“I count in Swedish; I write, speak, and dream in English; and I feel in Farsi”: Snoh Aalegra on only feeling at home on stage

Snoh Aalegra enters the studio cool and calm – almost icy. Prior to last spring I had never heard of her; she was brought to my attention via Instagram, where she has over a million followers. What I feared might be just an “influencer musician” turned out to be an artist's artist.

Her music has a soul and R&B sound that often attracts comparison to the legendary Sade. She writes moody albums about failed loves and dives deep into complicated emotions, backed by sensuous sonic landscapes.

We meet on the day of the release of her single Lost You in a building in Los Angeles that was once home to both Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe and is now a music studio. There, Aalegra tells me about her journey so far. Born to Iraninan parents in the Swedish county of Uppsala, she started her musical career at the age of 13. Within a decade she had moved to LA, to pursue her dreams of “making it.” Not that she’s comfortable admitting such ambitions.

“You know the vibe, Jantelagen and all that,” she says, referring to the Swedish notion that looks down on bragging or bold aspirations, instead encouraging equality and humility – arguably the opposite of the American Dream. “I knew I had to seek myself over here one day. America is where soul and R&B are rooted,” she continues. “I wanted to be as good as I could be in what I do. I always drive to be better. I am forever a student.”

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In America, there is no such thing as an idea that is too crazy, she says. When compared to Scandinavia, where she was always told to stop dreaming, it feels like she has found her spiritual home. Yet, she still feels a strong connection to her roots, even if they’re spread out. “I grew up in an Iranian household, with a lot of flavours, smells, and colour – a lot of passion,” says Aalegra, whose given name is Sheri Nowrozi. “But I love ‘less is more,’ the Swedish way.” She has had a multicultural upbringing (“I count in Swedish; I write, speak, and dream in English; and I feel in Farsi”) but describes her childhood as lonely, dominated by a feeling of not knowing where home was. The only place she felt comfortable, she says, was on stage. “I’ve always felt very welcome there. But my sense of home has always been very shattered.”

Scandinavia doesn’t have the long history of migration that has shaped the culture of the UK or the US. The first major migration into Sweden only took place a generation or two ago, with the younger generations helping to shape Scandinavian society and culture with new art, music, cuisines and lifestyles. The region still has a way to go with diversity and integration far less common than elsewhere in Europe. And with the populist shift to the right in politics, progress is slower than it should be.

Growing up in Sweden, Aalegra says, “you’re always seen as an immigrant. It doesn’t matter if you’re born there, people look at me like I’m an immigrant. I’ve experienced the good and the bad in Sweden. I’ve experienced a lot of racism, people telling me to go back to the country that I’m from – but I’m from Enköping.” She looks me in the eye as she tells me it’s up to all of us to take personal accountability. “You have to be aware and take responsibility, and be a human being. It all starts with the man in the mirror – for everybody,” she says.

Aalegra channels a lot of those feelings of loneliness into her music. “You have to relive the emotions every time you sing them live. I go really deep with emotions,” she says. “When I sing, I feel everything. It’s really therapeutic – to get things out and then move on.”

Her latest album, Temporary Highs in the Violet Skies, reflects the duality between Scandinavian melancholy and the bright lights of Los Angeles. The story of a young artist, an “outsider,” struggling to make it in the city is far from a new one, but Aalegra’s lyrics are infused with enough raw emotion and honesty to make it feel fresh. “I’m talking about the state I’m in right now,” she says. “Reflecting on missing my family. Missing out on so much time with them, trying to pursue this thing I want to do. Thinking and reflecting on whether it’s worth it.”

In this new world, where recognition and millions of Instagram followers is considered success in its own right, yet so many suffer from the social and economic impact of a global pandemic, complaining about the difficulties of life from the comfort of a recording studio in LA – or daring to question whether such fame is worth it – could come off as tone-deaf. But Aalegra has suffered for her art, and seems acutely aware of the Faustian pact that comes with being in the limelight. “I love it and I hate it,” she says, of Instagram and followers in particular.

“It’s very toxic and it has become a place for people to sit and bully other people. It’s a very sensitive topic for me. I was bullied as a kid in school and even seeing it happening to other people...”

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Aalegra says she keeps a distance from social media and doesn't look at it much anymore. Earlier this year she took a six-month hiatus from Instagram, turning away from the shared space after reflecting on the fact that she was always obtainable. Considering so much of her audience lives and breathes the social media platform, it was a brave move. However, a social media break is becoming the new marketing strategy to build anticipation before the release of a new project, in the hopes that the viral effect of a surprise return will help boost awareness. Aalegra revived her Instagram on June 6th, with a teaser trailer for her album accompanied by the song ‘Indecisive.’ The next day, the cover art for the album was revealed.

Throughout our conversation, the buzzing of Aalegra’s phone echoes through the room, reaching the skylight and merging with the distant honks and murmur of the busy LA roads. It keeps ringing until she finally turns it off.

The man in the mirror concept she mentioned previously leads us to talk about the self-obsessive nature of a life with social media. This past year, it is the space in which many of us have inhabited the most. We have laughed and cried; celebrated birthdays, holidays, and even the inauguration of a new president there. Now that so many aspects of our lives are experienced remotely, we are more reliant on our phones than ever before.

Taking time off from the virtual world does not mean that Aalegra did not share in these experiences, but she did shut off from the hyper-focus on one’s self-image and the constant feed of information from other people and their lives. Needless to say, we live in an exhausting digital world.

Aalegra ends our chat by turning on her phone, her piercing brown eyes looking out at me above her black face mask. It seems she’s succumbed once more to the power of social media and our phones’ ability to keep us constantly obtainable. Then, with a smile in her voice, she utters a statement telling of our times: “It’s fucking annoying. I need to change my number.”

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