Willie Peyote: “I thought about quitting: others saved me”

“Anatomy of a Prolonged Crash”, Willie Peyote’s new album, investigates failure, wealth (of others), revolution and, above all, the sense of community. It is a record that smells of a new direction, of rebirth, also because it arrives after deep cracks that the Turin artist recounts, disarming himself, in this long interview. It is an album of many colours, one of his best: it alternates angry pieces with more intimate and sentimental ones, finally finding a confident and defined soundscape thanks to the work of Fudasca and all the musicians involved. But, above all, it is sincere. Radically sincere. A sincerity that also echoes in the documentary “Elegia sabauda” by Enrico Bisi, in which the artist lays himself bare for what he is: an antihero capable of metaphorically transforming defeats, doubts and his own craters, like the one depicted on the cover of his new album (here is the tour), into skateboard ramps, from which he can push himself to jump even higher.

In the film “Anatomy of a Fall” it is not clear who is responsible for a death. In your album instead those responsible for the situation in which we are finished are evident.
Yes, but it depends on what crime we are talking about (smiles, ed.). In a certain situation, those responsible are actually immediately recognisable: the system we live in today is a playground for the rich and super rich. They want to expand their assets to the detriment of all of us and they buy us one by one. Yes, they are obvious. Less obvious is our responsibility, which certainly exists. I haven’t met a person in a long time who tells me they’re fine. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to accept and talk to each other to try to change what we all experience together? If we don’t react, yes, it’s our fault.

On “Looking for a Crash,” the opening track, you’re pissed. Was it the fuse that lit the flame of the record?
No, in reality it was neither among the first nor among the last. It is a piece that was born from the need to create an unreleased piece for Enrico Bisi’s documentary. I liked the idea of ​​paying homage to the Subsonica phrase “In search of a crash” (taken from “All my mistakes”, ed.), their history and their thirty-year career. Everything was perfect, in line with the record.

But why do you hope for “the crash”?
Because you think: if this fall has been going on for so long and we’re getting nowhere, and we all realize that we’re heading towards oblivion, then wouldn’t it be better to crash once and for all, reset everything and start again? This makes me angry, because I have doubts that it could be irreversible.

The disc actually reacts to many situations.
Yes, it’s also “sweet” in some ways. And it’s something that struck me: “Burrasca” a few years ago I wouldn’t have written, and maybe not even published. I had some hesitations, especially at the idea that it could be a single. But the truth is that it’s been coming for a while. It taught me a lot, because I worked by subtraction. There is also a side of me that I have always hidden, because the rapper, according to the cliché, shouldn’t be so sweet, so tender. Instead today, precisely because I’m so pissed off at the world, I realize that we also need something good, hope. I think of my grandchildren in Ecuador: I want to give them a little hope too. I can’t just be angry.

Your grandchildren in Ecuador?
My sister lives there with her children. Even though that piece started thinking about a very important person for me who is in China at the moment. So the distance comes back, again. Then I realized that it wasn’t just a sentimental song: it spoke about the need of others. I thought about my grandchildren on the other side of the world, with Italy in the middle, and it came naturally to me: it is dedicated to distant people, to say “if you need it, I’m here”, even from a distance.

Is “Mi surrendero” with Brunori sung through gritted teeth?
Yes, it’s an acceptance. In that piece we surrender to the fact that we need someone close to shine. The theme, in the end, is community. We live in an era that takes away our sense of community, and instead it must be rediscovered. For the good of everyone, to find solutions together. I asked myself: why do I do what I do? Who do I write for?

What did you answer?
I started traveling again, seeing people after Covid, and I realized that what I do is still worth doing. But I went through moments of tiredness. And I believe it is a shared tiredness: it is an era that puts everyone to the test and often leaves us alone in the face of problems. A doubt arises: does it make sense to take a stand? Nothing changes anyway. Why fight a battle that doesn’t bring anything down? That doubt is there. But I believe that right at that moment, when you think about giving up, if you have someone close to you, even just one person, then maybe it’s still worth trying.

One of the central themes is precisely the need for community.
Yes, in my head there are two macro-themes of the album: the need of others, therefore the sense of the collective, and the redistribution of wealth. This second theme reaches its peak especially in “Luigi”, but also in “Sapore di Marseille”, in an ironic, irreverent way. They want to convince us that the They wealth is a benefit for everyone, but there is no evidence that it really is. In fact, we work for them for free. On social media, as artists, as content creators: we produce value that ends up in their pockets. And they convince us that it is for our own good. It’s absurd. We are talking about an economic distance that is enormous today: between these billionaires and a normal person there is more distance than there was between the pharaohs and their subjects.

Luigi Nicholas Mangione is a US citizen charged with the murder of Brian Thompson, CEO of UnitedHealthcare. Doesn’t taking it as a reference in a song risk creating big misunderstandings?
I start from the fact that Luigi Mangione has become a symbol on social media. And this opens up two reflections. The first: if the system doesn’t give you tools to react, sooner or later someone who takes a gun and shoots will arrive. And it arrived. At that point you ask yourself: perhaps a figure like Greta Thunberg is no longer enough. The second reflection is even more disturbing: how is it possible that Luigi Mangione became a “positive” character?

Maybe because it became a meme?
Exactly. Because he’s a nice guy. Because it is “shareable”. And then the question becomes: how is the revolution made today? We have gone from “The revolution will not be televised” to a revolution that, to exist, must be memorable. Must work on Instagram. And this is paradoxical: we have reached the point where, to be credible in people’s eyes, even an extreme gesture must become content. Luigi Mangione’s story seems like a film: the 3D printed gun, the arrest for a trivial thing, the fact that he ends up in cell with Puff Daddy… it’s all so absurd that it becomes perfect to be told. And this is precisely why it fascinates us.

But the moment a revolution becomes “instagrammable”, is it still a revolution?
I do not know. But if it’s the only way we have today to get it through, maybe we have to accept this too.

Bisi’s documentary avoids the rhetoric of celebration.
In Italy, documentaries on artists often seem like hagiographies, as if they were always talking about someone who “won everything”. But I didn’t win anything. I am a lucky person, who has a story to tell. But I’m not interested in being seen as the one who won. Also because the victories are all the same, while the defeats are different, and therefore more interesting. With Enrico Bisi we tried precisely this: to tell a posture in the world of music, not a triumph. Today, however, storytelling has become advertising: exposing a story means selling something. And therefore there are only success stories.

Other points of view?
I want real stories. I want stories like those in the beautiful film “The Cities of the Plain”, stories of daily defeats. Because only in this way do I feel less alone in my own.

Are defeats also useful?
The problem is the context: they make you feel alone. If at 24 you haven’t graduated, at 25 you haven’t achieved something, you’re a failure: the system says this. But that’s not true. And it’s not true in music either: I signed my first real recording contract at 34 years old. Marracash wasn’t famous at twenty, Salmo wasn’t even, Lucio Dalla wasn’t even famous. Only in sport does it make sense to talk about “time”, for a physical question. But not in the rest of life. And instead these kids today have an anxiety about the immediate result that is scary. And it makes me feel lucky, because I lived in an era that allowed me to be late. The issue of failure is huge.

Pier Paolo Pasolini said that we should teach the new generations that failure is necessary.
He was right. Because the worst moments of my life were also the most important ones. When I was 28-29 years old, the album that changed my life was born out of a crisis. From Covid, which broke my legs, I came out better. Pain should not be avoided at all costs. It must be crossed. I’m not saying that one should seek failure, but one must also accept that part of life.

You say that Covid “broke your legs”…
I tried to react with a complex record, “Pornostalgia” and it wasn’t easy. But that “black hole” helped. It helped me find a new direction, including a musical one. We took measures better, even changing the team, putting everyone back in their role. Because when everyone wants to do everything, you lose. In this album, however, everyone is in the right place.

Did you think about quitting during and immediately after Covid?
Yes. Because I had lost contact with people. I no longer saw them, I no longer experienced the real response of the listener. I no longer understood why I was doing this. It was a tiring journey. It took me four years to really get out of it. But it was fundamental, because it forced me to question everything.

What moment are we talking about?
When the documentary started, so around November 2023, I was in a moment where I seriously thought that maybe it wasn’t a thing anymore… I was tired. And above all I had the feeling of no longer being able to intercept the time in which I lived, to reach people as before. You move on, but you say to yourself: maybe I don’t have it anymore. I didn’t want to get angry. I have too much respect for music and for those who listen to do it “by force”. “If it no longer makes sense, I’ll stop”: I told myself this clearly.

But then something happened, if we are here today.
In 2024 and even more so in 2025 I saw people return to the streets, I saw a desire to participate, to take a stand. And then I realized that perhaps there was still a space. That perhaps I could still have some use, even as an artist. And there the energy returned. The album was born in a short time. We already had something aside, but the real push came after Sanremo 2025, where I met Brunori: from March onwards everything came out. Because we had a new desire. Then of course, if people find the new thing disgusting, maybe I’ll change my mind (laughs, ed.). But the truth is that I am satisfied. And it’s not often that I am this much.

So what “saved” you?
The others. Because no one saves themselves.