Cover photo credit: David Polley @dpol.pov
It’s a sunny Wednesday in London. Easter week. Msb Mario “El Niño de la Pili” walks—slowly, deliberately—through the streets of Brixton on his way to a photo session you’ll see accompanying this piece. A cigarette, unmistakably not tobacco, burns between his fingers. He inhales with indifference, exhales without urgency. There is no performance in it, or perhaps there is—impossible to tell.
He agrees to answer questions, but not to stop moving.
There’s a growing mythology around you in Spain—your mother gave you your artistic name, Pili, has appeared publicly, yet your father remains entirely absent from your narrative. With your permission—who is he, and why has he never been part of the story?
My idol, my role model, and a father smart enough to stay out of all this. He is true poetry; I, unfortunately, am talking to you.
Images published in Spanish media suggest a relationship with substances that goes beyond rumor. Do you see those portrayals as exploitation, misunderstanding—or a reflection of something real in your life right now?
It’s a difficult question to answer. I try to push aside coffee, people, conversations, phones, egocentrism, malice, envy, and falsehood but these are addictions that constantly surround me. So perhaps the rumours are true. We’re all, in one way or another, dependent on harmful substances.
Your nightlife has been described as chaotic, even self-destructive. Do you recognize that version of yourself, or is it something projected onto you because of your image?
Suave. I haven’t been out for weeks, but tonight after the concert I think I’ll indulge in that lovely addiction again, love. Want to come?
After your television appearance in Spain, speculation around your sexuality intensified. Do you feel any need to define that publicly, or is ambiguity part of how you construct your identity?
Xapala. Xa. Xa. Xapala. I think when the sun shines in London it’s beautiful, but when it rains it has a special charm.
Your move into reggaeton has confused part of your audience—some see it as contradiction, others as evolution. Why reggaeton, and why now?
Because I had previously mastered all genres with tremendous ease, poetry was far superior; honestly, I don’t think I make reggaeton, I make glam. That is to say, everything aesthetically pleasing makes it sound good; you call it reggaeton, I call it good sex.
There have been rumors—quiet, but persistent—about a possible withdrawal from the public eye. Are those rumors completely unfounded, or is there truth behind them?
Yes, the truth is I don’t feel like walking any further, we’ll take a taxi.
Photo credit: David Polley @dpol.pov
Tonight’s show at Hootananny is already being framed as a defining moment. What are you actually planning to do on that stage?
I have to think about it in the taxi.
You’ve blurred poetry, flamenco, and reggaeton into something difficult to categorise. Is there a new project—an album, perhaps—that will solidify this direction?
Didn’t you want me to retire? I’m not releasing any more albums.
There are people who see you as a generational artist, and others who see you as deliberately provocative without substance. Do you feel misunderstood—or do you rely on that tension?
I like the second group; they were all eating at my house. Jesus Christ always gives a last meal.
Finally—when all of this noise settles, the rumours, the press, the speculation—what is left of Mario, the person, beyond “El Niño de la Pili”?
El hijo de Rogelio. In Spanish.
As the final answer fades into the London air, Mario’s expression shifts—almost imperceptibly—into a smile. It doesn’t resolve anything. It complicates everything. Within seconds, he and his photographer break away, moving quickly through the streets of Brixton, disappearing into the city that still hasn’t decided what to make of him. He doesn’t say goodbye—he lingers instead, somewhere between confusion and fascination. And that may be the point. El Niño de la Pili doesn’t leave. He stays in your head.
Photo credit: David Polley @dpol.pov
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