The glorious return of Pete Philly

What happened to Pete Philly?

Seemingly poised for international success following the release of two solo albums, and three with cellist and producer Pieter “Perquisite” Perquin, not to mention support slots for James Brown and Kanye West – the artist born Pete Monzón drew critical acclaim with his collision of classic hip hop, soul, jazz and Sixties psychedelia.

But after a tour in support of the duo’s last album, Mystery Repeats, and a self-released solo album, Open Loops, in 2010, he vanished. There was no activity on social media, no rumours of new music. Pete Philly had all but disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Fast-forward to 2018, and the Aruba-born Amsterdam-based artist is finally back with new music and a fresh outlook on life. Sporting yellow-tinted shades and bubblegum pink hair, he bounds around the Red Bull studio in the Dutch capital, rehearsing his most recent single – the infectiously catchy “Favorite Song” – until satisfied he’s got it right.

This new material is more outgoing, less introspective than his previous work. There are fewer questions and more answers. It feels very much like we’re being introduced to a brand new artist – something Philly is determined to capitalise on. He’s not one for nostalgia.

Stirring honey into a steaming glass of mint tea, he jumps up and down on his chair, animated by the earlier session and by talk of what’s been happening over the past few months. Naturally competitive, he talks about how he can feel isolated in the Netherlands, which doesn’t have a huge reputation for hip hop. And he’s not chest-thumping, he shrugs. It’s just facts.

“I’m still trying to adapt to this place,” he says. “The whole energy in Aruba is different. There’s a literal warmth there that all of western Europe doesn’t have. I’ve been to England, Scotland, Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Scandinavia, it’s all kind of stiff. That’s what happens when the sun doesn’t shine.”

Yet he still sounds wistful for a city like London, which still clings onto its reputation as a thriving music city. “Pressure creates diamonds. I reckon the reason the London scene is as dope as it is, is because it’s not easy. All things that really matter involve hard work – relationships, art, careers. London creates this urgency in a way that Amsterdam doesn’t have to.”

“I like it here,” he adds hastily. “It’s laid back, and over the last decade it’s become so international – especially in the neighbourhood where I live. But because I’m kind of the only one in my ‘sport’… I end up creating these synthetic challenges all the time.

“I could do a Perquisite reunion and play a bunch of bigger venues. I could use the fact I know how to write pop songs…” he trails off with a shake of his head. “I don’t do that either. I want to make things as challenging as possible. I’ve tried to innovate on a bunch of levels but,” he laughs ,“because I’m geographically challenged…”

Coming out of the Netherlands is tough, he suggests, if you’re an artist looking for a bigger audience.

“You can really get lost in seeking some kind of external validation,” he says. “Here in the Netherlands, humility was forced upon me. I’ve done stuff that I know is really amazing. I rocked the f**k out of Tokyo. I toured 30 countries. London Jazz Cafe... I loved that gig. Touring with Kanye, opening for James Brown.” He grins.

open image in gallery

It was Lyme disease that forced him to drop out of his flourishing music career – an illness that took 20 years to diagnose. Before that Philly wasn’t sure what the problem was: often Lyme disease can be misdiagnosed as a number of other illnesses, from gluten intolerance to allergies to paranoid schizophrenia.

“This disease took all my money,” Philly says with a wry laugh. “I was in a moment in my life where I was just about to kick in the next big door. I was doing the Mystery Repeats tour, and by the end of it I was haggard.

“In the States, a common misdiagnosis of Lyme is paranoid schizophrenia. I felt like that for a long time – I couldn’t find my centre. I’d feel lazy yet motivated, paranoid but mellow at the same time. There’s something inside that really messes with you.”

He addresses that feeling in his video for “Come Together”, which portrays him as four very different personalities that eventually join the same party – in the shape of today’s Pete Philly.

Still, he says he feels like “the luckiest guy” to have the disease, because it completely changed his perspective on things. Of course he’d love to go back to touring 5,000-seater venues – but if he’s rocking out in a bar or a cafe, he’s happy to start there too. It’s how he started things the last time.

“I was in a really bad place on the last tour,” he recalls. “I didn’t want to look at anybody any longer as some kind of ‘means to an end’. I want to know how I can be of service: as a human being, as an artist, as a representation of a culture… I think we get frustrated with people like Kanye because he’s dope as an artist but he gets lost in feeling like he isn’t getting enough credit for what he does.

“My original motivation to become an artist was because I was looking for a family, and I found an audience. Which is weird because you’re being consumed by them, and it looks like love and it feels like love but it is also literal consumption.

“That’s how culture works. To me the real challenge is how do you continue to add verses to the poetry that is the universe? Do you feel like you can contribute? There needs to be some love in your s**t,” he says, animated. ”I don’t need to hear graphic lyrics about a d**k going into a vagina. Call me old fashioned.”

It’s interesting that English is the language where he feels most himself. Dutch is still “foreign” in a lot of ways, he says.

“Living in the Netherlands, I’ve had to spend a lot of time explaining myself, defending myself, and trying to calm people down who feel threatened by my ‘otherness’. Conformity is something that gets pushed for in most cultures. And you’re always the good guy in the history books of your home country, so you’re gonna struggle to understand why there’s a divide.

“There is no room for conservative thinking in art. If we’re all prisoners of our perception anyway, you might as well choose something loving. That’s the gift of multiculturalism.”

The year he decided he was going to make another record was 2015. “I was in the studio with all these amazing musicians making really dope, weird, quirky music that I will release at some point. But I needed to feel the freedom to really mess up.”

“Come Together” and “Favorite Song” go heavier on the bass than his earlier work, which infused jazz and funk elements in a more traditional hip hop style. On some tracks he pays homage to his Caribbean roots: “Somewhere between Missy and Outkast and The Roots… there’s me messing around,” he smiles.

“But nothing nourishes my heart more than a new D’Angelo record. He inspires me to do something completely different. The guy I made ‘Come Together’ with – he and I were both funk artists before this. If you give me an on-the-one funk beat I’ll do my best work, but I avoid it because... too many people are doing a bad job of it, and too many people are doing a good job.

“There’s so much culture on offer, and you don’t really have control over when the impact comes. A song might hit three years later, for some bizarre reason. The thing that makes me really excited about now… I feel like I got this disease so I could cool out and wait until the universe became what I needed it to be.”

‘“avorite Song”, the new track by Pete Philly, is out now – keep an eye out for upcoming shows in the UK