At only twenty-two, Perry Maysun stands as one of the most compelling voices of his generation — a musician, painter, and poet whose work feels both deeply personal and universally human. Over the past three years, he’s released sixteen albums, each one a diary of emotion, pain, and transformation. His art blurs the line between sound and soul, between expression and survival.
After surviving cancer, Perry emerged not just as an artist but as a testament to resilience, channeling everything he’s endured into his music, his canvases, and his words. What follows is an honest conversation about creation, vulnerability, and what it truly means to live with purpose.
Tell me about yourself. What are some things you like to do, hobbies, places you like to eat at, places you like to visit?
Perry Maysun: I'm Perry Maysun. I'm 22 years old. I love to make music, paint, draw, and write poetry. My hobbies—I love to walk, ironically. I love to go to the movies. That’s my favorite place to visit: AMC in my neighborhood. I’ll sit there with a notebook, listen to the movie, and write the whole time. I love to write in movies.
“I love to sit in the dark with a notebook, listen to the movie, and write the whole time.”
What is a hidden secret about Perry Maysun?
I played AAU basketball, which if you’re not from the U.S., is like high-level youth basketball. But I didn’t play any minutes. I think the coach just liked me. I loved it so much—it was my favorite thing in the entire world. But I was too small and hit puberty late. I guess I was just bad, but I was obsessed with basketball. That was my first love.
What is the one thing you need in the studio and why?
I always need my leather notebooks—or any notebooks. Even if I’m not writing in them, just having them there feels symbolic. I write about 90% of my verses in notebooks. Writing with pen makes things feel final and intentional. You can’t just delete or backspace—you have to think before you put something down. Paper is permanent. It makes you more conscious of what you’re writing. The words matter more when you write on paper.
“Paper is final — the words matter more when you write on paper.”
What was your childhood like? Did you have some hobbies you engaged in?
I was a try-it-all kind of kid. Sports, art, anything. I just kept trying things until something resonated with me. I played basketball, wanted to be a graffiti artist—I even had a notebook full of graffiti drawings. I wanted a skateboard company. I wanted to do everything under the sun. Eventually, music just called me. It sounds corny, but I think I always knew that’s what I was meant to do. Music and art were always the ones.
What musical inspirations did you have growing up and what did they mean to you?
Wiz Khalifa, Childish Gambino, Tyler, The Creator, Earl Sweatshirt, Lil Wayne, Drake, Adele, Elton John, Steely Dan, Wale, A$AP Rocky, Big Sean, Chiddy Bang, Kanye, Chance the Rapper, Odd Future, Frank Ocean—basically the whole blog era of hip-hop. Danny Brown too. Those artists showed me you can be whoever you want to be. They were like the punk rockers of our generation—very raw and expressive. That taught me about freedom and pure expressionism.
“Those artists were the punk rockers of our generation — they taught me that freedom is expression.”
When did you first discover your love for art, music, and poetry?
If I put it in order, it’s music first, then art, then poetry. My brother put music on my iPod when I was like 7 or 8. I had stuff I shouldn’t have been listening to—Odd Future mixtapes, Lil Wayne, Lonely Island, Kanye, Kid Cudi. I was a lonely kid and music was my guide. The first time I put on headphones, I fell in love.
Art came in elementary school. I got into graffiti culture—creating tags and learning the art form behind it. Poetry came later, when I was around 18. I realized rap is poetry, but when I started writing poems without music, that’s when I really got into it. I felt like every song deserved a poem.
How did music shape your childhood?
Music was like a soundtrack to my life. It kept me company during dark times. I can’t understand people who say they didn’t listen to music as kids—it’s like, how? Music was like an extra parent or best friend. I always had it.
When did you decide to start making music? What did your first song sound like and what genre was it?
My first song was a rap song I made with my brother Reese. He was already making music, and I wanted to be like him. We made a trap-style song—kind of like 2 Chainz. I was 12 or 13, and it was cool. Before that, I made a song on my iPad with friends, but it didn’t sound professional, so I didn’t count it. I went by the name Kehuddy, because why not?
What inspired you to make music?
Honestly, just what music did for me. Artists like Cudi and Tyler were there for me in ways people couldn’t be. I wanted to be that for others. That’s why I started—to give back the same feeling I got from them.
When did you figure out that you were a lyricist?
I was making music under the name Young Juice from like 15 to 18. I was having fun, but it wasn’t serious. Once I changed my name, I promised myself to make what I wanted to hear, not what I thought others wanted. That’s when I realized I could actually write and convey emotions clearly. That’s when I became a lyricist.
You’ve released 16 albums in three years. How did you stay that consistent?
Honestly, fear. Fear of regret and fear of not executing every idea I have. I don’t want to die with songs left inside me. I drop what I feel and move on. People say I release too much, but I think I release what I need to. I just want to use my time while I’m alive to express myself completely.
“Fear of regret keeps me consistent — I drop what I feel because I know I won’t be here forever.”
Are your albums based on personal experiences or are they metaphorical?
Both. They all come from personal things, but sometimes I wrap them in metaphors. My albums are like books—each one a chapter of my life. I’m not an author of books, I’m an author of albums. That’s my tangible proof that I was here.
You went through something very difficult—cancer. When were you diagnosed, and how did it make you feel being so young?
I got diagnosed about a year and a half ago. It made me realize how fragile life is. I used to move like I was invincible, but I’m not. It showed me how destructible I really am.
Did this affect the way you perceive life?
Definitely. It made me more aware and empathetic toward people with disabilities or health conditions. We take simple things like walking or seeing for granted. When I have money, I want to help fund research and charities for people who are impaired. It’s sad it took losing mobility for me to see that, but it opened my eyes.
Did going through cancer teach you things you didn’t know about yourself?
Yeah. It taught me how strong I really am. When I’m going through something now, I remind myself that if I could handle cancer, I can handle anything. Being in a hospital bed for eight months—nothing compares to that. It proved I’m strong.
“If I could handle cancer, I can handle anything.”
How was your relationship with music after being diagnosed?
Stronger than ever. Music became my refuge. It guided me, kept me hopeful, and gave me purpose. Music was my best friend through it all.
Could you describe what your album covers were meant to convey?
Naked was about vulnerability. I had just shaved my head from chemo and used crutches. It’s the rawest I’ve ever been.
Avoid Second Death was my first week of chemo. My hair fell out completely. The photo shows me feeding ducks by the water—it was a small peaceful moment during chaos.
Reverie Five came months into chemo. My eyebrows were growing back. I drew myself as I was—symmetrical, raw, emotional.
Yesterday’s Light was taken before chemo began, while I was in pain but still creating. It represents nostalgia for that time right before treatment, even though it hurt.
Roll With The Punches was taken after an eight-hour surgery where half my leg was removed. I told my mom to take that photo. It’s a moment you can’t recreate. It’s survival.
Explain the meaning of “Joel” and the creative process behind it.
It was pure emotion—raw and unfiltered. It came out in a flow state. I don’t explain the meaning because I want people to interpret it how they feel. It’s one of my most important songs.
Your music is experimental for hip-hop. Do you plan to continue that sound you introduced with “Joel”?
Maybe. I go with the flow. If I want to make more house or trip-hop inspired stuff, I will. I love experimenting—it’s fun.
How did it feel when you were in remission?
It felt like the beginning, not the end. Beating cancer made me realize there’s still more to do. I felt relieved, but focused.
You hosted an art gallery recently. Has painting always been a part of your life?
Painting became big for me in the last four years. It was something I did just for me. While I was sick, I painted about 60 pieces. I told my manager, Josh, I needed to do a gallery. We did it, and it became one of the highlights of my life—sharing art with my community and everyone who supported me.
“Painting became therapy — and sharing it with the community was one of the best nights of my life.”
Your album “TELL ME I’M PRETTY” was one of your best yet. What does it mean to you?
It was my first project after getting better. It’s about the human desire to feel beautiful. When I was sick, I felt like an alien—hooked to machines, losing weight, losing hair. I just wanted to feel pretty again, like anyone would.
You posted about going bald again by choice. Why was that moment important?
When I shaved my head the first time, I did it because I knew chemo would take it anyway. This time, I did it on my own terms. It felt powerful—taking control back. Doing it knowing it would grow back felt freeing.
Who are some artists you want to work with?
Childish Gambino, Little Simz, Sampha, Gene Dawson, and Kara Jackson. Also, Sade, Elton John, NoName, Kid Cudi, Mike, and Adele.
What’s next for Perry Maysun?
Just to keep going. I have a plan for 2025, and I want to execute it fully. I’m not saying what it is yet, but it’s coming.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
Hopefully happy. I want to make movies, direct, release albums with films, paint hundreds of paintings—just create until I can’t anymore. I want full creative freedom.
What’s something you want to accomplish by the end of 2025?
To fulfill my 2025 plan—the one I promised myself I’d complete if I made it this far. This year wasn’t guaranteed, so I want to make the most of it.
“I want to create until my hands fall off and my brain short-circuits.”
Could you share some motivational words or a quote for readers?
Do what you love. You’re going to die one day, and a hundred years after, everyone you know will be gone too. So nothing really matters except right now. Fulfill yourself and don’t worry about anything else.
“Do what you love — nothing really matters except right now.”
Photography By Hellen Elizondo