The death of Liam Payne, who fell from a hotel balcony in Buenos Aires last night, is one of the rare instances where I think I’ll always remember what I was doing when the news broke. I was on a train, slowly rattling my way home from a gig. I thought the breaking news alert was a mistake, or a joke. Perhaps I’d had one too many pints and somehow lost the ability to read. I sent a screenshot to friends to check that it was real. My messages were soon blowing up on all platforms — a lot of “what the hell”s and “oh my God”s. One said their childhood friend had even broached decades of no contact to relay their shock.
“I think this is probably the first celebrity death that has fully stopped me in my tracks,” my partner texted me. They were bang on. For the generation that grew up with him, Liam’s is the biggest unexpected death we’ve had to grapple with so far. Once I was off my train I found myself loitering around the station entrance in the rain, not really sure what to do with myself.
Liam’s name had most recently made the social media rounds after his ex-fiancée, Maya Henry, came forward with allegations about his behaviour and reportedly started legal proceedings to stop him contacting her. Debate had ensued among fans: some were photoshopping Liam out of band pictures, others were desperately trying to reconcile the adult version of him with the shiny teen idol they’d dedicated their teen years to. The sudden, shocking news of his death has exaggerated that chasm.
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One Direction — five charming, questionably dressed teenagers scooped up by The X Factor — were such a titan of 2010s pop that it still feels too recent to properly comprehend their legacy. Beyond record-breaking sales or mammoth tours, they also became utterly entrenched in the business of being a pre-teen girl. We chose our favourites; dressed up in their outfits and performed their silly dance routines. We binge-watched the X Factor tour diaries on YouTube, adopted their in-jokes and recited passages from The Adventurous Adventures of One Direction to one another in the playground. Their presence was weaved so tightly into the fabric of our childhoods it seemed like they could never be shaken loose.
In the One Direction formula, Liam was an undeniable lynchpin. He was once mocked online for decreeing himself the ‘leader’ of the band, but it wasn’t a totally baseless claim. Nicknamed ‘Daddy Direction’ for his status as the group’s most responsible member, his vocals are central to all five of their records; he was involved in writing a lot of their later albums and, particularly in the beginning, his confidence on stage helped carry live performances. His phobia of spoons and cameo as choreographer Leeroy in the ‘Best Song Ever’ music video also went down as critical tenets of 1D lore. He may not have been the breakout star Harry became, but I don’t believe the band would have worked without him.
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The brevity of One Direction’s actual run — more or less five years — is at odds with the sheer amount they managed to achieve. Taylor Swift feels like the only obvious point of comparison, but she at least gets to navigate the peak absurdities of her life as a 30-something adult, not a 17-year-old. The scale of their fame, adoration, and examination remains dizzying to wrap my head around.
Several friends have, like me, been met with a wave of existentialism today. This was a news alert we subconsciously assumed wouldn’t come until we were deep in our 60s, at least; even then it would feel surreal. Liam only appeared on The X Factor for the first time in 2008. He returned in 2010, kicking off an epochal career that has somehow ended fewer than 15 years later. This time ten years ago, Zayn was still in the band. Liam, Louis, Harry and Niall had an entire album rollout to go before their eventual hiatus. Looking back, the timeline is disarmingly, devastatingly short.
Since the story broke, various tabloids and news outlets have busied themselves churning out poorly-proofed and misleading social media lines; publishing photos of the body and broadcasting the 911 call. Obscene, traumatising details his son will likely stumble upon one day make for excellent click-rates and audience figures, after all — ethics be damned.
Twenty four hours isn’t enough time to piece together grand, nuanced philosophies about a life exposed to more fame than a person should probably ever experience, or the tragic way that Liam’s ended. The overwhelming thought I’m sitting with is how complicated, volatile and fragile life can be. One fifth of the world’s biggest boy band has died far too young, leaving a lot of people to navigate some hugely difficult emotions.
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Words: Caitlin Chatterton