The "tortured artist" stereotype has been around for centuries, and it keeps getting stronger thanks to the media focus, sometimes promoting artists' struggles more than their work. That’s how we learn that Vincent van Gogh was so weird and ended up cutting a piece of his ear because he was battling depression, anxiety, and possibly bipolar disorder. Edvard Munch, known for quite concerning "The Scream," dealt with anxiety and hallucinations.
Classical music's hall of fame might as well be a who is who of Encyclopedia of Psychiatry: Beethoven's bipolar disorder, Schumann's hallucinations, Tchaikovsky's depression.
Today’s music industry plays along. One widely cited study from 2019 found that 73% of independent musicians reported mental health symptoms. Research from 2023 shows a 357% increase in musicians seeking help for mental health issues since 2019.
Fast forward to 2024, and mental health confessions have replaced sex scandals as the go-to celebrity headline. Every week brings another artist's "brave revelation" about their struggles. From Ed Sheeran to Janet Jackson, sharing mental health battles has become even more common than promoting new music.
And while I am not a very avid user of Instagram, it seems like every time I scroll my feed, every tenth post is yet another celebrity struggling with mental health issues: from Lili Reinhart (Betty from Riverdale) giving a speech about her problems in a White House or Britney Spears doing her crazy dances.
But is this surge a result of genuine predisposition to mental illness, or has the industry's obsession with "authentic suffering" created a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Labels execs appear all to love good stories about troubled geniuses who turn their pain into platinum records. But this romanticized image of the "tortured artist" seemingly, more often than not, is becoming a marketing strategy.
Manufacturing tortured genius
The music industry somehow managed to turn mental health struggles (and its deadly consequences) into a profitable business model.
Posthumous albums and tribute shows often turn into abundant revenue streams.
For instance, Swedish DJ Tim Bergling, also known as Avicii. His first posthumous single—SOS— was finished very shortly after musician death and released nearly one year later, shot to the top of the charts shortly after its release. It was the first single from the upcoming posthumous album, called “Tim.” And even though proceeds from the album went to the Tim Bergling Foundation for mental health awareness, it's hard to ignore how the industry capitalizes on tragedy.
Sales spikes after an artist's death aren't rare. Prince's album sales soared by over 40,000 percent in the week following his passing. Michael Jackson's estate has generated around $2.5 billion since his death, thanks to projects like "Michael Jackson’s THIS IS IT" and "MJ The Musical." The Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour pulled in $371 million, selling 3.7 million tickets in 27 countries.
But the commercialization of struggle isn't limited to posthumous releases. Celebrities like Britney Spears have had their problems turned into tabloid laughing stock, bringing clicks and boosting media reach. Social media adds another layer, often glorifying mental illness among younger generations, as highlighted in a recent study.
And the fact that the comedians are making jokes about today's youth's infatuation with depression because it’s “so cool” speaks volume.
Record labels and media outlets know that the image of the tortured artist sells. Dr. Bryan Bruno, Medical Director at Mid City TMS, who’s also an Assistant Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at the New York University School of Medicine, explains, "If their brand or image can affect their bottom line and is linked to this trope of 'good music comes from suffering,' it can make them feel trapped in a never-ending cycle of burnout that can cause depression and anxiety. While there are support systems available through outpatient therapy, seeking support is often the first and hardest step."
The dark reality behind the myth
There's a difference between using art to process pain and needing pain to create art.
Si Martin, drummer for Novo Amor and co-founder of Heads Above the Waves, a non-profit that raises awareness of depression and self-harm in young people, puts it clearly: "Sometimes struggling is absolutely an inspiration. But when I'm in a difficult period, it takes all my effort on just getting through the basics of the day which leaves very little space to actually be creative, and create something out of nothing."
The pressure to maintain this image of the struggling artist creates its own trap. Martin explains: "The challenge comes when someone becomes known for their expression of struggling with something... This can lead to some people creating the music they think their fans want, rather than what's truly an authentic expression of themselves."
Let's take a closer look at what the music industry doesn't put on promotional posters: the real cost of mental illness in music. And the fact that feeling bad takes aways musicians’ ability to function properly (and we are not even talking about some super-enhanced creativity here).
Amy Winehouse's bipolar disorder played out in HD for public entertainment. One day manic and joyous, the next depressed and broken. Her last concert in Belgrade was a 45-minute trainwreck—forgetting lyrics and even which city she was in. The crowd booed her to tears, but the industry kept filming for the lulz.
These aren't isolated incidents. The Who's Keith Moon passed out mid-performance after taking what might have been elephant tranquilizers. He had to be dragged offstage. Jim Morrison collapsed during a 1968 Amsterdam show, leaving The Doors to perform without their iconic frontman. Chester Bennington's story started with trauma at age seven. By eleven, he was using cocaine and meth. The Linkin Park singer spent his career turning pain into platinum records, until he couldn't anymore.
The truth is, mental illness doesn't make you creative — it makes you ill. The industry might sell trauma as talent, but real artists know better. They're successful not because of their struggles, but despite them.
Breaking free from the “tortured” image
Time to bust the biggest myth in music: you don't need to be miserable to make great art. In fact, science suggests the opposite.
Academic world is revising its stance. Recent research suggests creativity isn't tied to mental illness but can actually be a flexible strategy for better mental health.
One study comparing writers, musicians, and non-creative individuals found no significant difference in mental illness prevalence among the groups. In other words, being creative doesn't mean you're more likely to struggle mentally.
In fact, creativity can boost happiness. Another study involving over 500 participants showed that higher self-reported creativity is positively associated with subjective well-being, even after accounting for stress levels.
Need more proof? Research involving 31,950 UK employees shows mental health is one of the main contributing factors for productivity. And music, stripped of its glam and glitter, is work — creative work, but work that requires to be productive nonetheless.
Thankfully, it seems like the music industry is starting to recognize this. Si Martin, shared some positive changes: "There’s a couple of cool schemes that have come about. Help Musicians and Music Minds Matter. I’ve even heard of folks who’ve done touring as a band or crew, 'retiring' from going on tour to perform, but joining tours—or even just hopping in and out—to be counselors on the road."
But Si also points out a challenge: "I think the biggest challenge for all of the support options out there is just encouraging people to take them seriously. This needs to come from all angles. From venues, to management, to bands and crew. And in fact, treat mental wellbeing as an ongoing thing to be working on, rather than something to just access when you’re at a crisis point."
The future of artist mental health
In the world where every second new movie is about antichrists and “nice” serial killers, depressed children are portrayed as being cool, and some dead artists earn more than during their times of being alive, it is really hard to imagine the way we can momentarily change the industry practices for good. But the truth is that a healthier and happier person produces more results. Not to mention that they are also staying alive to create more.
Dr. Bryan Bruno believes the industry can shift the narrative. "The music industry can also help by 'teaching' artists that there are those who are extremely successful while taking care of their mental health. There are plenty of successful music artists who create beautiful music that are taking care of their mental health."
Some examples on the top of my head are Elton John and Anthony Kiedis. John has been sober for over 20 years and continues to make new music, perform, and write books. Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers has also turned his life around. Sober for years, he's dedicated to fitness and recently released the album Return of the Dream Canteen in 2022 approaching his 60s. And yes, it's pretty damn good.
Dr. Bruno adds, “I believe ideas are at their most fertile when we’re well, alert, and in a position to truly bring one’s art to life. We should not glorify the struggle as much as we should appreciate creativity and mental health."
Artists themselves can take steps to protect their mental health. Si Martin points out the importance of separating personal identity from public image: "I think this is relevant for any creators, not just those with mental health disorders, but attaching identity and value to you being a musician is a really tricky thing. Especially if you’re someone who actively doesn’t want to be defined by their mental health disorder, so instead you define yourself as an artist. It’s all well and good being able to tell folks you’re a musician. But then if you have a bad show, or you’re having a difficult time, and you can’t create because you need to prioritise your wellbeing, it’s easy to spiral and feel worthless, and a bit lost as to who you actually are."
He suggests a practical solution: "The hack to get around this is to have reminders of who you are, and things about yourself that are worth celebrating outside of just being a musician. I legit have a note on my notes app on my phone that just reminds me of things I like about myself that I can remind myself of if I need it."
Building healthier industry practices involves everyone—from record labels to fans. The future of music needs to be built on talent, not trauma. On skill, not suffering. On creativity that comes from wellness, not wounds. Because at the end of the day, even the most cynical of us would agree: dead artists might sell more records, but living ones make way more music.
