Brilliant, Lost, Damaged: Flipping the Narrative of the Liam Payne Tragedy
Almost 9 months after the untimely death of Liam Payne in Argentina, the calls for systematic change in the music industry have gone quiet. Nine months after Liam Payne’s untimely death in Argentina, the music industry’s calls for systemic change have faded into silence. It’s a familiar pattern: outrage flares, but inertia wins. Without a significant force to disrupt the status quo, the industry continues to move in the same direction—leaving artists vulnerable to the same toxic pressures.
The loudest narrative that has emerged since Liam’s death is encapsulated in the Rolling Stone article published in February 2025. It’s the shift from the systematic failings of the music industry to the individual failings of a young man. It’s a classic PR deflection. Even just the title demonstrates this positioning: Brilliant, Lost, Damaged: The Tragedy of Liam Payne. It’s a narrative that says: “He was talented, no doubt, but the architect of his own downfall. So sad.”
This narrative isn’t just frustrating—it’s infuriating. It absolves the industry of accountability while perpetuating the myth that artists are solely responsible for their own struggles. As someone who loves pop music, especially UK boy bands, I can’t help but feel a personal connection to this issue. It’s not just about Liam—it’s about every artist who’s been failed by a system that prioritizes profit over people.
When I was a teenager, I discovered Wham! George Michael has been I my favourite ever since. A gorgeous voice, gifted lyricist, and brilliant cultural observer but what I admired most about him was his courage, bravery and integrity.
George suffered from depression, addiction and died young at age 53. I’m 53 right now.
Liam was 31.
There’s been no shortage of research into why musicians die young. This excerpt comes from a study published in 2014, a full 10 years before Liam’s death, at the height of One Direction fame.
The pop music scene is toxic and needs rehabilitation
“The results of this study are disturbing. Across the seven decades studied, popular musicians’ lifespans were up to 25 years shorter than the comparable US population. Accidental death rates were between five and 10 times greater. Suicide rates were between two and seven times greater; and homicide rates were up to eight times greater than the US population….
The music industry needs to consider these findings to discover ways of recognising and assisting young musicians in distress. At the very least, those who make their livings from these young people need to learn to recognise early signs of emotional distress, crisis, depression and suicidality and to put some support systems in place to provide the necessary assistance and care.”
Stairway to hell: life and death in the pop music industry
10 years. And nothing has changed.
Why?
I’m deaf in one ear, so I’m intentional about the music I listen to. I rarely go to concerts, limit headphone use, and stick to what I love—there’s far more music I dislike than enjoy. Honestly, I’m a bad fan financially: I don’t buy physical albums or merch anymore (Gen X problems—I’ve already repurchased my music on 8-tracks, vinyl, cassettes, and CDs). Streaming is simpler. But I do follow pop culture, the stories, and the patterns.
Music I like reduces my stress, music I dislike amplifies it. I curate ruthlessly. My house is a Drake-free zone—Hotline Bling stresses me out. But I love Wham!, George Michael, Bryan Adams, The Eagles, Pink, Alanis Morissette, and storytellers like Richard Marx (Hazard has been a favorite for 30 years). I prefer songwriters who sing their own lyrics over performers of inane, repetitive songs. Covers? Rarely my thing—though One Direction’s Teenage Dirtbag is iconic. The Chicks version of Landslide? Yes, please. Shows like The Voice? Nah. I won’t be watching Liam’s final project Building the Band. Let’s discuss new artist discovery in depth later in this essay. It’s important.
Music has always surrounded me. My parents raised me on ABBA, Sinatra, and John Denver. My husband loves everything from hard rock to The Beach Boys (his stress artist? Mariah Carey). He constantly has music playing. My youngest is into The Smiths and Kate Bush but detests INXS and The Eagles (sacrilege!). My oldest? A mix of ‘80s pop and indie, with a soft spot for Billy Joel and George Michael (yay!).
For years, I didn’t listen enough to even get a Spotify Wrapped report. This year, I’ll qualify—with One Direction, George Michael, and probably Blue Rodeo (I even got a quote into their documentary, thanks to Erica Ehm—peak Canadiana).
So why do I want you to know this about me?
The kind of fan you are matters because it shapes how the industry values music—and, by extension, how it treats its artists. If we want to see change, we need to demand it—not just from the industry, but from ourselves. That means supporting artists in ways that prioritize their well-being, calling out harmful narratives, and refusing to let the system off the hook. Because if nothing changes, we’ll keep losing brilliant, talented people like Liam Payne. And that’s a tragedy we can’t continue to repeat. Also, music often is ahead of industry. Musicians are really freelancers and gig workers in a global industry who often work from anywhere. Their office is on the road – the stadium, the recording studio. We are starting to see this more in corporate work, especially in knowledge industries. What can we learn from music to protect workers in other industries?
On October 16, 2024, I was watching TV and happened to casually scroll on my phone during a boring scene. I knew immediately the images I saw were of Liam Payne (I recognized his clock/gear tattoos) and that his injuries were catastrophic. I turned my phone off because I knew the world of his loved ones was about to explode in the news and on social media. I knew the media coverage would be heart wrenching and intense. When George Michael died on Christmas in 2016, it was my 8-year-old who told me while I was doing dishes. I cried. I didn’t listen to George’s music for 4 years.
Although I felt grief for Liam given the circumstances of his death, I was a casual fan. I’ve noticed that the arc of Liam’s career maps directly onto the most stressful points of my life and career. I often crave silence when I’m stressed, not music. Liam and One Direction didn’t get my attention because I was distracted. The month Zayn left the band, my father-in-law died. The month 1D went on hiatus, my mother was diagnosed with dementia and my daughter was hospitalized. The month my mom died was the same month Liam released Strip That Down. I remember listening in the car, captivated. I loved his voice and I though that choice of song was smart. After he died, I decided that my grief must mean that there were patterns related to George Michael that I had picked up on subliminally. I committed myself to researching Liam’s life more in depth.
So here I want to stop briefly and talk about my rules of engagement for this essay:
Liam Payne’s family has spoken about the profound harm caused by media coverage since his passing. Out of respect for them and for Liam’s memory, I will not engage in speculation about his health, personal relationships, or the circumstances surrounding his death. Instead, this essay aims to examine the systemic issues within the music industry that shaped Liam Payne’s experience. I will rely solely on his public statements to guide this discussion, avoiding interpretations or conjecture.
My intention is to foster meaningful dialogue, not to fuel viral debates or perpetuate negativity. For this reason, I will share this essay on platforms like my website, my podcast, LinkedIn, Medium, Pinterest, and Substack—spaces that encourage thoughtful, forward-looking conversations. The goal is to connect with individuals and organizations committed to actionable change in the music industry and the broader future of work.
Liam Payne’s legacy is defined by his work and achievements, which are well-documented and speak for themselves. While he faced personal challenges, it’s important to focus on the broader lessons his story offers about the pressures of fame and the need for systemic reform. This essay is not a space for unfounded claims or debates about his character. Instead, it’s a call to action: to reflect on how we can create a healthier, more supportive environment for artists and professionals alike.
I encourage anyone who shares this vision to contribute ideas, share resources, or collaborate on solutions that will create a healthier, more sustainable music industry.
I decided to start listening to the music from the beginning and I stayed away from news, social media. I wanted to unlearn what I thought I knew about Liam Payne and One Direction and just focus on their music. I started at the beginning, and it’s taken me 8 months to sort out how to tell the story I see.
At its heart, the 1D story is about identity, coping and career pivots in a toxic workplace. All 5 members of One Direction have had unique experiences despite belonging to the same band and having the same start at the same time. The music industry is comprised of independent contractors and gig workers and the story is incredibly relevant to the future of work and a few trends I’ve been tracking. We are seeing more freelancers as corporate lays off permanent staff and begins to adopt AI. So the need for visibility and personal brand to promote your products and services, the loneliness and isolation leading to mental health challenges and disrupted personal relationships? Not just for celebrities.
One Direction didn’t win X Factor. I didn’t remember that, but it fits exactly with my perception of talent shows. My favourites were always the people who didn’t win, excepting Kelly Clarkson. Adam Lambert, Chris Daughtry are my favourites. I liked Hedley before Jacob Hoggard was jailed for sexual assault. I stopped watching talent shows when Adam Levine left The Voice in 2019. To me, it seemed like the shows were more about mining personal tragedies rather than musical talent. Somewhere along the line, the mission of the talent show became good TV rather than the discovery of the next big music star. The person with the best sob story won – the focus shifting to big paydays for the well-established coaches. Some fun collaborations have come out of those shows – I love the mashup of Freedom 90 and The Cups song featuring The Voice contestants and the cast of Pitch Perfect. I couldn’t tell you a single name of any of the contestants who perform that song. Moves Like Jagger is amazing – Maroon 5 and Christina Aguilera. It’s the existing artists who benefit most from talent shows. George Michael refused to sign with Simon Cowell as a judge because he couldn’t bear the idea of dashing the dreams of hopefuls. He guested a couple of times but refused to judge. In George, I trust.
At this point, I should probably disclose a bias I have. I’m not a fan of child entertainers. Actors or musicians. When my daughter was tiny, she had beautiful blonde curly hair. People were constantly telling me I should put her into modelling or acting. It was incessant pressure. My instinct was always no. The focus was always on the money and the fame and never on her well being and I was concerned about the potential for exploitation. My daughter was a very active kid, my little Tigger. Always bouncing everywhere, loud and laughing. – I couldn’t imagine forcing her to wait for 12 hours at a time, facing rejection, constantly containing and restricting her movement and energy. It’s not the kind of childhood I wanted for her. When I was at university, one of the guys in my residence had a kid brother who had been the star of a Canadian TV show when he was 6. You’d know the name if I told you. Nothing like walking into the kitchen with bedhead, in sweats, meeting a real life TV star. Nice kid but it was always kind of weird because he looked like he did when he was a kid but just bigger. He was used to the reaction but you could tell it bothered him. Who wants their life to peak at age 6? He wanted nothing to do with entertainment. He was glad of the money but that’s about it. Our former neighbours put their twins in commercials and had a good experience but I’m still glad I said no.
When the kids are teenagers like Harry, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Louis were, it’s harder to say no. They see the dream so clearly but don’t perceive the risks. Louis was legally an adult. They have autonomy and agency that small kids don’t have. As a parent, if you say no to opportunity, you are the one shutting the door. They’ll resent you. If you say yes and they fail, it’s a learning experience. No one prepares you for when you say yes and they succeed.
“None of us wanted him to fail, but we never dreamed things would go the way they did. That call never came. He has just kept on winning and winning — maybe not The X Factor, but there’s no denying he’s golden. My baby brother never came home again. He grew up, and all of our memories became his origin story.” – Gemma Styles
There’s a type of grief you have to deal with when your professional and personal identities shift. Your daily reality changes – when and where you wake up, who you are with, who you can trust, what you do. When you work in the public spotlight, it’s so easy to focus on the glitz of the job. It’s so rare to succeed at that level that any complaint is misinterpreted as ingratitude. That leads to silence and silence enables toxic systems to thrive.
Listening to the music and watching the early One Direction performances, I’m amazed at Liam Payne’s leadership. In the beginning, he almost always sang the first verse, he was the first on stage and the first to harmonize. He’s the type of singer who can sing almost anything, but he had a generosity and an instinct to know how to lead but also support and let others shine. His range was incredible. I often wake up dreaming about his voice. Liam was the glue in the One Direction harmony because he could sing all of the parts as needed. He was the foundational layer producers built around. When Zayn left, he absorbed most of the work. The one and only concert One Direction cancelled was because Liam was sick. Zayn has a natural talent and I’m in awe of his voice and his agility but it’s still Liam’s voice that enthralls me.
You can see how easily comparison enters the conversation.
“Yeah, One Direction is an amazing band, but you have five guys that are amazing singers and great soloists. So when they come out and do songs, it’s like, you fight over ‘Where’s this going to be?’ We kind of knew we sucked at singing certain things. We fell into our spots and we knew our place. I knew I’d be the high stuff. [Justin and JC Chasez] would do the leads, Joey [Fatone] in the middle and Lance [Bass] would be on the base. It was a lot easier since we started with a sound, rather than five amazing vocalists. I mean, not to say we’re not, but I just did.” – Chris Kirkpatrick, NSYNC
Zayn Malik performed Night Changes in Mexico in March 2025, the first time he’s sung it in concert in 10 years. He was note perfect. Someone created a TikTok mix that shows Liam and Zayn signing that same song. The symmetry is incredible. Across time and space and beyond the grave, their musical ability connects them. It’s impossible not to grieve it.
In my opinion, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan are the singers who improved the most during their One Direction tenure. Liam and Zayn were naturally gifted; the other three developed the skills. They worked hard, constantly training and practicing, performing more than 1400 live concerts. I enjoy all their voices and different approaches. The comparison trap was lethal for the band.
A professor I know of gave a TED talk about chickens. In a science experiment, researchers allowed 7 generations of chickens to thrive with food, water, support and encouragement. No interference – just chickens doing what chickens do best. The result? A full- feathered, thriving flock, laying well. The other flock? Optimized for output. Not laying as much as the other? Penalized. The result? They pecked each other to death competing for results. The takeaway is that competition doesn’t bring out the best in anyone.
Margaret Heffernan: Forget the pecking order at work | TED Talk
The average band lasts around 5-6 years.
It’s such a reliable metric you could almost set a timer for it. One Direction is almost a mirror of Take That. Liam was Gary Barlow but wanted to be Robbie Williams. Zayn left first, just like Robbie. The Daddy Direction moniker haunted Liam, I think. He rebelled. What 17-year-old (rockstar or not) wants to be a father figure, the enforcer of good behaviour? That’s not cool. The other thing Zayn and Liam have in common with Robbie Williams? Neurodivergence. Zayn was diagnosed with ADHD when he was a child, Liam was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult, well after stardom.
“Exclusion does not need a reason—just an excuse.” – Ludmila Praslova
I interviewed Ludmila Praslova about her book The Canary Code for my podcast. She’s an expert in organizational design and her research demonstrates how neurodivergent workers often feel the effects of toxic workplaces well before neurotypical employees do. After doing a deep dive into her research, it’s no surprise that Zayn and Liam were the two members of One Direction who experienced bullying and othering. Addiction is a real risk for people with ADHD. Zayn and Liam were the 1D canaries.
“If you are following the story closely you can’t help but notice a pattern emerge. Boys join a boy band. The band becomes huge. Boys get sick. Some are fortunate through a series of self-examinations and help to overcome their experience. Some never quite manage to untangle the mess of the wreckage of the past.” – Robbie Williams
Robbie’s words cut to the heart of the issue: the music industry’s toxic cycle of exploitation and neglect. It’s a story we’ve seen play out time and again—brilliant young artists thrust into the spotlight, only to be chewed up by a system that prioritizes profit over people. But this isn’t just about individual tragedies, it’s about a deeply entrenched culture that enables them. And let’s be clear – 31 is so young. Ageism is a big part of the systematic problem.
So how did we get here? How did an industry built on creativity and connection become a machine that leaves its brightest stars so vulnerable? In Part 2, we’ll pull back the curtain on the systemic failings that shaped Liam Payne’s experience—and continue to endanger countless others.
