RZ Shahid “Progression” Music Video Review
Review and photos by: Patrick Axovius, Writer @Sanfeon
Edited by: Andrew Perrizo, Owner/Editor @melodicnoisemedia
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A shot of RZ Shahid exercising.
There’s a narrow space between waking and remembering, a pocket where the fire within you has to be rekindled to unleash a new version that lies within. This liminal space is where Shahid’s “Progression” echoes from, playing as a visual metaphor in grayscale, pushing you to complete your phoenix arc as he jogs through a city still half-asleep—in the stinging cold air of dawn.
As the song begins, almost like grace, a soft female voice slips in, “I just keep on running.” It floats just above the beat, like light tracing a scar. Her voice permeates the soul and serves as a reminder that not all echoes hurt forever.
To shed an old self, you must outrun it. This is the core of Shahid’s art: a quiet evolution found in the rhythm of a steady jog. His cinematography frames running as a healing ritual—both poetic and scientific—where the mind mends through the body's motion, allowing newer versions of the self to be met along the way.
Shahid runs like a man who’s learned that peace is something you chase until it turns around, looks you in the eye, and welcomes you with open arms.
There’s humility in his fashion choice. His wardrobe consists of a simple headband and a zipped jacket, emphasizing functionality over flair. His charisma is quiet, grounded in reflection. Confidence here doesn’t come from ego, but from endurance.
When Shahid starts to rap, the words arrive as he paces gently. The line, “Caught a quick glimpse of the past like a throwback, capturing memories through my D like a Kodak,” is more sigh than flex. It’s the sound of a man making peace with his own story, his steady footfalls on the pavement becoming a quiet rhythm of forgiveness.
His self-awareness and aim are evident in his lyrics, when he says: “Broken down for real… seeking the highest hill,” You may not feel pity immediately, as his quest for transformation overshadows the cry for help he never made evident. The delivery, not the words, carries the emotion.
“We keep on fighting. Look to the stars and go on flying.” This is more mantra than lyric; the refrain pulses with a circular logic. It’s the body’s own proof of life, a run not from something, but for something.
As Shahid jogs and works out, the city blurs into an impression of itself, a landscape where the only question echoing is what, ultimately, is left to outrun. The cinematography is a study in quiet intent. Its softness is strategic, its angles are purposeful, every technical choice is meticulously engineered to mirror the central theme of progression, making the very filmmaking an extension of the journey.
Rejecting the tyranny of fast cuts, the camera work is steady and observational. It’s a patient, process-focused approach where wide, cinematic shots are allowed to breathe. The result is a cohesive and impressively clear visual narrative, achieved not with a massive budget, but with a thoughtful eye.
The transitions are so clean they almost feel subconscious, like breathing. Even the blur is under control. You can sense the direction. The grayscale is the exact temperature of recovery.
The lighting stays mild, not bright or boastful, but deliberate. It wraps the scene in soft stillness, echoing the artist’s state of mind. The gray-toned visuals deepen the reflective mood, giving the visuals a quiet emotional texture. Every frame feels contemplative, caught somewhere between memory and motion.
The song doesn’t just speak to the unhealed version of you; it wraps your mind in the very memory that haunts Shahid, reminding you of memories that broke you in your past. The monotone calm, the looping background vocals, the circular pacing — it’s all hypnotism laced together in mp3. The sound of discipline rebuilding what drama once broke.
“Just know each step comes with each breath… Sit and reflect… move on.” That line is the kind of truth you could hear from a friend mid-run, half-gasping, half-teaching.
Shahid raps on this song with professional cadence as he hits his workout routines excellently; his depth echoes through his pain, but his sweat signals healing. By the time the final chorus fades, the grayscale starts to make sense. It’s not lifeless, it’s what healing looks like before color returns.
When it ends, there’s no dramatic drop, no cinematic fade, just footsteps. The same sound that started it. Soft. Real. Steady.
Shahid has a lot going on in his career; you should check him out on Instagram, Bandcamp, and his official website.