenon, and people loved the eclectic, catchy music from the two faceless men. They didn’t need to know who was underneath the costumes to bop to Get Lucky. A catchy pop song will inevitably catch fire, be it from a distinguishable persona or a faceless man operating AI. 

But it won’t be timeless, as I sit down and listen once again to Pet Sounds from 1966, Wilson sounding as fresh in Wouldn’t It be Nice as he had done so 60 years ago. Because for that you need the persona, the tapestry of emotion- which unfortunately often for the musicians themselves, has the underbelly of mental health struggles within.