Written by Hossein Filizadeh
Mersad thinks the insecure guy is the cool guy.
I think he means it.
Not because insecurity makes someone deeper, or sadness makes them more interesting. He just seems drawn to things that don’t try too hard to look perfect. Things that are a little unfinished.
I’ve known Mersad for almost ten years, since before he decided to become a rapper. Back then, he was already ridiculously good at freestyling. He could make something up on the spot and somehow make it sound like he’d written it beforehand.
There’s a playfulness to Mersad’s music, but there’s sadness there too, sometimes barely beneath the surface.
Then there’s the world Mersad has built. The music. The clothes. The videos. None of it feels separate.
There’s something genuinely gentle about Mersad. There’s sadness in him, sure, but being around him never feels sad. He’s easy to like without ever seeming like he’s trying to be liked. Maybe that’s part of why you don’t really have to be into rap to get him.
I’ve heard his music in places I didn’t expect to. In cars that weren’t mine. At parties where nobody was talking about rap. These days, when we’re out together, you can tell when a young person recognizes him. A look. A smile. A quick nudge to a friend.
Mersad can be incredibly sure about what he likes and deeply unsure about himself. He makes fun of himself constantly. Sometimes you can tell it’s a joke. Sometimes you can’t.
Maybe neither can he.
We met in Shahrak-e Gharb that night. Before getting in the car, we went to grab something to drink. Mersad is weirdly good at choosing drinks. Whatever he orders, you should probably get the same thing.
For years, we’ve driven around Tehran listening to songs of his before they came out. That night wasn’t much different.
We got in the car. He connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and started playing me some new music.
A lot has changed around him. He hasn’t.
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Hossein: What do you do when you’re not making music?
Mersad: Overthinking. Stressing the fuck out. Going, “Fuck, what if my whole life goes to shit?” Then just keeping myself busy so I don’t have to deal with any of it.
Hossein: Doing what?
Mersad: My phone. Chicks. Pointless flirting that could fuck up my whole career. (laughs)
Hossein: Is there a fictional character you relate to?
Mersad: The first thing that comes to mind right now is Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Aang achieves all these incredible things, but deep down, when he’s alone with himself, he still sees himself as a pussy. Like he can never really love himself enough. That whole thing of not being able to forgive yourself when there isn’t even anything to forgive? That’s basically the story of my life.
Hossein: Okay, one movie, one TV show, one album. What are you picking?
Mersad: For a movie, Requiem for a Dream. I watched it years ago, and it really fucked with me. I swear, half the anxiety I have in my life today is probably because of that movie. (laughs) For a show, Bezangah by Reza Attaran. And for an album, Flower Boy by Tyler, The Creator.
Hossein: So the sunflowers came from Flower Boy?
Mersad: Yeah. It comes from how much I love Tyler, The Creator, especially Flower Boy. Tyler’s always been a huge inspiration to me, both musically and as a person. I love that his whole vision goes way beyond music.
The sunflowers, the floral clothes, all that softer stuff comes from the same idea. I like putting that kind of stuff where you wouldn’t expect to see it. I’ve always been drawn to those kinds of contradictions.
The funny thing is, I’m not even that into flowers or plants. But there’s something about how fragile and defenseless a flower feels that I find really fascinating. I guess it comes from this belief I have that everything in life is kind of sad, meaningless, and fucking ridiculous anyway.
Hossein: How did you figure out your style?
Mersad: My friends had a huge influence on my taste, especially Behrad, The Blackoutwhale. And like we were talking about earlier, I probably don’t look like what you’d typically imagine a rapper to look like.
I love hip-hop fashion, but I’ve never felt like I need to dress a certain way just to prove I’m a rapper. That’s what I love about hip-hop. You can throw pretty much anything into it and make it work. That’s how I look at fashion too.
There’s something cool about being ordinary.
To me, the insecure guy is the cool guy.
If people think I look cool now, being bald is probably part of what makes it work. I get it, having hair is cool. But why the fuck do I have to get a hair transplant?
Yeah, I’m insecure. I’m sad. I’m pessimistic. That’s me, and I think that’s fucking cool. I wear plaid shirts. I wear grandpa-ass Salomons. And I think that’s cool.
Hossein: Does that carry over into your music too?
Mersad: Yeah. Like in “Golchin404,” when I say, “I wish I was so tiny I couldn’t even sit in the passenger seat,” that’s cool to me. Just going around saying, “I’m tough as fuck, I’ll beat all your asses,” does absolutely nothing for me. And neither does deliberately making my writing complicated just to sound intellectual.
What makes writing cool to me is keeping it simple and ordinary.
Hossein: There’s humor in almost everything you do. Where does that come from?
Mersad: I mean, life is fucking ridiculous. No matter how painful, sad, serious, or even honorable something is, there’s always something funny in there somewhere.
And the moments people feel like they’re not supposed to laugh at are usually the funniest ones. Like something funny happening at a funeral. That shit is way funnier to me.
I’m not really trying to make people laugh their asses off, though. It’s more sarcastic than that. It’s my way of reminding myself that absolutely nothing is that serious, while at the same time, everything is complete fucking bullshit.
In general, I think people who take everything in life seriously are fucking idiots.
Hossein: Is anything too personal to put out there?
Mersad: I don’t really have a line. There’s obviously some shit you just can’t talk about, but other than that, if I think something’s cool, I’ll put it out there. That’s what shows the different sides of who I am.
A tough guy just being tough all the time is boring as fuck to me. But that same tough guy with his head in his mom’s lap, crying? That’s a way more beautiful image.
Hossein: Is there a side of you people don’t really see?
Mersad: Maybe people think I’m super chill and just vibing all the time. I don’t mind that at all, but I’m nowhere near as happy as I probably look from the outside. My close friends are always like, “Dude, why are you always so fucking down, sad, and stressed about everything?”
Hossein: Who were your favorite Iranian rappers before you started rapping?
Mersad: I really liked Rez for how deeply he looked at life. I loved Sepehr Khalse too, because he was funny and always had this sense of freedom about him. Saman Wilson was a really good rapper. He basically started that first wave of cool-kid culture in Tehran, back when that whole lifestyle wasn’t really a thing in Iran yet.
Like, what year did “Coocooli Koo” even come out? These guys were already so casual about that shit back then. They’d done coocooli and were basically like, “Fuck it, let’s make a song about it too.” (laughs)
I was a hip-hop head back then, though. I fucked with pretty much everyone.
Hossein: And who excites you in Persian rap now?
Mersad: The last rappers I really connected with like that were probably Hoodadk4 and Hiphopologist. When Soroush was dropping tracks like “Madrese Moosha,” “Ghanooni Freestyle,” and “Adam Fazaei,” it was right around the time I was starting my own career. His shit influenced me so much that I was genuinely worried I might start sounding like him without even realizing it.
There are a lot of rappers from my generation I fuck with, but no one has influenced me that deeply or completely blown my mind. What’s different about this new wave of Persian rap is that it’s not just about the music anymore. Having a character and building your own universe matters too.
Like, Kixty is almost this sad clown character. Farzad Ghadimi, to me, is kind of like a walking corpse. And if I’m naming people I’m not particularly close with, I really fuck with Ceijy and Ramtineiem too.
YOUNGRUDEE gets me fucking hyped too. The way he raps and the shit he says are fucking terrifying.
Hossein: Is there a rap song you wish you’d made?
Mersad: I’ve never really heard a song and thought, “Fuck, I wish I’d made that.” But “Rangi” by Rez is one of those songs that made me want to create something that could hit people the way it hit me. I think “Golchin404” got me pretty close to that.
Hossein: What usually makes you want to create something?
Mersad: Being fucked. (laughs)
I get so deep into thinking about fucked-up shit that I genuinely start believing in it. Like, I’ll randomly see a street vendor and feel so fucking bad for him that, in my head, I basically become the street vendor. Meanwhile, the guy himself probably doesn’t give half as much of a fuck about it as I do.
But really, I get inspired by anything that makes me feel something. It could be buying a pair of Salomons, or maybe I’m into some chick who’s an artist and her gallery opening is this weekend.
That’s why I’ve been dealing with this art block lately. Nothing particularly interesting or exciting has happened in my life for a while.
Hossein: Do you ever wish you’d been around for the first generation of Persian rap?
Mersad: Nah. I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Hossein: What do you think would’ve happened to you if you had?
Mersad: I probably would’ve disappeared off the face of the earth. Maybe I’d end up like Quf. I wouldn’t even mind doing the same thing. Just drop everything one day, completely vanish, and have everyone going, “Yoooo, where the fuck is Mersad?”
Then out of nowhere, a video pops up of me standing in some auto repair shop and some fucking idiot next to me is rapping and annoying the shit out of me. Like, bro, fuck off. I don’t even listen to rap anymore. (laughs)
That’s probably exactly how I’m gonna end up.
Hossein: What’s the biggest mistake you’ve made in your career?
Mersad: I’ve never really looked at it that way. I don’t think I’ve made that kind of mistake yet. If anything, my mistake has been being too fucking careful.
To be fair, that’s helped me in some ways too. But constantly watching every little thing I do has held me back. I don’t have that sense of freedom, and I don’t have that much faith in myself either, so I rarely give myself permission to just do whatever the fuck I want.
I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life that I deeply regret, and I still haven’t forgiven myself for them. But none of those have anything to do with music.
Hossein: What’s your relationship with your fans like?
Mersad: Amazing. Let me tell you a story. My number got leaked a while ago, so every now and then people call me. But not once has anyone been even slightly disrespectful. Like, nobody’s ever called me up and gone, “Yo, what’s up, baldy?”
Sometimes it’ll be some teenager calling, and somehow, instead of getting annoyed, we end up being all sweet to each other. Then I’ll give him this little uncle speech at the end, like, “Love you, man. You’re my heart. I appreciate you calling, but come on, kid. You can’t just call every random number you find online. I was literally writing new shit for you guys, and now you fucked up my concentration. You happy with yourself?” (laughs)
So yeah, even in a situation like that, there’s still this really cool, respectful relationship between us.
Hossein: What’s changed the most since things started taking off?
Mersad: I feel like I don’t need to prove myself or get everyone’s approval anymore. Getting this far was enough for my family, relatives, and friends to feel like, “Alright, Mersad’s at least on the right path.”
Hossein: Who do you think you’d sound really good with?
Mersad: Whoever I collab with, that shit’s gonna fuck.
But seriously, if the idea feels right and the chemistry is there, it’s gonna turn out cool no matter who it is. Upcoming artist, old-school artist. It doesn’t really matter to me.
I know musicians outside rap too, like Banoosh, or bands from completely different scenes like Tab Bazi. Those kinds of collaborations could be way more exciting than doing something everyone already expects.
That said, I think most Persian rap fans probably want to hear me with Hoodadk4.
Hossein: Could you ever see yourself getting into a beef?
Mersad: Nah. I have zero interest in that shit. I don’t mind a little shit-talking here and there, whether I’m doing it to someone or they’re doing it to me. But what beef has turned into in Persian rap right now is fucking disgusting.
Like I’ve told you before, my family follows my career. Even just by the standards I grew up with and the way my friends treat each other, that kind of behavior is complete bullshit. It really bothers me how easily people in Persian rap cross every fucking line, especially when they’ve sat at the same table, eaten together, and been close.
I want people to feel safe around me.
That’s why I don’t want to walk into a room and start censoring myself. If someone takes something I said in a private space, where I trusted them enough to be myself, and uses it against me, there’s not much I can do about it. They’re just a fucking asshole.
Hossein: Why do you think “Golo Tagarg” worked so well?
Mersad: I think it was because the story was real. Everything I talked about in that song actually happened to me. It happened years ago, but I’ve never really forgotten it.
So for me, the success of that song was never some formula I could just repeat. It really came down to honestly expressing what I was feeling at the time.
“Golo Tagarg” by Siavash Ghomayshi was one of her favorite songs. I was eighteen, and she was one of my first real experiences with love. The relationship didn’t even last a year, and it wasn’t exactly stable or perfect, but I was completely consumed by it. Looking back, I know the way I acted and the way I loved her wasn’t healthy. Maybe it was even obsessive.
Like I say in the song, I actually ripped down a street sign because it had her name on it. I parked my car next to it, climbed up, took the sign down, and gave it to her.
Hossein: Did that change how you are in relationships now?
Mersad: That whole experience kind of scared me. My feelings were so intense, and I’d poured everything I had into that person and that relationship. I think, without even realizing it, I slowly started putting my guard up with people.
That’s why I can’t let people get close to me that easily anymore. What scares me is seeing myself in that position again, where someone becomes that important to me and I love them with everything I have.
So now, even if I’m into someone and things start getting a little serious but eventually fall apart, it doesn’t fuck me up the way it used to. Maybe I’ll drop a little reference to it in a song somewhere, and that’s about it.
Hossein: Do you even know what your love language is anymore?
Mersad: I’ve completely forgotten it. You know how they say if you don’t use a language, you lose it? Yeah, that. (laughs)
Honestly, I have no fucking idea anymore. And the things I tried after that didn’t exactly go great either. So at this point, I feel like I’ve pretty much given up on relationships altogether.
Hossein: Do you at least know what your ideal partner would be like?
Mersad: I have no fucking idea. At this point, I don’t even have a type, because I don’t know who I am in a relationship anymore. I don’t know what I’m looking for, or even what a relationship is supposed to add to my life.
I’m kind of in a bad place with all of that right now. I mean, if I can’t even be that good to myself at this point in my life, I don’t feel like I have any business being in a relationship with someone else.
Hossein: Do you ever think about leaving Iran?
Mersad: Why would I leave? What exactly am I supposed to be running from? The issue is being Iranian, not Iran. Wherever the fuck you go in the world, you’re still Iranian.
I think moving abroad makes the most sense when you’re really young and your parents take you somewhere else. But once you’ve grown up here, made friends, and built all these memories, moving abroad can just give you a whole new set of problems.
Sure, your quality of life might be way better than it is in Iran. But over there, you don’t really have an identity.
Hossein: Okay, then flip it around. If you’d been born in the US, where do you realistically think you’d be right now?
Mersad: I’d be fucking killing it. And most importantly, I wouldn’t be doing military service right now. (laughs)
Things would be way easier. I wouldn’t constantly be worrying about whether I could even stay in this game.
Even if everything somehow went to shit and I had to quit music, by this point I would’ve already made some serious money, and I still don’t even consider myself that famous. At the very least, I could’ve kept living a decent life.
Hossein: Is there some big thing you still want out of all this?
Mersad: I’m not really in a place right now where I want to set some huge, impossible goal for myself. But there’s still a lot of shit I want to experience.
Besides performing live, what really excites me is becoming a multidisciplinary artist. Someone who raps, acts, and has his own approach to fashion too.
I guess more than anything, what I think about these days is making the world I’ve created bigger.
Hossein: What does fifty-year-old Mersad look like?
Mersad: Realistically? I don’t think I’m making it to fifty. I’ll probably die way before that. I really do feel that way. And with the headspace I’m in right now, I’d rather not live that long anyway. I don’t exactly enjoy life that much. (laughs)
But if I do make it there, I’d really love to have a family. Career-wise, in an ideal world, once I’m no longer in the spotlight, I’d want to have my own record label. That way I could help other artists and still have some kind of impact.
Hossein: So what keeps you going?
Mersad: I mean, what happens if I just do nothing?
I’m in a place mentally where, if I didn’t have that bond with my family, especially my mom and dad, or if I knew nobody was attached to me, I don’t think I’d have much of a reason to keep living.
You, so many of my friends, and my family have believed in me so deeply all these years. I’ve always wished I could feel even a little of the joy you guys seem to get from seeing me succeed. I wish I could feel that way about myself.
So I constantly have to remind myself, “No. You actually are fucking interesting. Keep doing this. Keep moving forward.”
Hossein: What would you tell a teenager who loves rap?
Mersad: Don’t listen to anybody. Just do your own shit. Do whatever you think is cool. Don’t give a fuck about how people react to it. Eventually, you’ll find your own way.
You’ll find all the keys you need, because those locks were made for you. Anyone who opened a door before you had different locks and different keys. So keep going. No matter how shitty you think your work is, don’t fucking quit.
If you love what you’re doing, protect that shit with everything you have. If there’s even a tiny bit of feeling left inside you, cherish it.
If you feel like absolute shit but you’re still not thinking about dying, then you’re doing okay. Just figure out why you’re okay and what you still feel like doing.
And if there’s something you genuinely want from the bottom of your heart, be grateful that you can still want something that badly, even if you never end up getting it.
Hossein: Any last words?
Mersad: I just wanna end this by giving a special shoutout to Arian Dousti, Reeve, SunLab Studio, and Pourya. None of this would’ve come together the way it did without them.