DJ Avicii’s father’s struggle to overcome his death: ‘Sometimes I get mad at him. Why did you leave us?’

Avicii, who committed suicide in 2018 at age 28, was a celebrity who transformed EDM music. After his death, his family created a foundation to raise awareness about mental health.

After years of driving different shots A global success and at just 28 years old, Swedish DJ Avicii decided to take his own life on April 20, 2018, while on holiday in Oman.

“I miss him every minute,” says Klas Bergling, the DJ’s father, during a candid and deeply personal video call.

“Of course I talk to him every day. But…” he pauses, “I admit that sometimes I get angry with him. Why did you do it? Why did you leave us?”

Avicii, whose given name was Tim, achieved fame as explosive as the buzz of synthesizers in his hit Levels.

The 2011 hit, which features a lighthearted sample of an Etta James song, catapulted the then 22-year-old Swede to fame.

In the next five years, as the dance music evolved into the ubiquitous chart-topping genre known as EDM, with Levels like her anthem, Avicii has become her blond, high-cheekboned poster boy – by some reports, earning $250,000 (about R$1.3 million) a night during his tours.

But at the age of 26 he retired from performing.

In a message to fans, he mentioned his physical and mental health, without detailing the extent of his problems, which included anxiety, pancreatitis, alcohol and painkiller addiction.

Despite a period of recovery, producing music away from the spotlight, Tim continued to struggle with inner demons in his search for existential answers.

Now, his family wants people to get to know Tim away from the spotlight by releasing a book of photos to honor his legacy.

It is part of the family’s efforts through the Tim Bergling Foundation, created in his memory in 2019, to open up discussion about the mental health crisis among young people.

Klas, who has carefully curated photos of Tim from childhood to success, explains: “We want to help people see beyond Avicii’s fame. That’s also why we titled his posthumous album Tim“.

Reflecting on the deep connection fans still feel with the DJ, demonstrated by the thousands of letters and messages paying tribute to the young man on his website, Klas says: “Tim meant so much to young people: his music, his lyrics and his person.”

“At first I didn’t understand why, but then a fan said, ‘Tim was authentic’. I understood. Many young people identify with that authenticity, with his honesty and his struggles.”

millennial star

Tim achieved fame in a very “millennial” way, for his generation: by posting songs online.

He adopted the name Avicii in 2008, in reference to the layers of hell in Buddhism, after discovering that someone was already using his name on the MySpace platform.

He briefly signed to BBC Radio 1 DJ Pete Tong after winning a talent competition.

But Tim struggled with anxiety from an early age, often having catastrophic thoughts and fearing he had cancer.

The use of marijuana awakened in him the fear of going crazy and dissociation.

Klas recalls that Tim had intense “identity issues” during his adolescence.

After a few meetings with a psychologist, Tim felt better. However, the tour exacerbated his anxiety.

A text message reproduced in Tim’s 2021 biography reveals his father’s concerns: “Hi Tim, I hope your inspiration is enough for this big tour, with shows every day. From your old man.”

The hectic schedule took its toll.

AS Levels It had nearly 20 million views on YouTube before its official release, Tim’s tour included performances in the United States, New Zealand, Australia and Asia, often playing multiple shows in different cities on the same day.

Trying to calm down, Tim turned to alcohol.

“I found the magic cure of having a few drinks before continuing,” he said in the documentary Avicii: True Stories.

This dependence grew as he traveled. In 2013, she told GQ magazine: “You’re traveling, you’re living out of a suitcase… You get to a place and there’s free alcohol everywhere.”

In 2012, he took a 26-day trip across the United States, which caused stomach pain due to alcohol consumption.

He was hospitalized and prescribed opioids to treat worsening pancreatitis, beginning a cycle of health problems and addiction.

The following year in Australia, his pancreatitis returned, but he refused to have his gallbladder removed to avoid canceling further appointments.

He was again prescribed opioids. His appendix eventually ruptured, requiring surgery.

Klas emphasizes the need for systemic change in the music industry, but is careful to avoid assigning individual blame.

“I still think that record labels, touring people, agents and managers should really show that they’re in good shape. That’s how artists should be treated,” the father says.

While acknowledging some positive changes following Tim’s death, pointing out that “these days Swedish managers at major record companies are more aware”, Klas stresses that more comprehensive measures are needed to ensure the well-being of artists.

Survivors’ guilt

Tim’s health problems coincide with his business success.

His debut album, REALwho introduced the sounds Villagebrought successes such as wake me up AND Hey Brother.

In 2015, his mental state worsened further due to drug abuse, angry outbursts and erratic behavior.

Although he promised that his second album, Storieswould have been his best, his problems led to delays, nihilistic speeches on stage and run-ins with the paparazzi.

That summer, Klas and the DJ leadership team knew something had to be done.

With a therapist they planned an intervention in Ibiza. In an interview with the Times newspaper, Klas said he felt he had betrayed his son.

I ask what he meant at the time.

“You’re dealing with your son, who has no idea what’s going to happen,” the father says.

Tim’s distressed reaction was evident.

“You see, he realizes that something is being planned behind his back.”

But it was a necessary intervention, Klas says.

“There was no question about doing it, but getting to this point is not easy.”

Tim, ever stubborn, seemed confused, thinking he was being criticized despite working tirelessly.

After hours of resistance, he agreed to go to rehab, telling Klas, “I had decided hours ago, but I just wanted to test you.”

Klas smiles, proud of his son’s “courage”. After rehab, Tim struggled to escape what he described as the “machine that was Avicii” and stopped working with his manager.

The documentary Avicii: True Storiescompleted before his death, it shows Tim on a beach, seemingly quiet and away from tourist visits.

The news of the suicide was to be included as a shocking postscript addition.

Klas admits that the sadness is compounded by the fact that “my wife and his brothers were happy that he was improving in many ways.”

“It may seem contradictory, but it was true. He was getting better.”

Klas explains that guilt is “a very big burden” for suicide survivors (grieving the death of someone who committed suicide), who often ask themselves, “What did I do wrong?”

But he acknowledges, as therapists have told him, that “often nothing can be done.”

Fiftieth anniversary project

The Tim Bergling Foundation is funding a national suicide prevention hotline in Sweden, while the government works on legislation to improve suicide research.

It’s all part of Klas’ 50-year plan to solidify his son’s legacy.

During a concert honoring the DJ, Klas vowed to put suicide high on the political agenda.

“We try to involve as many young people as possible, as well as politicians,” says Klas.

“One of the most impactful moments was a large group of parents who had lost their children to suicide, coming on stage. It was a very powerful moment.”

“The most important thing is to break the stigma that young people face. [Com] an unstable, war-torn world like the one the next generation will face, that’s where I think we can be useful,” the father says.

Since Tim’s death, the Stockholm arena has been renamed Avicii Arena and concerts are held Together for a better day stay in your memory.

Reflecting on Tim’s lasting influence, Klas says, “Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still very much with us.”

*If you are or know someone showing warning signs related to suicide, check out some places to get help:

– The Center for the Valorization of Life (CVV), through the telephone 188, offers a free 24-hour service; there is also the ability to chat, send emails and search for gas stations throughout Brazil;

– For young people aged 13 to 24, Unicef ​​also offers the chat Can talk;

– In case of emergency, another recommendation from experts is to call the Fire Brigade (telephone 193) or to the Military Police (telephone 190);

– Another option is to call SAMU, al telephone 192;

– In the local public network it is also possible to ask for help at the Psychosocial Assistance Centers (CAPS), in the Basic Health Units (UBS) and in the 24-hour Emergency Units (UPA);

– Also take a look at Mental health mapthat helps you find free mental healthcare throughout Brazil.

Source: Terra

Ben

Ben Stock is a lifestyle journalist and author at Gossipify. He writes about topics such as health, wellness, travel, food and home decor. He provides practical advice and inspiration to improve well-being, keeps readers up to date with latest lifestyle news and trends, known for his engaging writing style, in-depth analysis and unique perspectives.