Will I make it out of this alive?
Is it me or am I still paranoid?
Am I still paranoid?
Sehseiyah (FKA The Bedroom Witch) rips through expectations with 620, a four-track eruption of obsession, ritual, and raw transformation. The Los Angeles-based avant-industrial pop artist Sepehr Mashiahof channels psychosexual fervor into an EP bristling with urgency; seething with longing.
Synths roar and convulse, surging beneath her voice as it floods the space, thick with anguish, unshaken in its power. Each track moves like a stormfront: slow-building tension, sudden release, wreckage left in its wake. Beats churn, melodies coil, and the weight of desire presses against the skin. 620 strips away pretense and plunges into something untamed. Sehseiyah moves through the wreckage, feet firm, breath steady, heart aflame. The industrial undercurrent thrashes, the pop structures glisten like shattered glass, and the pulse of the music never wavers. A siren’s call drifts from the chaos, carrying the listener deeper toward something electric; something primal.
Ominous choral samples wail like distant sirens before basslines strike, relentless and unyielding as Paranoid thrashes forward, a fevered march through the final moments of a psychological unraveling. Lyrics coil tight around obsession, doubt creeping through every breath. Voices murmur from the corners, memories loom like specters. Love stands firm, a force both binding and breaking, twisting between devotion and destruction. The question remains: is escape possible, or is fear another kind of cage?
Watch the video for “Paranoid” below:
Cross My Heart glides in with arpeggios like wind through shattered glass, delicate yet full of ache. The melody flutters, heavy with longing, the weight of love pressing down like an unspoken vow. Truth cuts as deeply as deception, and time moves like a slow-turning blade. Roses bloom, fragile and fleeting, as devotion and doubt blur together. Pain lingers, but so does love: a last light in the haze, flickering, flickering, refusing to fade.
Out of Body plunges headfirst into a mechanical abyss, where Sehseiyah twists the blade of her own torment, feeding on pain like a fire desperate for fuel. Possession tightens its grip, dependency coils tighter, and love contorts into something raw and ravenous. The self dissolves, swallowed by another, blurred at the edges, lost in the tangle of obsession and control. Loneliness claws at the door, but even isolation seems safer than the waking nightmare of devotion turned to captivity. The refrain pounds like a relentless drumbeat, a cycle closing in, an echo that never dies.
Raising Hell erupts, a final exorcism, a last gasp of defiance before the knife at her throat becomes her own. The voice wails, the mind fractures, the body shakes between rage and restraint. The house is crumbling, the walls cracking, and in the wreckage, there is freedom. Destruction becomes deliverance, the wreckage a refuge, the chaos the only path forward.
With this stunning EP, Sehseiyah walks the tightrope of self-examination, teetering between destruction and rebirth, each lyric a mirror held too close, each note a wound split open. Vulnerability thrashes against the need for control, a battle fought in whispers and wails, in the spaces between devotion and delirium. This chapter is no static reflection: it is a storm, tearing through the old to make room for something unbound. Pain and beauty collide, art is fractured and reborn, and the metamorphosis continues.
“As I grow older, I find that I’m becoming less present in the moment,” Mashiahof explains. “My worries of harming and being harmed are clouding my ability to truly feel connected to those I trust with my life.”
Listen to the 620 EP below:
620 marks a threshold, a crossing from one identity to the next, a name shed like old skin. Sehseiyah rises from the decade-long presence of The Bedroom Witch, a transformation announced in June 2024. For years, Mashiahof built a world of ethereal tension and EBM-laced electricity, self-producing her first LP in 2014 and expanding that vision across four more albums and four EPs.
Two years after releasing A Place of Hurt, she let the past rest. The Bedroom Witch belonged to a younger self, an identity once charged with purpose but now tethered to another lifetime.
“The Bedroom Witch started in my teens,” she explains. “For years, the initial meaning and intention behind that name energized my creative process. As time went on that moniker seemed to serve another lifetime; a past version of myself that I’ve since come to no longer resonate with. Sehseiyah is an abstraction of my first and last name blended together, an amalgamation of letters that read like the name of an angel. Sehseiyah makes me feel that I’ve ascended as myself.”
620 is entirely her own creation: written, recorded, and produced with a singular vision, then mixed and mastered by Angel Marcloid (Angel Hair Audio). Each note, each breath, a step further into this next incarnation.
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