Shawn Mendes’ new self-titled album, “Shawn,” feels like sitting down with an old friend who’s finally ready to tell you the whole truth. It’s raw and unfiltered, giving us pieces of his messy, beautiful reality. Listening to it is like having Mendes across from you, spilling everything he’s been holding back—his struggles with fame, loss, and figuring out who he really is. In a world where so much is polished to perfection, Mendes offers something rare: honesty.
A Journey Through Vulnerability
The album opens with “Who I Am,” where Mendes immediately sets the tone. “Got a lot of talk in my brain right now / Sorry, gotta do it, gotta let you down,” he sings. When he admits, “I don’t really know who I am right now,” it hits like a confession—something most of us would be too scared to say out loud. It’s a continuation of the vulnerability he hinted at in his “In Wonder” documentary, but this time, he’s not holding back.
That same rawness carries into “Why Why Why,” a track about spiraling through self-doubt. “Feels like everything goes round and round and round,” he sings, reflecting the exhaustion of stepping away from the spotlight and questioning what’s next. And when he admits, “Thought I was about to be a father / Shook me to the core, I’m still a kid,” it’s not just a lyric—it’s a reckoning. Mendes isn’t trying to wrap things up neatly; he’s just telling us how it feels, messy and unresolved.
The Weight of Pleasing Others
In his interview with Zane Lowe, Mendes opened up about a lifetime spent trying to please everyone around him. “Not that I was always putting on a show,” he said, “but I think when I was younger, there was a pleasing of everyone—at any interview, at any moment.” That relentless pressure to be everything for everyone shaped much of his early career. But now, Mendes says he’s learning to let go. “I’m just gonna be relaxed and be myself, and whatever that outcome is, it’s probably gonna be the best outcome for me.”
That message weaves through the entire album. Mendes explores the tug-of-war between meeting expectations and figuring out who he really is. It’s not a declaration of freedom as much as a messy, imperfect process of learning to let go.
Love, Loss, and Complex Feelings
Mendes’ raw vulnerability shines in his lyrics about love and relationships. Tracks like “Heart of Gold” and “That’ll Be The Day” evoke bittersweet nostalgia, capturing the simultaneous beauty and heartbreak of love. In “That’ll Be The Day,” Mendes reflects on lingering emotions: “You could move away, you could build a home / With somebody I don’t know … This love is here to stay.” But Mendes doesn’t stop at exploring relationships; he also turns inward. On “Why Why Why,” he confesses, “Opened up my journal to a page / Everything that hurts me still the same.” This introspection extends to his mental health. In “Isn’t That Enough,” Mendes sings, “My hands still shaking / My mind’s still racing,” offering a window into his struggles with anxiety and despair.
“Heart of Gold” and the Pain of Unspoken Goodbyes
Perhaps the album’s most gut-wrenching moment comes in “Heart of Gold,” a tribute to Mendes’ late friend, Deijomi. During a Clubhouse session, he shared the devastating story behind the track, one he hadn’t allowed himself to face for years.
“When I was young, like 13 or 14, I had this friend, Deijomi,” Mendes began, his voice trembling with emotion. “I f**king loved Deijomi. He was so sensitive. He’d be crying his eyes out right now too…We spent everyday together for years. And then I started to make music and I got signed and started traveling and our friendship kinda started to dissipate, fade.”
Mendes talks about that moment when his friend Brian told him Deijomi was struggling with heavy drug use. Back then, Mendes admitted he was too young to fully understand what was happening. “Brian called me one day and said, ‘Deijomi, he overdosed and he died last night.’”
He admits to feeling numb and blocking out the experience. But grief has a way of finding us, even when we think we’ve outrun it. In the studio one day, Mendes and his team were wrestling with the concept for “Heart of Gold.” At first, he couldn’t quite place the title’s meaning. It was Scott, one of his closest collaborators, who unearthed the truth.
“Scott said, ‘Didn’t you have a friend who passed away from an overdose?’” Mendes recalled. “I mean, I literally must’ve just blocked it from my mind cause my answer was no. Brian was sitting in front of me, and he said his name. He said, ‘Deijomi?’ The second he said his name it just all caught up to me. Years of pain that I never processed, y’know and I still haven’t.”
From there, “Heart of Gold” became a letter to his lost friend, an outpouring of everything Mendes wished he could have said. The imagery in the song is vivid and almost spiritual, with Mendes imagining his words as a “beautiful golden ray of light blasting through the roof to find [Deijomi], wherever he was, and just covering him in that light.”
The track balances the heaviness of regret with an almost hopeful transcendence. It acknowledges the guilt of not being there when it mattered most while offering a kind of peace to both Mendes and his friend. Every time Mendes plays it, he imagines that golden light reaching Deijomi, carrying the voices of fans who have found meaning in the song.
I couldn’t help but feel like Mendes was confessing the kind of truths you only admit to yourself in the middle of the night. The emotional depth of this song sets it apart, not only as a highlight of the album but as one of the most vulnerable moments of Mendes’ career. It’s a reminder of how music can be a bridge—between the past and the present, the living and the lost. And for Mendes, it’s a way to keep Deijomi’s memory alive, transforming his grief into something that shines. Mendes explains, “Every time we got to play this song, every time people started to learn the song, they’d be singing, and he would hear it and it just felt like the greatest thing ever…Deijomi, I love you, man. This one is for you.”
Breaking Free From Expectations
Mendes’ openness feels particularly significant given the relentless public scrutiny he’s faced throughout his career. For years, speculation about his sexuality has lingered, with tabloids and social media dissecting his every move. This fixation has often overshadowed his artistry, reducing him to a figure of gossip rather than a musician to celebrate. Mendes, however, refuses to be defined by the narratives imposed on him.
On “The Mountain,” he directly confronts these pressures. “You can say I’m too young / You can say I’m too old / You can say I like girls or boys / Whatever fits your mold,” he sings. There’s a quiet power in those words—a reminder that it’s okay to live outside the boxes people try to put you in.
Similarly to “The Mountain,” Mendes tackles themes of spirituality and faith through his stunning cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” In an interview shared on X (formerly Twitter), Mendes reflected on his decision to include the song in the album, explaining how his understanding of its meaning has evolved over time.
“I never really could grasp the concept of what [Cohen] was reckoning with, which was the idea of God and spirit,” Mendes said. “And at 26, after going through my own kind of relationship with that, those lyrics just felt so resonant and just felt like the right time.”
Having performed the song countless times earlier in his career, Mendes admitted that it wasn’t until now that he truly connected with its deeper message. This new perspective transforms the cover into something intimate and reflective, serving as a bridge between his personal journey and the universal themes of doubt, faith, and hope. It’s a moment that feels both deeply personal and profoundly relatable, inviting listeners to consider their own relationship with belief and meaning.
At his recent show at Red Rocks, Mendes addressed the long-standing speculation regarding his sexuality with a heartfelt, unfiltered speech that captured his inner conflict and ongoing journey. “Man, y’know, since I was really young, there’s been this thing about my sexuality and people have been talking about it for so long,” he shared. “I think it’s kind of silly because I think sexuality is such a beautifully complex thing and it’s so hard to just put it into boxes. It always felt like an intrusion on something very personal to me. Something that I was figuring out in myself. Something that I had yet to discover and still have yet to discover.” His words resonated deeply, not just because they were vulnerable, but because they reflected a broader truth: nobody should be forced to publicly define or label their identity.
Sexuality is, as Mendes says, “a beautifully complex thing,” and no one should feel obligated to discuss it on anyone’s timeline but their own. The pressure Mendes has faced is emblematic of a larger issue in our culture—a need to categorize people, to assign labels, and to demand answers to questions that are intensely personal. This pressure not only disregards Mendes’ humanity but perpetuates harmful norms that insist on visibility without consent. Mendes deserves better. He deserves the space to live his truth without having to clarify it for public consumption.
His speech at Red Rocks was a powerful reminder that everyone is entitled to the time and privacy they need to explore their identity. As Mendes put it, “The real truth about my life and my sexuality is that man, I’m just figuring it out like everyone and I don’t really know sometimes and I know other times. It feels really scary because we live in a society that has a lot to say about that and I’m trying to be really brave and just allow myself to be a human and feel things.”
In a society that too often demands certainty, Mendes’ honesty feels revolutionary. He isn’t pretending to have all the answers or fitting into a convenient mold—he’s simply sharing his journey, in all its uncertainty and beauty. Mendes is reminding us that it’s okay not to have everything figured out and that strength lies in embracing the unknown.
Mendes’ willingness to be vulnerable, even in the face of societal pressure, sets a powerful example. It’s a call to let people live their truths, to honor the complexity of identity, and to recognize that authenticity is not a performance—it’s a journey. Mendes deserves to navigate that journey without the weight of public expectations, and his courage in sharing it inspires us to grant that same grace to ourselves and others.
In sharing his struggles so openly, Mendes dismantles the stigma around mental health and self-doubt. His album is an invitation to do the same—to live authentically, to prioritize our well-being, and to embrace our flaws.
A Call for Empathy
What makes “Shawn” so powerful is its humanity. Mendes doesn’t pretend to have all the answers. Instead, he offers his truth, messy and complicated as it is, as a way to bridge the gap between individual experiences. By being so open about his struggles, he not only reclaims his narrative but also challenges us to do the same in our own lives.
“Shawn” doesn’t shy away from the messiness of being human. That’s what makes this album stand out—it feels real. In a world obsessed with polished perfection, Mendes asks: What’s more human than showing up as you are—flaws and all?
This album holds an incredibly special place in my heart. As someone who deeply values authenticity and is on her own journey of self-discovery, listening to “Shawn” feels like Mendes has put words and melodies to emotions I’ve struggled to articulate. It’s more than a collection of songs; it’s a mirror to my own journey, a reminder that even in the messiest, most uncertain moments, there’s beauty in being real.
Tracks like “Heavy” and “Nobody Knows” stand out as personal favorites for me. They remind me that vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s power. They remind me that it’s okay to not have it all figured out, that there’s strength in admitting you’re lost. Mendes’ music feels like a hand reaching out in the dark, whispering, “It’s okay. I’ve been there too.” And in that, I find a sense of comfort, courage, and connection that I didn’t realize I needed so badly.
