Mehro Finds New Ways to Connect

In the amber glow of Los Angeles’s late afternoon light, mehro speaks with a soft, thoughtful cadence. The singer-songwriter and social media favorite, whose latest album Trauma Lullabies has been quietly stirring hearts and minds since its release last May, navigates their artistry with an inclination towards introspection and universality. Wistful, melancholic, and unexpected—these are the words mehro (who is pronoun-indifferent and stylizes their name in lowercase) chooses to describe Trauma Lullabies, a work that feels both intensely personal and broadly resonant.

A vanguard of a new wave of beachy, brooding heartthrob singer-songwriters, mehro has amassed an ardent global fanbase since bursting into view with their 2021 single “perfume.” Leading the rollout of their debut album Sky on Fire, the single and its sibling on the record “chance with you” achieved near-instant virality (the latter has soundtracked over seventeen thousand videos on TikTok). Before long, the 25-year-old commanded an impressive following of a million viewers on Instagram and TikTok combined; their Spotify draws in more than two million listeners per month. Numbers aside, they remain steadfast in their commitment to their art. “I’m not interested in that type of fame,” mehro maintains. “It’s a byproduct of doing something great. I would be blessed to be famous, but I want to be known for my work.” Remaining laser-focused on their music, they have maintained a consistent release schedule and embarked on a sold-out 2024 tour of North America and Europe.

Coming after their sophomore album Dark Corners and Alchemy, mehro's new record reflects a maturation in both sound and thematic cohesion. While their first two projects were mosaics, containing largely standalone tracks, Trauma Lullabies unfolds more as a cohesive narrative—each track an installment of an expanded emotional odyssey. “It revealed itself to me,” mehro declares, leaning into serendipity. “I let these songs unfold into what they were meant to be. It’s like watching a kid grow up—they have a genetic starting point, a composition to their nature, but life leads them to becoming what they are.”

As they move on from Trauma Lullabies, mehro’s artistry continues to evolve in unpredictable directions. Their late 2024 single, “Lady Parts and Mannequins,” was a departure from their earlier, softer sound, pulsing with raw energy and a gritty, unapologetic edge. “It just happened,” mehro shrugs when asked about the song's origin. Written in 2023 and road-tested during their Reason to Live tour, the song elicited a visceral response from audiences across continents. “Minneapolis, the first time we played it—the crowd just started screaming, primal screams,” they recall. “And it wasn’t just there. Every city, America and Europe, reacted the same way.” It’s no surprise, given the track’s opening shout: ”Sometimes I wish I was a sex doll/We fucked so much that we can’t be friends.” Dripping with lust and forcefully propelled by a cranked-up electric guitar, “Lady Parts and Mannequins” dropped in October to a fervent response from fans. The single is something of an example of what’s to come. “I’ve written a few songs that seem like they are going to be the next releases that are under this thing,” mehro suggests. “This is an avenue I definitely enjoy writing and expressing, we’ll see just how deep and how far it goes. I’m riding the wave, surfing the music.”

Matching the intensely horny, borderline-grating soundscape is an equally confrontational and avant garde video compiling existing footage by artist Diane Lindo. Captivated by her gory artistic style, mehro worked to get Lindo on board for a collaboration. The footage (edited together by mehro themself) is bloody, sexy, and at times nonsensical. “A pickle comes out of a banana. How did she do this?” mehro ponders over lunch in Manhattan Beach, a short walk from where they grew up. “A woman gives birth to a gray ball. The gray ball becomes a baby. The baby becomes a feral-looking guy and then a skull. I’m so sorry, you’re eating!” they laugh sincerely, before falling into a more earnest tone. “It’s probably my favorite part of the whole video. Aren’t we all a mutating baby?”

In the same spirit, their sound continues to mutate. Earlier this month, mehro dropped a surprise Valentine’s Day single, “You’re So Pretty.” A slight return to the form of their first two albums, the song synthesizes the driving tempo and boisterous vocals of “Lady Parts and Mannequins” on top of a strumming acoustic guitar—until the final sixty seconds. At that point, the drumset kicks into a blast beat and an electronic guitar ruptures the soundscape into a full-on, punk-fueled anthem of admiration. Simultaneously adoring and clamoring, listening to the track reminds me of a quip mehro threw out in our conversation: “I want the kind of crowd that can be really kind, or just fucking mosh.” That marriage of contrasting energies clearly seems to be where mehro finds artistic bliss.

A recurring theme in our conversation is mehro’s pursuit of the “universal”—that intrinsic, cross-cultural connection music can create—and the many ways it may manifest. “I think when somebody’s able to tap into universal truth, it’s quite inspiring. Old stories do that well,” they assert. “Mythology taps into it. It may seem silly now, or strange, but mythology tackles primal experiences and tries to make sense of them, and then we build on that thought. That’s why it feels so timeless.” That universal condition, mehro posits, is uniquely tied to music. “Certain songs make us cry, and it doesn’t matter who wrote them or where they were written,” they say. “It doesn’t matter what the cultural difference is, what biology, a person’s pigment, the size of [their] ankles—there’s a connection.” This pursuit shapes their songwriting, where they seek to tap into emotions that transcend personal and cultural boundaries. Tracks like “ketamine” and “dopamine,” with their traipsing allusions to cross-cultural phenomena—astral bodies, pollination, sunshine, water, fires, chemical escapes—seek to alchemize personal specificities into a sensory experience listeners can soak in reflectively.

Mehro’s philosophical inclination towards connection is not restricted to their process of musicianship. Their live performances are intimate, almost ritualistic experiences. Before each show, they lead the audience in breathing exercises, cultivating a shared presence. This practice isn’t just a gimmick. “We’re all going to be breathing together anyway,” they say with a smile. “We might as well be connected. I’ve had people tell me they met their best friends at my shows,” they share. “It’s the best, it has nothing to do with me!”

Despite their growing popularity, mehro remains grounded, mindful of the pressures that come with increasing recognition. “I’ve never wanted to sell anyone something false,” they say. “I’m not pretending to be a nice person all the time. I can be a real piece of shit, and I want people to know that. I’m not a sonic perfume; the wolf is there, it’s just disguised.” Authenticity isn’t just a buzzword, it’s a guiding principle—and fans have noticed. Mehro’s digital following continues to mount as their discography grows, and they are all too familiar with the nature of the social beast. “It’s a necessary evil,” they proclaim. “I think what social media has done to people is unfortunate. The gatekeepers are now the platforms themselves—the algorithm decides who is hot, is in the club.” They are also keenly aware of the benefits social platforms impart on their career. “At the same time, it’s wonderful because more people know about you, and you are able to communicate with people that need it. Ironically, the meanest people are probably the ones that need connection most.”

Already with several tours under their belt, another spree of travel is imminent this spring. In late March, mehro kicks off a month-long stint opening for fellow SoCal act Half Alive near home turf at the House of Blues San Diego. In the chaos and itinerance of tour, mehro has found solace in routine practices like journaling and transcendental meditation. “I journal before I go to sleep, before I enter that other dimensional space,” they pause for brief reflection. “Meditating in the morning, throughout the day, whenever it’s possible. It makes you very present, like ‘I’m fucking in this right now.’”

Our conversation begins to wind down and the tone shifts to a blend of gratitude and anticipation in light of their upcoming supporting performances. “A particularly special kind of person [comes] to my shows. People are very kind, very centered. I’m lucky enough to get the best out of people. They’re waiting three hours to talk to me after a show!” they marvel with a grin. On the topic of new music, mehro adopts a coy (yet unabashedly confident) posture. “I’m pregnant,” they smirk. “Music is about to come out of me.”

“Lady Parts and Mannequins” is out now. Mehro begins their next North American tour on March 28 at House of Blues San Diego.