Sarah Khatami’s “Play House” grieves a future that one person was ready to build and the other no longer wants. September brings the first admission that faith in a shared future was misplaced, while the memory of a May weekend offers something more tangible: Coltrane playing, barberry rice, cookies with dates. The relationship has ended, but its smallest details still belong to the speaker.
“I would rather play house together / Than be a stranger” is a plea to keep the intimacy even when the commitment has gone. She knows the other person no longer wants the same things, yet cannot imagine meeting them in public and exchanging small talk as if their history meant nothing. The line about being spared the flattery cuts through the memory of a promise that the other person once could not imagine life without them.
Khatami’s home is not a place the couple can return to. It is a future assembled from meals, music, touch, and the knowledge of another person’s weak spots. By the final lines, the plea has narrowed to a request not to become strangers. The house remains imaginary, but someone is still asking to be let in.
For those who might not know you yet, how would you introduce yourself?
I’m a singer/songwriter based in Brooklyn, and I make music that ranges from R&B, jazz, and pop, to traditional Persian music.
If you had to bottle up your sound into just three words, which ones would you choose?
Soulful, Introspective, Dynamic.
Which artists (not only music-related) or moments have left the biggest mark on your music?
My dad — he is a poet and one of my biggest inspirations. Farhad Mehrad — he is an Iranian singer/songwriter known for his political music prior to the 1979 revolution. He taught me that music is inherently a radical and political act, and is one of the main reasons I try to incorporate those themes in my own music. Hayao Miyazaki — I grew up with Studio Ghibli, and have always been in awe of their beautiful illustrations and the sense of wonderment their stories fill you with. I hope to evoke similar feelings with my music.
When you hit play on your songs, what kind of feeling takes over?
There are so many feelings that come up. Sometimes it’s a sense of accomplishment and pride. Sometimes there’s a bit of self-criticism, which I think is normal. And sometimes there’s this bittersweet sense of loss that comes with putting music out into the world, making it public. It’s like this thing that used to only be mine is now anyone’s, which is both scary and exciting.
If you could team up with anyone in the world, no limits, who would be that dream collaborator?
So many different people. Hope Tala, Raveena, and Lianne La Havas for sure. Jill Scott would also be a huge dream.
What are you working on now, and what are your plans for the future? Anything exciting you can tell us about?
Yeah, I’m currently working on an EP called “Shaydaayi” (“شیدایی”), which will be a collection of five of my dad’s original Persian poems reimagined as songs. I’m really excited about it because it’ll be my first fully Persian project, and more than anything, I’m excited for people to hear my dad’s words. It’s an honor to be able to showcase his writing in this way.
Can you walk us through the story or emotion behind “Play House”? If you can, tell us about the storytelling of the video and the visual approach to it.
Yes, so essentially “Play House” is a story about unrequited love. One person yearns for a life of simple domesticity with a person who doesn’t share the same desire. The lyrical and visual references to tahchin (a Persian barberry rice dish), rose tea, and mundane tasks, like cooking and laundry, are all a part of the one-sided cozy fantasy. As the song progresses, though, there’s a slow realization that this perfect life is unattainable for many different reasons, which is what prompts me to unravel near the end of the video. This music video was a gigantic labor of love for me and my director, Layla Soboh. Layla was the mastermind behind the aesthetics, concept, and overall style of the video. And I built the miniature sets myself using shoeboxes, polymer clay, and the library printer. Together, I think we really captured that sense of quiet hysteria.
