SHAB Treats Best Of All Time Like a Championship

SHAB was born Shabnam in Tehran and learned early that a life can be packed into very little. She left Iran as a child, spent years in a German boarding school away from her family, and arrived in New York as a teenager with one suitcase. English came later, after Farsi and German, after jobs stacked around school, after a brief turn toward law that she dropped for the work that made her feel free. The early records still carry that first name. The English-language career began in 2018 with Damon Sharpe, the Grammy-winning writer-producer who has stayed in the room ever since. Infinite Love arrived in February 2021. The 2025 double album One Suitcase turned the arrival story into a title. Radio followed in pieces: VooDoo with Fat Joe, Lipstick, Skin & Bones – VIP, then It’s On You with Preston Harris, which reached No. 15 on Billboard’s Dance/Mix Show Airplay chart. Perfume, cut in the same early 2026 sessions as this single, came first. Best Of All Time followed on 21 August.

America keeps a private religion of ranking. Sports radio argues the greatest of all time before the first commercial break. Streaming platforms freeze a year into a numbered list. Film kids fight over canons as if a list could settle a life. The phrase itself is a small violence. It pretends a person, a season, a night can be sealed and filed. Pop has lived off that hunger for decades. Bonnie McKee built a career writing the slogans that let a crowd feel crowned for three minutes. Roar. Teenage Dream. Dynamite. The words arrive already lit. They ask the body to agree before the mind has time to argue.

SHAB takes that same championship diction and points it at company. “Together we’re the best of all time.” The line is huge on purpose. It sounds like a locker-room speech and a wedding toast and a group chat that refused to die. She has said the song is for the people who stand beside her, family, lovers, friends, the ones who remind her of her own strength when she loses the thread. That reading fits a biography built on separation. A child moved across borders does not treat a circle as décor. The suitcase was one person. The hook insists on a squad.

The record is built like a rise. The first verse stays closer to the floor. “I used to shy away from controversy.” “I kept my heart on the ground.” “I saw you dancing with doubt.” The language is plain, almost stock, and that is the McKee method. Shadow and light. Cage and fire. Hands high. Turn it to eleven. A pre-chorus lifts toward the stars, then the chorus opens like a room with the lights already up. Bright synths, a kick that does not negotiate, a vocal that wants the whole phrase in one breath. Supersonic fever is a cartoon of adrenaline, and it works because it does not pretend to be anything else. At 3:39 the single has the length of a club tool that still wants radio. It does not wander. It does not hide the hook.

Press around the release talks up Persian melody woven through the arrangement. On this cut the heritage sits more in posture than in a dominant modal line. What you hear first is festival pop with a disco memory, the Kylie-adjacent floor shine the campaign promised, the modern confidence of a singer who has already learned how American dance radio likes a chorus to land. The Iranian story is real. The women’s rights work is real. The song itself chooses the broader channel. Joy as decision. Dance as the thing you do while the world is “going crazy again.” That is a usable idea. It is also a well-worn one. The lyric does not invent a new picture of loyalty. It repeats a mantra until the mantra becomes furniture.

That is the trade. Best Of All Time is extremely good at being what it is. It will move a class, a gym, a Friday room that wants a title to shout. It will not surprise anyone who has lived inside McKee and Sharpe records for fifteen years. JHart’s melodic hand is there in the way the title sits on the beat, easy to grab, hard to miss. The writing room did its job. The risk is that the job is so complete the song can feel sealed on first play, a trophy already engraved.

What gives the single weight is the tension between the scale of the language and the smallness of the need underneath it. Championship talk usually isolates a winner. Here it tries to hold a group in place. For an artist whose first American chapter began with one bag and two languages that were not English, that choice has feeling even when the metaphors stay safe. The beat does the work the lyric will not. The voice carries the claim with enough force that you believe the night, if not the eternity.

Best Of All Time is the second of three singles from those 2026 sessions. It already knows its function. Keep the body busy. Name the people who stayed. Let the title do the bragging so the singer does not have to stand alone under it.

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Best Of All Time is out now.

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