For music to have a future, young musicians need to learn mental health skills now

I sat down with a friend from the UK recently to talk about how we can bring more mental health awareness in the music industry.

Given that both of us are music teachers, our conversation shifted towards helping young students understand the importance of their mental health.

The thing that has frustrated both of us for a long time is that mental health awareness has actually been around for a while now. But there still isn’t much done about it, particularly in schools around the world, because at that stage, you begin to build the core foundation of your life’s values, beliefs and attitudes.

When I finished high school in 2015, mental-health education meant knowing words like depression, anxiety, burnout, and suicide — and having a vague sense of what might lead someone to struggle.

But that’s where it stopped.

There were almost no conversations about preventing or managing those symptoms.
No mental skills to reach out.
No guidance on how to talk about what you’re going through.
No practical tools for noticing the warning signs in yourself.

Most kids still grow up treating their mental health as an afterthought.

This is still the case with many music students, as most of them focus all their time on practising their technique, chasing every gig they can get their hands on, and trying to get ahead of their peers. There is very little, if any attention on taking care of yourself, resting, managing the pressure that comes with being a professional musician in the spotlight no matter how big or small.

In particular, suicide was still framed as a selfish act — something someone “commits.”

But I can tell you, without a shadow of doubt, that I’ve never met a single person who’s had suicidal thoughts who treated it like a choice, a decision, or a commitment.
Not the way you’d commit to signing a contract or marrying someone.

It’s the last option — the one you reach when your mind has convinced you that nothing else exists.
And even after battling suicidal ideation for two years myself, I can tell you: I never wanted it to be an option at all.

This is why mental-health education must go deeper than definitions and simple terms.
Because the way we speak and act around each other affects how we see people.
And how we see people shapes whether or not they feel safe enough to ask for help.

So when my friend and I looked at music education — both in the UK and Australia — we noticed something worrying.

Music programs still focus almost entirely on performance and skill.
Technique, practice, repertoire, exams, concerts.

In short, the focus is entirely on the art and craft, putting musicianship at the forefront.

And you might say, “Well… isn’t that what music education is supposed to be?”

You’d be right. But there are limitations to this method as it ignores what comes after.

Because the moment a student decides they want to make music their life — whether they dream of touring, becoming a recording artist, or posting songs online — they’re stepping into a world that places enormous pressure on their mental health.

And almost no one prepares them for that.

It doesn’t matter how good you are at your instrument…
How polished your performance is…
How strong your business or marketing skills are…

The pressure of being a professional musician will override all of it.

That’s why so many incredible artists — even Grammy winners and hall of famers — struggle with their personal lives, their self-belief, their mental health, their stability.

For those who don’t reach those heights, they either burn out, quit music altogether, or experience greater levels of anxiety, self criticism and depression.

The struggle begins almost the moment you decide you want to be a musician.
The self-doubt, the constant need to be perfect— it starts quietly in your bedroom.

And now, with social media, young musicians are watching their favourite artists every day, trying to copy what they do, comparing themselves to every clip and reel. When their own music doesn’t get the same attention, they feel inferior. They wonder if they’ll ever be “that good.”

The problem is: there’s almost no conversation about how to manage this.

My friend and I realised why:
Most teachers, mentors, and lecturers came from a world where social media, YouTube, and the internet didn’t exist.

Even the ones who are online often had early success — so they don’t always understand what this pressure feels like at the beginning.

The way that young kids dealt with this was to practise, push through, work harder.

 And if you weren’t having success, or if money was tight, the advice was always:
“Focus on the art.”

But here’s the reality:
Whilst every young musician will develop major depression or anxiety, most will experience symptoms — and if those symptoms aren’t recognised or managed, they can grow into something far more severe.

And some — far too many as far as I’m concerned — will take their lives, overwhelmed by the pressure to keep pushing even when their mind and body can’t.

I think often of Chester Bennington — one of many incredible musicians who have died by suicide over the last three decades.

And I use the phrase died by suicide very intentionally.

Chester was open about his depression and addiction. He wasn’t hiding.
And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

Why?

Was the response not strong enough?
Did society convince him — like so many — that no matter how deep his pain was, it was “just a phase,” something he’d eventually “snap out of”?
Did the people closest to him miss the warning signs because they didn’t know what to look for?

Even though he seemed at peace on the outside, I have no doubt that on his last day he still believed his pain was his burden alone, and that he didn’t want to put it on his family.

I understand that feeling too well.

It took me eight years to accept that my pain wasn’t mine alone to carry.
It took my girlfriend, my parents, my friends — all of them telling me, over and over — that my pain was theirs to share.

This is what I want young musicians to understand. It’s about changing the attitudes around these issues. To tell them that:
You’re allowed to share the burden.
You’re allowed to reach out.
You’re allowed to say “I’m not okay” before the symptoms spiral into something far more dangerous.

So my friend and I started asking a bigger question:
How do we prepare young musicians for the world they’re walking into?

Because as much as we want to, you can’t remove the pressure from social media, not the competition, not the expectations.
But you can learn to manage the pressure you put on yourself.

And the first step is simple but painfully overlooked:

You have to recognise the warning signs.
Burnout, depression, anxiety — none of it is “just stress” or “part of the gig.”
It’s real, it’s serious, and it needs to be understood.

Learning these mental-fitness skills early may not guarantee you’ll never experience depression or anxiety.
But it can reduce the severity, the shock, and the loneliness.
It gives you the ability to reach out sooner. It lets you notice the red flags in yourself before things spiral out of control.

When I look back at my own journey, the warning signs were everywhere:

• Isolating myself from family and friends

• Worrying about the future more than usual

• Not sleeping because of looping negative thoughts

• Dwelling on past mistakes

• Waking up exhausted and drained

• Chest pains, trouble breathing, falling asleep mid-day

• Losing weight from stress

• Two seizures

And even when my body began breaking down — even when suicidal thoughts crept in — I ignored them.
Because I didn’t want to feel “less of a musician.”
I thought taking a day off made me weak. It meant I didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t strong enough.

It took me eight years to accept that these symptoms were real. I’m lucky I eventually had people around me who refused to let me carry the weight alone.

But I think about everyone who doesn’t have that support early on.
And I know — with full honesty — if I’d had these skills sooner, I yet still have depression, but it would’ve been far more manageable.

So where do we begin?

Here are the areas we need to start teaching young musicians — in schools, workshops, academies, universities — if we want to give them a fighting chance:

1. Change the language and attitudes around mental health.

• Stop saying “committed suicide.” Say “died by suicide.”

• Understand that depression isn’t “prolonged sadness.” It’s a real illness that can be treated just like cancer or broken bones.

• Reaching out isn’t limited to therapy — it’s texting a friend, talking to family, telling someone you trust.

2. Teaching students the importance of resting, and having days off.

Our bodies are not machines, and at a young age, if you learn the importance of rest, then you can learn your limitations, and push them at a healthy level.

3. Remind musicians they are human first, artists second.
Being an artist doesn’t make you immune to burnout or unworthy of self-care.
The more you take care of yourself, especially early on, the greater your chances of having a long career, and living a fulfilling life.

4. Practise patience just as much as you practise your scales, and accept mistakes will happen.
Mistakes aren’t proof that you’re “not good enough.”
They’re part of the process — and you will make new ones no matter how much you learn.
The goal isn’t to avoid mistakes forever; the goal is to recover quicker and learn deeper.

5. Look beneath the surface when someone withdraws.
When someone becomes more reclusive, not showing up on time, appears more tired, not to assume they’re lazy or if it’s a behavioural problem. More often than not, there is more below the surface and this can give educators the necessary skills to be empathetic and point students towards proper treatment.

6. Encouraging everyone to share their experiences without any judgement.
Letting peers know “I’m feeling this too” removes the isolation instantly.
It reminds young musicians that they’re not defective — they’re human.

7. Recognise that symptoms vary — but every symptom is valid.
Depression, anxiety, burnout, and suicidal ideation all have environmental, financial, social, and emotional layers.
One person’s “mild” can be another person’s “severe.”
Both are just as serious, so we must recognise they’re just as valid as each other.

In the end, I know that there is going to be friction and obstacles to get here. For one, funding for public institutes is the biggest factor. It’s going to take a long time.

If public schools had more resources, teachers could be properly trained to spot early signs of mental illness, respond with empathy, and guide students toward real support.

In Australia we have external non-profit organisations such as Gotcha4Life, the Resilience Project that come to schools for talks. As great as they are, they’re not regular and tend to visit schools only once or twice.

But if these became regular or at least semi-permanent parts of school curriculums, it’ll give students the chance to learn these skills on a practical level.

This has to start with a cultural shift:

• Move away from “it’s just a phase.”

• Stop forcing people to speak up before they’re ready.

• Don’t pull away when someone isolates — come closer.

• And stop treating mental health as optional.

If we teach these skills early, young musicians won’t just cope better.
They’ll have a real shot at pursuing their dreams without destroying their health in the process.

And beyond that — society will finally begin treating mental health and physical health as equals.

To finish off, I encourage you to read these articles about the need for mental health support in schools.

The one from the Guardian is about pushing for government funding, whilst the one from Monash provides details on how having resilience based programs has an immediate impact on improving student mental health.

The more awareness we have around this subject, the greater the chances that one day these changes will happen sooner rather than later.

Thank you so much for joining me for today’s newsletter.

If you’re someone who has worked in education, particularly music education, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this and how you’d go about bringing mental health awareness into schools.

You can email me directly - [email protected] - and we’ll set up a zoom to have a chat.

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