Armin Morshed Taps Into Tender Nostalgia on Soul-Stirring New Single, “I Think About Us Sometimes”

When it comes to music that leaves a lingering ache in your chest, few do it quite like Armin Morshed. The Iranian-born, Los Angeles-based composer, producer, and guitarist continues to prove why he’s one of the most captivating voices in the fusion scene with his latest single, “I Think About Us Sometimes.” Released as part of the Virtual Planet album, a cross-cultural jazz project featuring icons like Dave Weckl and John Patitucci, the song blends pop, rock, and jazz into a timeless soundscape soaked in memory and melancholy.

“I Think About Us Sometimes” is more than a song; it’s a moment. From the first soft strum to the soul-bearing guitar solo that closes the track, Morshed captures the fragile in-between: the space between holding on and letting go, between comfort and truth. Written and produced by Morshed himself, the single lives in emotional limbo, echoing the vulnerability of unresolved love.

“It’s not just a love song for me. It’s a confession. A storm. A question that doesn’t need to be answered, only understood.”

And that’s exactly what this track accomplishes. Set against warm, vintage textures and understated instrumentation, Morshed’s voice floats through the verses like a late-night thought you can’t quite shake. There’s restraint in the way he builds the track, no overproduction, no flashy crescendo, just pure, lived-in emotion. The title itself, “I Think About Us Sometimes,” feels like a whisper across time, the kind that resurfaces when you least expect it.

The final guitar solo speaks volumes without saying a word, expressing what Morshed describes as “the only answer I could offer to a situation like this.” It’s haunting, heartfelt, and open-ended, exactly the kind of emotional catharsis that jazz, at its best, can offer.

A former prodigy of the Tehran Conservatory and a Berklee College of Music Presidential Scholar, Morshed’s musical pedigree is impossible to ignore. But what sets him apart isn’t just his technical prowess; it’s his emotional intelligence. Whether writing for Persian pop stars or performing with Grammy-winning jazz legends, Armin approaches music as a conversation, one that values feeling over perfection.

This single marks another bold step in Morshed’s journey as an artist who resists genre boundaries. Raised on Persian music, educated in Western jazz, and now experimenting with English and Farsi songwriting, he’s building a bridge between cultures and emotional landscapes. And while “I Think About Us Sometimes” may center on romantic reflection, its message reaches further. Inspired by existential psychologist Irvin D. Yalom, Morshed urges listeners to embrace their loneliness, to see it not as a flaw but as a universal human experience. If Virtual Planet gave Morshed a platform to experiment, “I Think About Us Sometimes” gives him a spotlight, and he uses it to shine a light on the deepest parts of us.

Expect his upcoming independent album to build on this sonic and emotional maturity, as he prepares to merge the many worlds he inhabits: jazz, pop, Iranian roots, and raw human vulnerability. Until then, this track is more than enough to sit with, especially on the nights you’re not sure what’s next.

“I Think About Us Sometimes” feels deeply personal and emotionally raw. Was there a specific moment or experience that sparked the creation of this song? Yes. It started with the first time I fell in love. It was intense, messy, and honestly, very immature, and I didn’t know how to process any of it. I didn’t know how to act, how to communicate, or how to let go. But that confusion gave birth to something honest. The song isn’t just about the love itself; it’s about the emotional space around it, the tension between hope and heartbreak, where you're holding onto something that might already be slipping away. That feeling, the quiet limbo between staying and leaving, stuck with me. In real love, I think there's always that moment where you’re forced to make a hard choice. That pressure to either fight for it or walk away… It’s heavy. And that exact emotional weight is what the song lives in.

Your work blends jazz, pop, Persian music, and more. How do you approach merging these genres while staying true to your artistic identity? For me, it’s never been about sticking to a genre; it’s more about being honest in the process. I grew up listening to everything: jazz, pop, Persian classical music, blues, experimental... So when I write, all of those influences just show up naturally. Genres are labels, but music isn’t built that way. It's shaped by what you feel and what you've lived. I’m mostly rooted in jazz and blues as a player, but I also create Persian music because that’s a part of who I am, culturally and emotionally. I never want to lose that connection to my people or where I come from. My sound is just a reflection of all of it, the collision of the East and the West, the personal and the universal.

You mentioned the influence of Yalom’s Existential Psychotherapy on this release. How has philosophy or psychology shaped your songwriting over time? Tremendously. Philosophy and psychology are probably the biggest forces behind my songwriting. I’ve studied both formally and informally, through classes, therapy sessions, books, and every bit of it has helped shape not only how I write, but how I understand myself and others. To me, songwriting is storytelling. And when you’re exploring existential ideas like meaning, death, isolation, or freedom, the stories you tell become deeper. They move beyond surface emotions into something more universal. The more you understand yourself, the more honestly you can write, and the more others can see themselves in your work, too.

As someone who’s written and produced over 100 songs for other artists, how does writing for yourself differ, emotionally and creatively? Writing for myself gives me complete freedom. I don’t have to explain anything or meet anyone else's expectations. I can chase an idea that only makes sense to me, and that’s a rare kind of joy. But writing for others is just as meaningful, in a different way. There’s a beauty in collaboration, in letting go of your ego and meeting someone halfway to create something neither of you would’ve made alone. You learn a lot when you step outside of your own head and create in someone else’s universe. Both sides feed each other; my solo work benefits from the experiences I’ve had with other artists, and vice versa.

You’ve performed with legends and studied at some of the world’s top institutions. Looking ahead, what do you hope your upcoming album says about who you are, not just as a musician, but as a person? Honestly, I don’t want the album to be some grand statement. I see it more as a small collection of stories, little windows into moments I’ve lived, felt, or imagined.

I’m not trying to impress anyone or check any boxes. I just want to make something that feels sincere, something that people can sit with and find a piece of themselves in.

If the songs can make someone feel seen or help them pause for a moment in their own lives, then that’s enough. I think we all crave stories, ones that help us feel a little less alone, or just remind us of beauty, pain, endings, and beginnings. That’s what I’m chasing generally.