One Direction at the height of their fame. Fred Duval/FilmMagic
On TikTok, the BBC is running a livestream of a vigil in Buenos Aires; women in their mid-twenties gather with candles and side-fringes, singing One Direction ballads in heavy accents. News of Liam Payne’s sudden death aged 31 has broken overnight; X timelines are raking through “crime scene” photos from the singer’s hotel room. The fanbase is in crisis. “Did he even know how much he freaking meant to us?” pleads one. A video from a club in the UK captures the moment Payne’s death was announced — around midnight on Wednesday. It goes viral. The DJ honours the moment by playing a 1D song; girls are crying as they dance. For the original “Directioners”, this is a sea-change moment; it is the first time that many have experienced the death of a teen idol.
It is easy to forget just how big a deal One Direction once was. Though for my part a vehicle for delicious teenaged disdain, this X-Factor-forged grouping made its way from the brain of Simon Cowell into the dreams and diaries of a generation of teenage girls. So widespread was the contagion that the general phrase “in one direction” could not be uttered in a classroom without at least a couple of girls whooping. These Harry Styles fangirls (for it was always Harry, not Liam, who commanded the most attention) are now professional women hurtling towards their thirties — who still hold a dim candle for the floppy-haired fivesome, and still plan on walking down the aisle to Story of my Life. One school friend, wistfully recalls the O2 gig for their 2013 Take Me Home tour. “In a way, we’ve all grown up with the boys of One Direction,” she tells me, with a reverence last heard when the Queen died.
Zayn Malik’s departure in 2015, followed by the band’s “indefinite hiatus”, prompted a period of mourning compared at the time — to the dismay of most — with John leaving the Beatles in 1969. If Lennon’s assassination had taken place in the age of Musk’s X rather than in fax-tastic 1980, the response may well have been similar to yesterday morning’s World of Payne conspiracy bed-in. For the social-media response to Liam Payne’s death was, to put it simply, a mess. It represents the bottom of the barrel of feverish panic untethered from reality, frenzied feeling untempered by context. Twitter is awash with unverified images of a smashed television, a dirty bathroom scattered with burnt foil, lighters, white powder on a desk and a blackened soda-can lid. A spurious source tells of a drug-addled attempt to jump into a pool from a balcony. Others blame Payne’s ex-girlfriend Maya Henry, whose roman à clef, Looking Forward, said to be based on their fraught relationship, has just come out. In it, the main character, Mallory, starts going out with Oliver, a former member of the winkingly named band 5Forward. Oliver is violent, addicted and constantly threatening suicide.
The Maya question becomes the touch paper for a savage social-media row about toxic relationships and accountability. Elsewhere, unsubstantiated rumours of forced abortions bubble up; the One Direction fandom, known for ruthlessly hunting down suspected girlfriends when the band was together, seems to have carried on the toxic feminine fixation into grisly finger-pointing in this moment of tragedy — not unlike how Yoko Ono was singled out as the catalyst for Lennon’s departure from the Beatles. And Liam-Lennon comparisons don’t end there. While the latter’s solo career merits considerably more praise than Payne’s — as anyone who’s both seen the questionable choreography for 2017’s “Strip That Down” and listened to the masterwork that is “Plastic Ono Band” knows — both had difficult final years, pockmarked by addiction and abuse allegations. Lennon’s little-remarked-upon Reagan fanboy era is less embarrassing than anything Payne has said, thought or breathed since 2016, but Lennon had the grace of analogue media, so that interview blips vanished into the ether.
Payne, conversely, has suffered many moments of accidental virality since leaving the band: the worst was in the aftermath of Will Smith’s wife-defending bitchslap of Chris Rock at the 2022 Oscars. Caught by a Good Morning Britain reporter on the red carpet, jaw swinging and eyes wide, Payne embarked on a bizarre two-minute, 27-second appraisal of the slap. “There were three losers in one fight,” he drawled, with the dawn-defying certainty of someone standing in a stranger’s kitchen at 6am. “He didn’t know, being Chris Rock. He didn’t wanna do what he had to do, being Will Smith. And she did nothing, being Jada.” He went on to designate Smith “one of the world’s best emoters”, confirming — presumably in a moment of paranoia — “We’re all very human, right?” Another similarly viral moment is a clip from an interview with Logan Paul that same year, in which he recalls a physical fight with a 1D bandmate. Having been thrown up against a wall, Payne rehearses his Liam Neeson-style response: “If you don’t remove those hands, there’s a high likelihood you’ll never use them again.”
Payne’s trajectory is that of the first generation of celebs to become real-time memes; in his lifetime, he was ruthlessly mocked for these moments of cockiness and cringe. The shock, sorrow and speculation on social media rings somewhat hollow given the brutality of those same sites to a man who must have seemed for a time, untouchable — but whose mental health problems were no doubt aggravated by never being truly taken seriously, digitally haunted by his own gaucherie.
To put it in Gen Z terms, “Liam Payne’s fall-off needs to be studied”. His life and death is fascinating because of its trajectory from the waiting rooms of an ITV talent show to the living rooms of millions of Saturday-night viewers, thence to the Twitter feeds of sniggering haters (“have you seen Liam Payne’s filler!”) and now the sombre and legally cautious front pages of the nationals. He leaves behind a seven-year-old son, Bear, fathered with the former X-Factor judge Cheryl Cole, and a murky, desperate legacy. A 14-year-old from Wolverhampton was slingshotted into stratospheric fame on the relentless juggernaut of the X-Factor; too much, too young doesn’t even cut it. The hordes of parasocial teenage fans, the feverish fanfiction imagining homoerotic encounters between 1D bandmates, the ever-available drugs which, if those photos are anything to go by (and they very much may not be) had reached the final, deadly form of freebase cocaine.
It’s a narrative that repeats itself in public breakdowns or tragedies every few years — from Macaulay Culkin to Drew Barrymore, via fellow talent show martyr Darius Campbell Danesh, from the Pop Idol era of celebrity, who died in 2022 after inhaling chloroethane. For Payne and others, the fact of growing up a matinee idol, a teen heart-throb, must cause a fission in identity: you are both the “normal boy” plucked from obscurity and the floppy-fringed one on the bedroom wall. Payne’s latter-day pomposity cannot have been helped by forming this identity in rooms populated only by fans and yes-men; he never had the opportunity to be swerved on the dance floor, to be chastised or nurtured or corrected.
The One Direction boys were subject to a fame so glaring that it burrows into any vulnerability and seeks endless revenge for, as is inevitable, not ending up the person a 12-year-old fan imagined you to be 10 years ago. For Payne, whose struggles with mental health and addiction were well documented, it was a spotlight which he did not survive. Fame and youth produce a strange chemical reaction which freezes its subjects in perpetual teenage heartthrob-dom; while 1D’s fans have got jobs, filed tax returns, even started families, Payne was left to chase the impossible ideal of his 14-year-old self these women once loved him for. For all but the most hysterical of these grown-up Directioners, his death will prompt only a surprised grunt and 10 minutes of disinterested scrolling; those who once wept in arenas as he sang now have Tubes to catch, dogs to walk, lives to get on with. And Liam Payne himself? He’s just another young star to die drugged-up and paranoid, staring into the abyss, when he just needed to be put to bed and told everything is okay.
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finally, some useful insight from Poppy about a modern culture moment. Maybe keep her on for a bit longer….
She just states the obvious, about the perils of fame and fandom in the internet age.
There’s no subtlety at all. For example, no consideration of Payne’s parents, who had legal responsibility for him at the beginning of his career, and no consideration of the question of why some child stars come through it unscathed – What is it in their character and/or actions that differentiates them from Payne? Those kinds of things would be worth analysing, but Sowerby doesn’t look beneath the surface.
It may have to do with philosophy or something, but sometimes superficial one-dimensional things need to be analysed with a superficial one-dimensional approach.
or one directional
Never could have thought of that comparison with Lennon myself
Sad photo.
Obviously something needs to be explained to the downvoters who might be a bit s-l-o-w. Sad because the group were on a high in the photo, they had everything going for them, everything they hoped for and more; they had made it. And yet at that moment in the photo Liam could not know what lay ahead of him. That what he wanted, and got, would destroy him.
As they say, be careful what you wish for…..
While I accept that objectivity is all but impossible to committed fans, I’m really struggling with the idea that anyone could think Liam Payne and John Lennon are comparable figures.
Not that I care particularly. People can think what they like. It just feels like quite a stretch.
It’s not, it is the (similar) behaviour of the respective fans at the loss of a beloved artist.
An interesting take might have been how fame has a different effect on men and women, with women being more inwardly self destructive (imo).
Poppy has written instead a thoughful, respectful piece that expresses the loss of an artist from her generation, which sadly is an all too familiar story.
Agreed, but artist? I think entertainer or star would be more accurate.
I was thinking in terms of A & R (Artists and Repertoire). As a lover of music but with no talent whatsoever, I saw no reason to be dismissive of his ability which is singing.
It’s a familiar story. Perhaps the only surprise is that he got to the ripe old age of 31 (27 is the conventional age to check out in this world)
I don’t wish to seem unkind but I feel like a former boyband member, no matter how many records they sold, would look somewhat out of place alongside Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison.
Indeed, or Amy Winehouse.
Why did this get downvoted? Do you hate Amy Winehouse, another member of the 27 Club?
Heaven knows! I’m a fan
That’s a very interesting observation. What is it that makes a difference?
First of all, there’s no difference in respect of the loss felt by their loved ones, I’m sure. A young man has died prematurely and that must be a terrible thing for his friends and family who have my sympathy.
In terms of their cultural significance – which is a consideration because these are public figures – I think there is a big difference.
Typically speaking boybands – even those as big as One Direction – have their moment and then disappear. Their posters replaced on bedroom walls by the next group of non-threatening, fresh-faced, tweenage boys. There is a production line of these bands created, packaged and sold to their core audience of young girls and gay men. So far as it goes, I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with that. I don’t mind that teenage girls listen to ephemeral pop any more than I mind that my parents listen to classical music.
If a boyband is lucky then one of their number will emerge as a bone fide solo star. But in the case of One Direction I understand that is Harry Styles. The reality is that Liam Payne’s solo career foundered and the likelihood is his future involved a lot of waiting around for the next decade or so until One Direction’s core audience were old enough to discover nostalgia and demand a reunion tour.
The artists typically included in the “27 club” were figures of substantial and enduring musical and cultural significance. Hendrix widely regarded as the greatest rock guitarist of all time. Jones the founder of one of the two most important British bands of the 1960s counterculture. Cobain the man who unintentionally turned an underground rock scene in the Pacific NorthWest into a global phenomenon and took down the tyranny of Hair Metal. (Just as a side note I actually think Jim Morrison was a bit of fat hack by the end, but his legend grew in the telling.)
So I’m not suggesting its not sad that Liam Payne has died at a young age. Nor that his fans are wrong to mourn him. I just don’t think he would have belonged in the same bracket of cultural significance as Hendrix et al.
Great response.
I would start by asking who wrote their own music and/or lyrics.
I might have easily skipped this article only because I am the wrong demographic. I saw the headlines and assumed Liam Payne had been in a boy band, I had no idea it was One Direction until the news became widespread.
I was listening to Times Radio and they had two clips, one of a 14 year old Payne singing Fly Me To The Moon in which it was clear he had an outstanding singing voice. The next clip was him talking to the podcaster /entrepreneur Steven Bartlett where Payne was open about his addictions and shortcomings and wanted to change. The shocking thing to me was that he was aware of all of this but reverted to his previous behaviour in such a devastating and fatal manner.
I heard on the radio just now that he had been dropped by his record company and there were further personal issues.
I caught the end of a radio report yesterday morning with several mentions of ‘Liam’ and his problems with drink and drugs, not realising even that ‘Liam’ had died. My instinctive reaction was to think the reporter was referring to Liam Gallagher (I’m sceptical he and Noel won’t fall out before next summer).
The report concluded with the full name and I was wracking my brain to think who he was.
TV and music “industries” by their very nature attract the narcissistic, the self-absorbed, and also the ordinary. They are captained by people who do what they please, be it drugs or people or both. Fame allows them to abuse and desperation for fame creates a queue of those ready to be abused. Then the abused become the abusers and the cycle repeats and the orgy of depredation continues. It becomes impossible to tell the victims from the perpetrators. The problem for us all now is that fame and the platform media provides has allowed this to crossover into public life and influence public policy. The way an industry was run is more than likely to be how our societies will be run: for the indulgences of an elite.
Simon Cowell should hang his head in shame. He feeds these people into the meat grinder for his own profit.
As a fan of music and of autobiographies, I find it interesting to read/listen to stories about the creative drive and the need to be recognised or to be successful.
I have just finished reading producer Trevor Horn’s book on starting out as a professional musician before moving into recording and production, becoming successful at 30 (Payne died aged 31). Horn started out by quitting his job as an apprentice accountant while still in his teens to become a jobbing musician. He was sight reading bassist in a number of dance hall type bands which paid barely enough to cover the food and rent.
It’s a cliche but success can come too early. Many musicians of that period, the 1960s and 70s were still driven by the music and would avidly talk about the artists and bands that had influenced them while growing up.
In drummer Bill Bruford’s autography he recalls leaving the band Yes in 1972, just as it’s about to hit major success only to join a band that was less successful. He talks about the difference between artists and craftsmen with relation to another band that he was briefly in. The craftsmen deliberately look to produce product while the artist seeks to create music. Today it is almost all about product.
Really funny to read the disparaging comments from Unheard’s resident bunch of pseuds and smartarses. As a published writer myself I recognise Poppy’s ability to write well. Another very good article.
And yet I never heard of him till he jumped off that balcony. I am severely out of the loop.