Avicii I’m Tim Netflix
I recently watched a Tim Bergling documentary about the DJ better known as Avicii — and you should watch it too. Here’s why.
Avicii was a DJ, songwriter, and musician at a time when dance music was king. I try to hang onto the coattails of what the kids are listening to, but alas, I was in my mid-40s when he came onto the scene.
Don’t worry — I’d never try to get “down with the kids” and talk to them about it conversationally. I only listen to it privately, on my own Spotify account.
Anyway, enough of that. The documentary starts with the story of Tim Bergling, who used to make music on his computer. He was a genius. At first he only made tunes for fun, but gradually he got much, much better.
His ability reminds me of a scene in Amadeus, the film about Mozart and Salieri, the court composer to the King. Avicii’s skill was that of Mozart. Mozart demonstrates his superiority in a scene early in the film, where Salieri writes and plays him a welcome song. Mozart hears it, sits down at the piano, and instantly makes the same song a million times better. I accept that reworking someone else’s tune on the fly is just what DJs do — but Avicii did it close to genius level.
Spoilers Ahead: Avicii’s Death Explained
Throughout the documentary, we watch his rise to fame and how the music industry can mess people up. What started as a hobby for Tim became all-consuming, and it stopped being fun.
He became a hugely successful, world-conquering DJ. On stage, he was Avicii; off stage, he was Tim. As his success grew, the line between the two began to blur.
He was, by all accounts, a vulnerable man — and that vulnerability was exactly what let him pour his soul into his music. As the stress mounted, he drove himself harder. He became addicted to opioid painkillers. He had drive, but it had stopped being fun.
The painkillers filled him with angst, and the deadlines became immovable mountains. He’d wake up and everything would feel unbearable until the next pill. In between doses, he’d try to manage the stress by chasing impossible deadlines. A vicious circle.
His friends and family reached him in time. They got him into rehab, and he quit DJing. He discovered meditation and similar practices. He had more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life. Music became a pleasure again, and he started a band.
Then he went to Oman to meditate. While he was there, he took his own life. It’s the part of the film that comes closest to an Avicii death explained moment, and even then, the documentary is honest that nobody really knows why.
What Did I Think? Was the death of Avicii death explained
Like a lot of good music documentaries, this Tim Bergling documentary works because it doesn’t flinch. The footage of Tim/Avicii as an innocent-looking 17-year-old, then watching him rise and gradually fall, is very sad. You can’t help but feel for him — the film makes sure of that.
It also left me with a strange sense of regret about a dance music culture I wasn’t part of as a younger man. I never took so much as a single “E” in my life. Bad Joel. The power a DJ has to manipulate a dancefloor — reading the crowd and working it — is genuinely remarkable.
That said, I wouldn’t have been dancing to Avicii; he’s too young for my dance music generation. Fatboy Slim and Oakenfold were more my era. I was far too “don’t do drugs, kids!” back then.
If you face addicition and you live in the UK then UK the NHS can help
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