15 Songs That Directly Address Mental Health, From The Beatles To Ariana Grande To ‘Encanto’

As long as there have been humans, there has been music — as well as mental illness. Thereby, people must have been singing about it since the beginning, right?

Sure. But music's an abstract, poetic artform, so the topic usually isn't approached literally. That's why Hank Williams wrote "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," not "I'm Depressed And Also An Alcoholic." And why the Rolling Stones called it "Paint It, Black," not "Wantonly Projecting My Trauma."

So, what does that mean for mental illness and the history of popular music? That delineations aren't always neat and tidy. That's why GRAMMY.com prepared a list of songs that address psychological maladies, more-or-less directly.

Obviously, it's not exhaustive — how could a list that leaves out all pre-1968 music be? Plus, It's not like these tunes have to reference the DSM-5 — it's that, to make the cut, they should touch on anxiety, depression, addiction, PTSD, and other conditions without too many buffering layers.

With that in mind, here are 15 songs from across the decades that got real about the realities of mental illness, and how to overcome it.

The Beatles, "Yer Blues" (1968)

After years of freewheeling experimentation in the studio, the Fabs finally jammed out in a room together. Eyeball-to-eyeball, they recorded "Yer Blues," John Lennon's 12-bar cry for help from the White Album.

Never before or since — not even on 1970's shockingly confessional Plastic Ono Band — had he been this candid about suicidal depression in a song. And more than half a century later, "Yer Blues" remains bracing, cathartic and strangely giddy.

Bill Fay, "Be Not So Fearful" (1970)

Skip the string-swelling version from Bill Fay's self-titled debut and seek out the stripped-down demo, found on From The Bottom of An Old Grandfather Clock. What you'll hear is a pocket-sized hymn for when the enemy within has you on the ropes.

"Someone watches you," the English singer/songwriter promises, "you will not leave the rails." A rare thing: a convincing argument against anxiety, and a song of honest-to-goodness utility.

Daniel Johnston, "Peek a Boo" (1982)

Throughout his long, unconventional career until his untimely death in 2019, singer/songwriter Daniel Johnston unflinchingly detailed his hopes, longings and fears in his rough-hewn music — as well as his struggles with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.

His songbook is littered with sometimes harrowing songs about the latter, but "Peek a Boo" sums it up: "I'm tired from being kidnapped by a dark wolf that would do me in."

Swans, "God Damn the Sun" (1989)

While mostly known for skull-rattling noise jams and symphony scale indie rock, Swans have at least one unforgettable acoustic ballad.

The majestic, doomed "God Damn the Sun" isn't just worthy of Leonard Cohen — because of leader Michael Gira's unvarnished language, it arguably surpasses even the Godfather of Goth's sense of despair.

"I've got one thing to say before I am drunk again," Gira seethes, before condemning life on Earth — all of it. But he made it through, and so can all of us. And when we're in the depths of sorrow articulated in "God Damn the Sun," sometimes pitch-black commiseration feels paradoxically healing.

Bob Dylan, "Not Dark Yet" (1997)

Less theatrical than "God Damn the Sun" yet no less unequivocal about depression, this late-period masterpiece from Time Out of Mind is the soundtrack to self-inventory deep into the night.

"Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb," Uncle Bob sings over a gorgeous soundscape by producer Daniel Lanois, sounding depleted and discouraged. "I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from."

What a monument to a universal facet of the human condition — a fearsome enemy, but not one that has to consume us.

Sia, "Breathe Me" (2004)

Sia's "Breathe Me" feels like a continuation of Nine Inch Nails' (and Johnny Cash's) classic "Hurt" — only left off this list due to its ubiquity — thanks to its opening lines.

"Help, I have done it again/ I have been here many times before," she sings. "Hurt myself again today/ And, the worst part is there's no one else to blame."

Hung on piano and a hangdog string section, "Breathe Me" is a dispatch about despair and vulnerability that belongs on a shelf with the best of them.

Amy Winehouse, "Wake Up Alone" (2006)

Sadly, the wildly talented Amy Winehouse didn't win her battle against drug and alcohol addiction — alcohol poisoning got her at only 27.

But she left behind a monster body of work — including her breakthrough album Back to Black, which garnered her a whopping five GRAMMYs.

Over a doo-wop rhythm and stabbing chords, "Wake Up Alone" is both a love song and a gripping expression of crepuscular loneliness and discontent. "That silent sense of content that everyone gets," Winehouse sings, "Just disappears soon as the sun sets."

Paramore, "Fake Happy" (2017)

The juxtaposition of crestfallen lyrics with a sparkling melody is the heart of power-pop — and by extension, pop-punk and alternative rock. And Paramore, who's been at the vanguard of both subgenres for almost 20 years, blends these qualities masterfully.

"Fake Happy," an inspired single from After Laughter, captures the feeling of feigning a grin when you're down in the dumps. "If I go out tonight, dress up my fears," asks bandleader Hayley Williams, "you think I'll look alright with these mascara tears?"

Ariana Grande, "breathin" (2018)

Despite dealing with high-profile breakups and PTSD from horror of the Manchester Arena bombing, Ariana Grande examines her internal mechanisms with humility and magnanimity. (Just think of her immortal line: "I'm so f***ing grateful for my ex.")

"breathin," from Sweetener, is no different. "Feel my blood runnin', swear the sky's fallin'/ How do I know if this s***'s fabricated?" she asks. Grande doesn't get self-pitying or pretend to have the answers — instead, she looks to a universal human balm during throttling times.

"Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin' and breathin'," she sings in the hook, over and over and over — like she's telling herself to hang in there as much as us.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, "It Gets Easier" (2020)

Since his Drive-By Truckers days, Jason Isbell has written like a surgeon about fundamental topics — his sociopolitical beliefs; his relationship with his wife, Amanda Shires; and his decade-plus of sobriety.

True to the current state of his recovery, "It Gets Easier" isn't about getting on the wagon, but staying on it. It begins with a "drunk dream," a common phenomenon among those sobering up. "I had one glass of wine/ I woke up feeling fine/ That's how I knew it was a dream," he sings.

Taking a cue from his friend and mentor, the late John Prine, Isbell sums up the tune in a crystalline thesis of a hook, over a kicking guitar riff: "It gets easier, but it never gets easy."

G Herbo, "PTSD" (2020)

File this one with Grande's Sweetener, which addresses the Manchester Bombing and her emotions in its wake.

While many of the entries insofar on this list deal with anxiety, depression or substance abuse, rapper G Herbo homes in on a very specific and sometimes misunderstood malady: post-traumatic stress disorder.

"I got a war zone inside of my head / I made it on my own, they said I'd be in jail or dead," he raps in "PTSD," featuring Chance the Rapper, Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD. "I've seen my brothers fall over and over again / Don't stand too close to me, I got PTSD."

"I felt like people may look at my situation and my life like I don't do these things, like I don't have problems, like I don't endure pain or stress," Herbo told GRAMMY.com in 2020. "I just wanted the world to know that we all are the same."

Francisca Valenzuela, "La Fortaleza" (2020)

"La Fortaleza" — meaning "the fortitude" or "the strength" — is an impactful statement by Chilean singer/songwriter Francisca Valenzuela about finding the resilience to go on.

"Everything that has happened has led me to today," she sings. "I look forward to the horizon/ I bury guilt and leave." But Valenzuela isn't giving up, or stepping into oblivion. She's beginning anew.

"With my pen and my poem/ I will cross the mountain range," she sings, framing artistic expression as a magical weapon for healing and self-transformation. "And if I am in the middle of the storm/ Be the calm that sustains the center of the earth."

Julia Michaels, "Anxiety" (2021)

Some measure of trepidation is necessary for survival, but full-blown anxiety warps that psychological tool — into one that can undermine our day-to-day relationships.

Singer/songwriter Julia Michaels clearly understood this while writing "Anxiety," a cut from Melancholic Mood featuring Selena Gomez. "My friends, they wanna take me to the movies," she sings. "I tell 'em to f*** off/ I'm holding hands with my depression."

"For the first year [of mass success], I was having panic attacks, I was hiding in hallways, I was running away, people couldn't find me," Michaels told Billboard in 2019. Which, she explains, is often hidden in artists behind glitzy promotional machinery.

"You don't see the photoshoots and the interviews and the flying all the time and the being away from everyone and everything you love," she continued. But thanks to "Anxiety," the entire planet saw her clearly.

Jessica Darrow, "Surface Pressure" (from Encanto) (2021)

The hit Disney flick Encanto treated viewers to a nuanced take on Latine family dynamics, and "Surface Pressure" — written by Lin-Manuel Miranda as the character Luisa's solo — captures bluster that obfuscates insecurity.

"I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous/ I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is," it begins. But then Miranda's tune cracks that facade: "Under the surface/ I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus."

The strength and incisiveness of "Surface Pressure" speaks to what makes certain Disney and Pixar films special — despite being marketed to children, they speak to universal human truths.

Jimmie Allen, "Untitled Song" (2022)

Country star Jimmie Allen's trajectory may have led him to a GRAMMY nomination, but it was flecked with difficulties and hardship. Specifically, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a young teen, and the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic didn't help at all.

But Allen hasn't just come to terms with this reality — he's made it public so that he might help others in his boat. On April 19, he posted a performance of an unreleased and untitled song, about "pain [that] pulls me apart like a ripped-up floor" and feeling "always on the edge."

"I wrote this song about how I feel a lot of the time," Allen tweeted. "Mental illness is something I have struggled with my entire life."

Of course, he's far from alone. But as always, music is one of our most precious gifts to bridge those divides and forge those missing connections — and, consequently, let the light in.

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