@dpol.pov
One week after Brixton. The conversation around Msb Mario didn’t end when he walked off stage at Hootananny — it started there.
Some people saw something new. Others weren’t convinced. A guy in a hat, strange moves, stretching words until they almost collapsed under their own weight. Not quite rap. Not quite poetry. And when it leans toward rhythm, it doesn’t land as reggaeton either — at least not in any way the genre recognizes. Not something the culture has a clear place for — yet.
That’s exactly why The Source is paying attention. Because hip-hop has always been quick to expose what’s real and what’s just dressed up as different, and right now the question around Mario isn’t subtle: is he a genius, or just something people don’t understand yet.
On the phone, El Niño de la Pili doesn’t rush. He drags his sentences out, pauses long enough to make you wonder if he’s still there. There are moments where his words blur, like his mouth is catching up to his thoughts. And then, suddenly — precision. Clarity. Intent.
It’s not clean. It’s not comfortable. But it’s hard to ignore.
And for the first time in its history, The Source is speaking to a Spoken Word artist. Not because it makes sense. Because it’s different; his spoken word sounds like music. And we don’t quite know how to define it.
@dpol.pov
You’re the first Spoken Word artist to be interviewed by The Source — that doesn’t happen by accident. From where you stand, does hip-hop feel like a place you belong to, or something you’re stepping into on your own terms?
I don’t know what is Hip Hop. I like Brian Jones playing the zither in Morocco. Magic flow. Shakalaka and plaka plaka.
Let’s stay with perception for a second. Your TV appearance, where you spoke about your bisexuality — some people read that as vulnerability, others as timing, even strategy. When you look back at that moment, do you see honesty, or awareness of impact?
It took you a whole minute to come up with that question, my brother. Honestly, I proper love your knob, me. I reckon it’s like a boss little microphone. It’s got this mad vulnerability about it, like… you’ve never even touched a fanny, lad.
Hip-hop has always been built on lineage — artists who defined what came next. When people hear names like Tupac, Biggie, Jay-Z, Nas, they hear foundations. When you step into that conversation, are you continuing something, or deliberately standing outside of it?
Are u gonna keep askin’ me about hip hop all the time? Nah, but seriously, who is Nas? I like Jim Morrison, I stand on the lineage of Morrissey and El Jero. That’s my level. But I like Jay Z, don’t get arsey if not, you know… he callin’ Elon.
There are certain questions in this magazine that people dance around — so let’s not. When you look at someone like Eminem, what do you actually see?
Comin’ up. It never mattered what colour you was. Now if you spit, you’re bringin’ out Benzino.
Going back to Brixton — your performance at Hootananny divided the room. Some leaned in, others disconnected completely. Are you conscious that, for part of the audience, you still exist more as an image than something they fully grasp?
Sound, I live proper disconnected from the world.
What you do sits in a space that doesn’t have a clear definition — part poetry, part music, part performance. When your spoken word starts to feel like a song? Do you see that as evolution, or something intentionally unresolved?
After gettin’ a b**wjob, it’s reggaeton, lad. How do you want me to start? Well I also dip into this Rivozen and Chela Chele world; that’s hip hop, innit? The b**wjob bit, obviously.
“Dorme Bu” was, for many of us, the entry point — the moment where something clicked. When you strip it back, what is that track really built on?
I’m twisted and you’re pushin’ me into bad touches, eh, funny. Dorme Bu comes from that French film Los Chicosdel OVVO, a gang of killers going round murkin’ people for social influence and power up top.
There’s been consistent criticism around your attitude — distant, arrogant, deliberately untouchable. You’ve even referenced yourself in ways that echo religious imagery. In your mind, is that comparison intentional,or something people are projecting onto you?
None. I’m always a motherfuck*er. No difference at all. I’mart, not arrogant; what kinda question is that?
You’ve kept most of your personal life at a distance. Except for one detail — your daughter, who appears in your narrative but never fully enters it. Why keep that boundary so absolute?
Your mouth doesn’t deserve this theme.
Let’s not avoid it — there are ongoing rumors about drug use around you. Not as image, not as mythology, but as reality. Is that something that’s part of your present?
There are rumors, is that a rap tune? I don’t even know the lyrics. I’m high right now. Rumors.
Looking at the Spanish scene — without naming anyone — how do you position yourself within it? And more importantly, do you see anyone operating above you right now?
All of ’em. They’re amazing. Creative. Beautiful. Skinny.Good looking. Great voices. Proper spontaneous. I love them. I’d shag them, really.
You’ve stayed relatively silent on politics, so let’s simplify it. When you look at someone like Donald Trump, what do you actually see?
I prefer McDonald’s. Burgers are better in the UK. Chips are better too. Unreal
Right now, there’s a real uncertainty around you — whether people are witnessing the start of something important, or something that just looks like it. From where you stand, are you ahead of the culture, or moving within that confusion?
I move between bags. White ones most the time. Findin’ space to define.
There’s always a line between being misunderstood and being protected by that misunderstanding. Do you ever feel that part of what surrounds you depends on people not fully decoding it?
We’re not talking about the same lines, honestly. I feel like what people feel is weighed down and clogged up by a controlled culture.
You’ve built something that feels almost untouchable — but hip-hop has a history of eventually demanding clarity. What happens when people stop interpreting and start expecting answers?
What’s clarity to you? Hip hop? Chains nearly gold? MTV Cribs?
At Hootananny, the reaction wasn’t unanimous — it was split. Do you read that divide as validation, or as a signal that not everyone is meant to stay with what you’re doing?
I never expect reactions, and definitely not unanimous ones. You know, I set up a musical debate and then you go home and sort it out. What d’you need to validate there? Everyone’s meant to listen to poetry with music someday, so they’ll come to me sooner or later. Simple.
You don’t move like a traditional artist, and you don’t sound like one either. So let’s be direct — is this something built to last, or something that only exists while people are still trying to understand it?
I don’t know, I sound like the best writer in history, and no writer’s ever sounded like this with their lyrics. Because writers don’t even have a sound, only me. You answer that one.
There’s a difference between shaping culture and having culture project meaning onto you. Right now, people are filling in the blanks around your work — do you feel in control of that, or does it move beyond you?
I’ve got no control, but it doesn’t overpower me either; it’s in the air; then yeah, you fill the gaps in church with Jesus wearing a red hat, makes sense.
Every era has an artist people hesitate to fully accept until it’s too late. Do you think what surrounds you right now is doubt, or the early stages of recognition people aren’t ready to admit yet?
I hope I’m dead by the time that question can even nearly be answered.
And let’s push that further — if someone else walked onto that same stage in Brixton and did exactly what you did, would it land the same way? Or has the idea of you already become inseparable from the work?
Well, if you can find someone with my face, my hat, and touched by Pili’s hand, sound lad. Still wouldn’t hit the same though, cause I always go “a Capel”.
People see the image, the distance, the control — but they rarely see what it costs to build something like this and sustain it. When you look back at the path that brought you here, what have you actually had to give up to make it real?
Absolutely everything.
At what point did you realize this wasn’t just expression anymore — that it was becoming something people would either follow or reject completely?
When I was right on top of an unreal woman and every time I pushed, my hip was saying “Chela” and hers was saying “Chele”. Then it just kept happening and I got into it, you know?
Final question. Strip everything away — not the narrative, not the perception, but right now: if everything disappeared tomorrow — the noise, the image, the curiosity — what would still remain that proves this was never just a moment?
My mum, Pili. My lyrics. My dad. And my grandad in London.
El Niño de la Pili cuts the call abruptly, without saying goodbye, leaving the conversation hanging in the air. After Hootananny, the noise hasn’t settled — it’s shifted. Not into consensus, but into tension. Because what happened on that stage wasn’t clean enough to celebrate, and not simple enough to dismiss. It sat somewhere in between — in that space where the culture usually hesitates before it decides whether to reject something or absorb it completely.
El Niño de la Pili doesn’t make that decision easy. He doesn’t offer clarity. He doesn’t even move like someone asking to be understood. If anything, he seems comfortable with the friction — with the split reaction, with the doubt, with the idea that not everyone is supposed to get it at the same time.
And that’s where it gets complicated. Because hip-hop has always claimed it knows how to spot what’s real. But history suggests something else: the culture rarely agrees in the moment. It argues first. It questions. It resists. And then, sometimes, it realizes too late.
Right now, El Niño de la Pili exists exactly in that uncertainty — not fully embraced, not easily dismissed. For some, that’s a red flag. For others, it’s the first sign that something unfamiliar is starting to take shape. The truth is,if this were easy to define, it probably wouldn’t matter. But it isn’t.
And whether that’s because it’s unfinished or ahead of its time is still up for debate. What’s not up for debate is this: people are paying attention. And in this culture, that’susually where it starts.