Persona Non Grata: The Gen-Z Superhero Who’s Reimagining the Blues
by charlotte hass
If you couldn’t tell by his stage name, Persona Non Grata stands out—and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The phrase literally translates to, “an unacceptable or unwelcome person,” though for this talented young performer, I find “distinctive” to be a more accurate reading. Often found wearing a superhero’s cape and mask (a white number with an orange bird’s beak on the end) during performances—though I cannot prove he doesn’t don them in his free time—and inventing whimsical adlibs between songs, his goal is to get you to pay attention. And, though there are seemingly millions of independent artists vying for their fifteen minutes, this is one artist I urge you to give the time of day. Recently, I had the pleasure of seeing one of his shows and sat down to ask a few questions about who he is as a creative. And, perhaps more strikingly, who he’d like to be.
Though his alias rolls off the tongue, friends of Persona Non Grata know him as Finn. I’d
argue Finn’s persona is unmistakable, but he tells me he doesn’t really know what his image is. And that
makes sense. A teenager in his senior year in high school, Finn doesn’t yet know if he’s going to
college, let alone what defines him as a performer and songwriter. “I guess I’ve had my bird mask,
along with other animal masks, since I was two. I also just have insane aura sometimes when I’m not
being socially awkward. And I’m beautiful, and I love myself.”
Though I’m sure he didn’t mean for me to look this deeply into his replies, I think Finn’s tongue-in-cheek answers speak to the future of Gen-Z artistry: unabashed, eccentric, a little unserious, and above all, unapologetically himself. Of his origin story—every good superhero has one—Finn tells me, “My mission is to make lots and lots of friends who love me. I started when I was four years old on a First Act mini drum kit and Casio CTK-720 electronic keyboard.” He’s come a long way from his humble beginnings. In September of 2024, he released his EP, SUPERBIRD: IN STERILLO, an instrumental piece that blooms like spring and goes down like summer rain. There are five songs on the album: “PURPLE FISH,” “FLOWER JAM,” “MOSQUITO,” “HUMMINGBIRD DUB,” and, “All the people, everywhere.” When I ask him about the EP, he tells me it’s supposed to sound like “skipping preschool to go to the zoo with your dad and eat lunch with Billy the Elephant.” Or, in layman’s terms, it sounds like nostalgia.
Persona Non Grata clearly draws inspiration from African influences, with smooth wind
instruments, upbeat percussion, and finger-picked guitar. Some fans of SUPERBIRD: IN S
TERILLO compare his work to that of Frank Zappa’s African-American rhythm and blues
tunes—Zappa’s and Persona Non Grata’s discographies both have a distinct doo-wop and blues
influence, though Finn infuses a certain playfulness to a historically somber genre. And, evidently,
there’s still a market for such music. In early September of 2024, preceding his EP’s release, Finn’s
song “PURPLE FISH” went viral on Instagram, garnering 750,000 views and over 1,000 comments.
However, his favorite track off of the EP is “Hummingbird Dub.” The songwriting process, he tells
me, was a collaborative effort.
“I made some cool organ and guitar chords, but they lacked seasoning,” Finn says. “Moose hopped on drums, Miguel hopped on sax. We made a melody and we seasoned the shit outta those potatoes.” I ask him to describe the song, and in a very Persona Non Grata fashion, he says, “‘Hummingbird Dub’ is rainbow sunny but sometimes black with squiggles of color dancing around.”
Though “PURPLE FISH” certainly deserves its flowers, and though “Hummingbird Dub” is an eclectic, underrated jam with an effortless accompanying saxophone, my favorite track off SUPERBIRD: IN STERILLO is definitely “MOSQUITO.” The guitar is electric, and not just in the practical sense. His composition is masterful, every beat meticulously plotted, the song ebbing and flowing as each instrument—or, I suppose, each instrument’s players—engages in a game of call-and-response. The guitar sings and the drums dance. “MOSQUITO” not only spotlight’s Finn’s skillful songwriting but captures his signature fluidity. It resembles the zipping flight patterns of that eponymous bug, whizzing just above your ear, just under your nose, but you’d be a fool to catch it. Clocking in at just over three minutes long, “MOSQUITO” is a driving-with-the-windows-down kind of tune, a perfect encapsulation of what it feels like to be young and free in Southern California.
When asked what a typical gig looks like for him, Finn says, “Well, last Sunday, I played ‘PURPLE FISH’ five times in a row at some kid’s birthday party and then fell off the stage.” He also tells me he still performs how he used to in his rock bands, though now, he says, he’s “actually good at guitar.”
Finn’s pride in his work is evident, but even more blatant is his love for the craft. Something
tells me his performances, his music, his art will feel the same whether he’s playing in a sold-out
arena or in a backyard decorated with string lights and baked in a haze of marajuana and Friday
evening ease. On March 7th, 2025, he visited USC to play for a night of student music sponsored by
Unzipped, an art magazine on campus. Turn-out was strong, and Persona Non Grata’s set was short
but impactful—he and his band hypnotized the crowd from the word “go.”
Twice, Finn instructed
the audience to crouch low to the ground and count down with his band—usually from a comically
high number, 32 instead of a sensible 10—before exploding upward with the given song’s crescendo.
Of course, whether familiar with Finn’s work or not, his audience complied, thrilled to be part, in
some small way, of his performance.
Feeling as if the bass was not only the heartbeat of his music
but of their bodies, that to sink to the pavement was an interval—to rise, a pulse. One might have
thought his efforts were pre-coordinated, but really, it’s difficult to get a group of college kids to
come to class on time, let alone manufacture such synchronicity among teenagers and early
20-somethings. It’s his spontaneity that fans connect with, the promise of anything and everything at
the tips of his fast-moving fingers. Finn makes it seem as though the melody is coming to him as
he’s playing, as if he’s quenching an unceasing musical thirst.
For me, watching Persona Non Grata was like being told a juicy secret or uncovering a hidden gem, one I don’t feel worthy enough to excavate alone. Hopefully, he won’t be too hidden for long. It’s not just his costume or his skill with an instrument that distinguishes Finn in the LA music-scape; there’s an addictive quality to his performance, a je ne sais quoi that makes people come back for more. I ask Finn to describe his musical act in five words or less, and he says, “Sit back, receive the love.” What an endeavor, to create music that makes its listener reciprocate a phantom embrace, an inkling that despite it all, there is still love to be felt.
So, what’s next for Persona Non Grata? Well, for starters, he’d like to study Ethnomusicology at UCLA (Usually, I’d make a half-joke here about UCLA and USC’s brutal, bloody rivalry, but Finn isn’t yet a Bruin, so I’ll abstain). “It’s the only school I applied to,” he tells me. Though, he doesn’t seem too worried about his odds. “If I don’t get in, I wanna take my band somewhere, maybe Cuba, and play music for like two weeks. Give people flashlights and clothes and medicine.” Certainly a charitable cause, and one he weighs in equal measure with formal education.
Finn is grateful for the social media attention, but now, he wants more, and who can blame him? “I will never be satisfied,” he admits. “I have a hunger to take over the North Pole, raise an army of AI penguins, and make the best album ever.” For fans of Dana and Alden, Docteur Nico, Bob Marley, King Tubby, Sabrina Carpenter, and Etran de L’air—or really, for fans of music with heart and soul—I implore you to check out this unique, rising talent. Someone so young and containing such ambition is certain to succeed. Although, from where I’m standing, he already has.
