It may not boast the optimism of I’m Still Standing or the anguish of Everybody Hurts but perhaps what Sit Down offers is one better – empathy. There is certainly a time and place for a good old cry to REM or fleeting moments of empowerment when you declare that, like Elton, you’re still standing but there is always room for companionship, particularly when battling the relentless tide that is mental health.

As messages of hope and change transmitted across radio stations for World Mental Health Day, James coincidently intervened, beckoning us to sit next to him (the band and the song that is. There wasn’t an actual man named James offering up a chair or anything). What, on the face of it, appears to be a boisterous song – one of those ‘laddish’ types perfectly akin to the 90’s Britpop era – is actually pretty profound and offers a sense of togetherness that anyone struggling with their mental health needs.

Mental health awareness. The idea that we’re all in this together. We’ve got your back – for there is truly no lonelier place than under that dark cloud. The practicalities of this message are a little more nuanced. Patience wanes and understanding gives way to frustration. Those suffering don’t seem to be helping themselves. In the throes of such despair, solutions aren’t necessarily sought – seemingly unrealistic notions that everything will be ok – but rather the reassurance that it’s ok not to be ok. This can, at times, seem counterintuitive. Is it ok not to be ok? Well no, it’s not ideal but actually it is ok. Because by casting further judgement on ourselves, asking unanswerable questions such as “Why me?” we only create further pain.

Music as a source of solace and support during difficult periods is nothing new. How often have we played our favourite song when weighed down by the burdens of everyday life in a bid to feel better? Or sang through ours sobs to the saddest song we can think of in the hope of feeling not quite so alone? Music is a powerful medium, after all – it allows us to feel connected to something beyond ourselves. Its awe-inspiring effect has been shown to increase levels of dopamine in the brain making it a logical go-to when times are tough. A recent analysis published by the Journal of the American Medical Association Network adds further credence to this. Examining the impact of music on mental health by reviewing studies carried out across the world, the findings confirmed that “music interventions are linked to meaningful improvements in wellbeing.” I think instinctively we all knew this. As renowned neurologist, Oliver Sacks put “Music has a unique power to express inner states or feelings. Music can pierce the heart directly; it needs no mediation.” How else can we explain the phenomena that is music?

How we use music will vary. Some of us may opt to wallow, choosing a song that echoes our emotional state, or we might force ourselves to snap out of it by playing one of our favourite upbeat songs. Here, somewhere between the realms of dejection and optimism, sits the James’ record, Sit Down.  It allows us to feel whatever we are feeling without any sense of having to change this state. It is a tribute to acceptance and understanding.

Released for second time in 1991, the song was met with success reaching number two in the UK charts and was the 20th best-selling single of the year in the UK. Three decades later and James’ biggest hit has stood the test of time as a resounding anthem. I implore you to find an audience that won’t automatically chorus or do that unanimous crowd-jump when the opening bars play. James’ guitarist, Larry Gott wasn’t wrong when he described it as “one of those songs that encourages people to put their arms around strangers.” I’ve bore witness to this on countless occasions. I am one of those people.

And, of course, the writer of Sit Down experienced his own form of internal struggle – how else could he identify so poignantly? Insomnia, chronic pain, mood swings, all these experiences subtly feature within the lyrics, painting the bleak picture of mental ill-health. Tim Booth talked about the loneliness behind the song: “it was about being awake at 4am and having no one to talk to”.  Where he found company in Patti Smith and Doris Lessing, we can find this in Booth’s message.

As the songs builds to a climax and reaches its crux, those suffering from depression, its counterpart anxiety and those plagued by self-doubt are invited to share their pain.

Those who feel a breath of sadness, sit down next to me.
Those who feels they’re touched by madness, sit down next to me.
Those who find themselves ridiculous, sit down next to me.

This simple gesture – sit down next to me – be it in silence, arm in arm or side by side is everything. The idea that someone is willing to, even momentarily, share your burden can mean so much more than any forced positivity. No one expects you to fix them. To someone who often feels touched by madness, I find such comfort, such hope in this invitation. Booth stated himself that the empathetic lyrics were his “way of wanting to be a beacon for other people”. 32 years and counting, and I’d say mission accomplished.

Music, decisively evocative in nature and our go-to to either dwell in self-pity or reenergise our weary souls, often forms the soundtrack to our lives. It makes sense given the now-evidenced neurological response.  And while there will be days that you’ll give in and bawl (because that’s also important) and others where you might triumph over your illness, this somewhere in the middle, with company, is the best place to be because ultimately “it’s hard to carry on when you’re feeling all alone”.

Cheers James, I’ll take that seat next to you anytime.