Vol. 12: The Industry Wasn't Built for Human Beings
For as long as popular music has existed, there has been a strange relationship between artistry and suffering.
Some of the greatest musicians of all time also seemed to carry the heaviest emotional weight.
Depression. Addiction. Isolation. Anxiety. Burnout. Public breakdowns. Self-destruction.
The stories are so common now that people almost expect them from artists.
At some point, society stopped seeing it as unusual and started seeing it as part of the mythology.
The tortured genius.
The addict.
The unstable rock star.
The brilliant but troubled artist.
For decades, the music industry almost romanticized the idea that great art had to come from pain.
And maybe part of the reason that narrative survived for so long is because there’s at least some truth buried inside it.
The same emotional sensitivity that helps artists create meaningful music may also make them more vulnerable to the pressures that come with public life.
Human beings were never designed to be perceived by millions of people at once.
Artists spend their lives turning private emotions into public entertainment. They write about heartbreak, insecurity, trauma, loneliness, addiction, anxiety, relationships, family problems, and depression, then hand those emotions over to strangers to be consumed, criticized, celebrated, memed, dissected, and sometimes weaponized against them.
That kind of existence has to change a person.
Writing as an Outlet
As somebody who has written lyrics since I was around 12 years old, I’ve often thought about how closely creativity and emotional processing can become connected.
For me, writing was never only about making songs. In many ways, it functioned more like journaling.
Over the years, I filled notebooks with lyrics and scattered thoughts from different periods of my life. Looking back at some of them could honestly feel shocking. Sometimes I’d read old pages and think:
I can’t believe I was carrying that around in my head at the time.
I eventually threw all of those notebooks away.
Part of it was embarrassment. Part of it was the uncomfortable feeling of imagining somebody else reading thoughts that were never really meant for anyone but me.
These days, everything lives digitally in my phone instead.
But the reason I wrote in the first place never really changed.
It was an outlet.
And I think that’s true for a lot of artists. Music often becomes a place where people process emotions they may not fully understand themselves yet. The difference is that once those emotions become public, the world starts interacting with them too.
That’s a very different experience than simply writing something privately in a notebook.
Are Artists Already More Vulnerable?
Before fame even enters the equation, many artists may already be more emotionally vulnerable than the average person to begin with.
Creative people often experience emotion differently. Many musicians speak openly about feeling isolated growing up, struggling with anxiety or depression, dealing with childhood trauma, feeling misunderstood, or becoming obsessed with creative perfection.
Some spend years searching for validation before ever finding success.
In some ways, the industry may naturally attract emotionally intense people because emotionally intense people are often the ones driven to create art in the first place.
That doesn’t mean every musician struggles with mental illness, of course.
But it does raise an uncomfortable question:
Does fame create mental health problems, or does the industry attract people who were already vulnerable before they became famous?
Probably both.
The Job Itself Is Not Normal
Once fame arrives, the pressure only multiplies.
For older generations of artists, the pressure looked different. There was always stress tied to touring, substance abuse, label expectations, financial pressure, and public attention, but there were still moments where artists could disappear between albums and reclaim some version of a normal life.
Today, that almost feels impossible.
Modern artists are expected to remain visible constantly. Albums are no longer enough. Musicians are now expected to be content creators, influencers, marketers, personalities, and online brands at all times.
Fans want constant access. Algorithms reward constant visibility. Silence can feel dangerous in a culture that moves this quickly.
Older artists disappeared for three years and returned with a new album. Now, some artists feel pressure to post every day just to stay culturally relevant.
Social Media Changed Everything
Social media changed the relationship between artists and audiences forever.
For fans, that access can feel exciting and personal.
For artists, it can become psychologically exhausting.
People online often talk about celebrities as if they aren’t human beings at all. Entire hate campaigns form around public figures daily. Every mistake becomes permanent. Every rumor becomes content. Every awkward moment becomes a meme.
And unlike previous eras, artists now read everything in real time.
Imagine waking up every morning and seeing millions of strangers debating your talent, appearance, relationships, personal life, intelligence, or morality before you’ve even had breakfast.
That level of public scrutiny would affect almost anyone.
Over the last couple years, Drake has been called everything imaginable online and even on national television. Whether people love him, hate him, or simply feel exhausted by the discourse surrounding him, it says something about modern culture that public pile-ons have become normalized entertainment.
The internet often forgets that artists are still people navigating life in real time.
And social media doesn’t only impact massive superstars.
Young artists now enter the industry fully aware that public humiliation can happen instantly and globally. One poorly worded post, one awkward performance clip, one controversy, or one wave of internet backlash can completely reshape how millions of people view them overnight.
That kind of pressure simply did not exist decades ago in the same way.
Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll
Previous generations often treated mental health struggles as weakness, especially within music culture.
The phrase “sex, drugs, and rock & roll” became so normalized that self-destruction almost felt built into the image of being an artist. Addiction was romanticized. Burnout was ignored. Chaotic behavior was marketed.
Labels and the wider industry sometimes profited from the instability as long as the records kept selling and the shows kept moving.
That mythology left a long shadow.
For years, the public seemed more comfortable turning artist pain into legend than asking whether the person behind the music was okay.
I remember seeing a different version of backstage life firsthand back in 2002 while working as a music publicist at the Barenaked Circus festival at the Molson Amphitheatre, back when it was still called that.
My friend’s band, Boyce's Road, was opening for Barenaked Ladies, and I remember walking backstage expecting some version of the stereotypical “rock star” atmosphere I had grown up hearing about.
Instead, it was surprisingly normal.
Bands were sitting around with their families, eating catered food, talking quietly, and relaxing before going on stage. The entire atmosphere felt calm and human. Almost the complete opposite of the old “sex, drugs, and rock & roll” imagery that had defined so much of music culture for decades.
That memory stayed with me because it reminded me how often the public creates exaggerated versions of artists in their heads. Sometimes we forget that behind the mythology are just regular people trying to navigate an extremely unusual profession.
Has Anything Changed?
At the same time, some things have improved.
Artists now speak openly about therapy, anxiety, depression, exhaustion, addiction, and burnout in ways previous generations rarely did publicly. Some postpone tours for mental health reasons. Others set boundaries with fans or step away from social media entirely.
Lola Young recently cancelled upcoming shows after a health scare and said she needed time away to focus on herself. The language around that kind of decision has changed. Years ago, artists often disappeared quietly, and fans were left guessing. Now, there is at least more honesty surrounding these conversations.
Some labels, managers, and touring organizations have also started taking artist wellness more seriously. Mental health support, therapists on tour, burnout prevention, sober touring environments, and wellness programs have become more common than they once were.
Insurance and financial protections around touring have evolved as well because cancellations tied to health, exhaustion, or emotional distress can carry enormous financial consequences for everyone involved.
Still, it’s hard not to wonder whether the system itself remains fundamentally unhealthy.
The conversation improved faster than the machine itself.
The modern music business still depends heavily on emotional exposure, constant relevance, public attention, and online engagement. The machine may speak more openly about mental health now, but it still rewards artists for remaining endlessly visible and emotionally accessible.
The Contradiction
Maybe that’s the contradiction at the center of all of this.
The very qualities that allow artists to create music that deeply moves people may also make them more vulnerable to the pressures that come with fame.
Sensitivity creates connection.
Connection creates attention.
Attention creates pressure.
And pressure changes people.
The strange thing is, listeners often turn to music during some of the hardest moments of their own lives. Music helps people feel understood. Albums become emotional support systems. Songs help people survive grief, heartbreak, loneliness, addiction, anxiety, and depression.
But sometimes we forget that the people creating those records may be struggling too.
Maybe more than we realize.
Accompanying Playlist
I put together an accompanying Spotify playlist for this week’s piece, featuring songs that sit somewhere inside this conversation about pressure, vulnerability, survival, escape, and emotional release.
Question: When you listen to an artist write openly about pain, pressure, or struggle, do you think about what it may have cost them to put that into the world?