Whether inspiration stems from dreams or lived experience, an artist’s role is to transmute emotion, memory, and meaning into something audiences can see, hear, and absorb.
As Frida Kahlo once famously said, “I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” It’s a sentiment that rings loudly throughout the work of Zaidoon Nasir, the Aotearoa artist known creatively as WHO SHOT SCOTT.
Before becoming an artist, Nasir’s childhood was shaped by moving between Iraq, Moscow, and New Zealand; experiences that inevitably colored his worldview and later informed his artistry. Though he only spent less than a year in Moscow, growing up in New Zealand as an Iraqi immigrant left a lasting impact on his sense of identity and belonging.
As Nasir explains, “I always felt like I didn't quite belong. My culture at home was quite Arabic, but school was very ‘Kiwi’ coded and Westernized. Especially as a young teenager, it became this thing where I didn't feel Westernized enough in the New Zealand school system generally, but I also didn't feel Arabic enough at home. I was in this limbo, so to speak.”
That sense of displacement made it difficult for him to form connections, often leaving him isolated during his younger years. Yet within that solitude, Nasir found refuge in music and art.
“I spent a lot of time alone, but it was in that solitude that I found my love for music and art. I formed such a strong connection with the arts that I eventually felt a need to start interacting with them myself, and that’s when I started making music. It’s an interesting domino effect now that I look back.”
For Nasir, music quickly became the artistic medium he felt most drawn to exploring. “I think I was about eight years old when I first discovered I could record into my grandma’s old tape recorder she gave me,” he recalls. “It had this record function, and for some reason I just naturally felt inclined to record my voice.”
What began with recording poems slowly evolved into rapping as Nasir became increasingly immersed in hip-hop culture. Armed with an original PlayStation Portable loaded with hip-hop instrumentals, he built his own early recording setup. “I would literally hold the PSP up to the tape recorder, rap over the beat, and record it all as one take. Then I’d rewind the tape and listen back to my songs.”
Hearing himself played back left a lasting impression. “It honestly blew my mind that I could hear myself in that way. It felt like it was an actual record,” he says. Years later, that same excitement still fuels his creative process. “It’s funny because all these years later, I still get that exact same feeling when I finish a song and listen back to it. It’s the same spark my eight-year-old self had.”
Nasir’s debut album HAIRY acts as a reclamation of a period marked by bullying, isolation, and feelings of otherness. Rather than shy away from those experiences, the project confronts them head-on, transforming painful memories into something deeply personal and empowering.
“Turning pain into power has been a constant theme throughout the WHO SHOT SCOTT project,” Nasir explains. “Early on, I guess I was doing it intuitively – telling stories as they happened, but as I’ve realized the level of catharsis and purpose that it gives my art, I’ve started leaning into it with much more intent lately.”
What initially began as immediate emotional expression gradually evolved into revisiting formative years between the ages of 13 and 18. “I was bullied for a lot of things — rapping, my body hair during puberty, being Arabic — and I think that really shaped who I became and how I moved through the world afterward,” he says.
For Nasir, HAIRY became a reclamation of those experiences. “I figured if I’m going to turn pain into power, what better way than to take those vulnerable stories that hurt me and repurpose them into something I consider beautiful?” he reflects. “In an ironic, tongue-in-cheek way, it’s almost like the ultimate revenge.”
With Nasir’s lived experience of feeling unaccepted and channeling that into creativity, an interesting question emerges around how he separates the version of himself who lived through those moments from the version he is today, recounting them on HAIRY.
“Honestly, I think that time has been the biggest separator,” he explains. “As we grow up and go through different experiences, friendships, and relationships, it naturally matures us and provides a sense of detachment. Philosophically, I look back and see how that period trickled into the person I am now. I often weigh the ‘nature versus nurture’ of my own tendencies.”
He describes a dual awareness: distance from those years, yet continued emotional access to them. “I feel naturally separated from those years in a first-person sense, yet I’m still very much tapped into what that pain actually felt like. Using art to revisit it feels like a safe way to face those memories. I obviously don’t have to physically confront anything, but I get to go back ‘there’ within my own imagination and creativity.”
For Nasir, that process has become central to his healing. “Taking those experiences and turning them into something positive at the end of the day is a form of catharsis that is actively helping me heal, and I hope it might help someone else out there heal as well by hearing it. It’s ultimately become a very positive process, and that level of purpose is what’s been driving me lately in my art.”
Out of all the tracks on the LP, Nasir highlights “I’M YOUR ALIEN” as one of the most emotionally challenging. “It stems from a story I remembered from high school, where I invited two friends over to my house. I thought they were being sincere initially, but the whole time they were there, I could tell they were laughing at me behind my back, pointing out things about my Arabic household that were foreign to them and making fun of it. Later on, they told people at school about it, using it as fuel to keep the joke (being me) going. I hadn’t thought about that moment in years, but while I was writing the album, I realised it perfectly encapsulates that feeling of being "otherly" and feeling like an alien to the world, and when you're that age, high school is your ‘world’. The chorus repeats the line "I'm Your Alien," which to me represents full empowerment and reclamation. It’s about taking ownership of being different and accepting that those exact qualities are what make me an artist. It is a beautiful realization no doubt, but it’s exactly what made the song the most challenging to write and quite a bittersweet experience.”
Nasir is no stranger to honesty in his lyricism. He often speaks openly about therapy, anxiety, and learning to live alongside it, particularly in his track “Problems In My Head,” where the artist turns inward.
On how anxiety influences his creative process, Nasir says, “Funnily enough, I think that my anxiety is the exact reason I create art. The part of me that has the capacity to be anxious and fearful is the same function that feels things deeply and remains super sensitive to the world around me. They are truly two sides of the same coin. In a weird way, I guess I always have to be grateful for that side of myself, even as much as it can hurt sometimes. The yin and yang of it all is totally balanced at the end of the day. If dealing with anxiety is the price of creating art that is honest and getting to share that with the world, then, to tell you the truth, that’s a very fair trade-off for me.”
Through this lens, anxiety is not positioned as something separate from his artistry, but something that actively informs it, shaping both the emotional depth and honesty of his work.
Diving into his creative process, Nasir describes it as “super intuitive,” often starting with a basic drum groove, a bassline, or a synth idea to spark inspiration.
“Pretty early on, I’ll record a ‘scat’ vocal take, which usually dictates the colour and initial direction of the idea. I create dozens of little sketches like that over several months until I’ll have around a hundred ideas or so. Some will only be 30 seconds long, while others could be fully fleshed-out arrangements. There is no early judgement in this stage, only capturing the information as it arrives and documenting as much of it as I can.”
He frames this stage as pure capture rather than evaluation, allowing instinct to lead.
“Once I feel I have enough seeds of ideas to work with, I’ll move into the next phase. I pick the ones that excite me most and start building the world around them, diving deeper into the story and layering the production and instrumentation. Again, with no attachment or preconceived notions, just fully letting the ideas tell me what they want to be and acting in service of them.”
Nasir emphasizes that this openness is intentional, protecting the earliest stage of creativity.
“All in all, the majority of the process is pure and under-intellectualized and I guard that energy very strongly. There’s always a time and place later where things get more tangible, usually when it comes to the absolute final touches, but that really only happens in the last 10% or so. The majority of the process is the most beautiful, childlike play which I am so grateful and honoured to partake in.”
Now that the album is released, Nasir reflects on the version of himself most present in the work. He describes it as “the young and beautifully naive version of myself, the one that hadn’t yet been exposed to the reality of a world outside of high school yet. At the time, a part of me believed that this was simply how life was always going to be. For that reason, a lot of the stories perhaps feel a bit hopeless, because that kid was kind of hopeless. He didn’t realize how much better things would get once high school ended. That being said, I can’t deny that I’ve now grown up and that writing these songs retrospectively naturally colours the expression through that lens too.”
Nasir frames the album as a dialogue across time.
“In many ways, this album feels like a conversation between my teenage self and my current self. The former being incredibly insecure, scared and anxious about everything that was happening, while the latter is saying, ‘No, believe me – these things are your superpower! Everything hurting you right now is essential character building, and you will be thankful for it.’ Ultimately, this project is a true dialogue between those two versions of me: past and present.”
Having dealt with such adversity, it’s natural to wonder what wisdom Nasir can impart to others experiencing bullying in the present. While he is cautious about positioning himself as an authority on the subject, he reflects with sincerity.
“I’ll speak sincerely from my own experience here. I feel strongly that high school was such a temporary thing. While those experiences can be super gnarly, and believe me, I know how much of a hit to the confidence they can be… they are often seriously character-building that could actually be flipped into something positive in the future. I hope that by telling my story through music, it can be just one example for someone going through that at least.”
He adds a final note of guidance.
“The real answer underneath all of this, though, is that if anyone is facing bullying, they should find help. If you’re in a place lucky enough to have these kinds of resources and people who take it seriously, I’d highly advise seeking out some kind of counsel. Keep your head held high. There is more love than hate in the world, and believe that with time, things really do get better.”
HAIRY is out now, acting as a sonic reminder that difficult moments are temporary and change is always possible.
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