“I contradict myself all the time, but it makes me feel alive,” sings Pedro Quevedo (Madrid, 24 years old) in El Baifo, his most anticipated album. As soon as it was released, it exploded once again on the charts. The 10 most listened-to songs in Spain on Spotify are his. But they are just numbers: “My goal is to see what happens over time and if they stay.” His life is also a constant duality. He is Pedro and Quevedo. The normal guy who comes and goes from his home in the Canary Islands, and the international star. The twenty-something who fame dragged along and “the fucking boss” of his songs. The arrogant and the humble. The introverted and the sweet. The artist who looks you in the eye and answers, without hesitation or reservations, all the interview questions and the one who arrives cradled by his manager, a press officer, a videographer, a stylist, and a makeup artist.
Question. Does he deserve so much success?
Answer. It’s too much. I haven’t done anything that good in my life. I don’t know if I’m better or worse than anyone, but I’m different. Because of my voice, how I write, or my intuition about my career, what I want to happen with music in the islands, and what I can contribute.
Q. In El Baifo he talks a lot about managing money and fame, yet kids of all ages connect with his songs.
A. Those things are distant for them, but they feel close because what I tell is real. My audience has grown with me and has seen me evolve over these four years. I let Pedro show a lot in Quevedo’s lyrics.
I had a severe depression, now the first thing is my stability”
Q. The car, the mansion, the Cartier, the trips, the diamonds… And that obsession with showing off?
A. Urban and reggaeton come from the street and necessity. They talk about overcoming from the message of “before I had nothing and now I have everything.” That’s what my songs talk about. There are days when I love being rich, but other times I see it as a sentence. And all of it is true inside me.
Q. A sentence?
A. It may sound arrogant, but it’s true. I used to live chasing money, like my family and friends do, and suddenly, I jump out of that game super fast and stop knowing what drives me in life. Everyone has to get up on Monday to go out for drinks with their money on Saturday. I don’t have to get up. Not Monday, not Tuesday, not next month or the one after. It’s complicated. It took me a lot to understand it, I had to look for other motivations, but blessed problems!

Q. What has he missed during this time?
A. I matured too fast. Suddenly, I found myself touring the world, far from my friends, with a different economy… But now I’ve become a kid again. And I enjoy meeting on a bench, saying a few silly things, and going home.
Q. Do you still share an apartment?
A. I share an apartment in the poshest way possible [laughs]. With friends and because I want to. It’s a choice. I don’t like being alone in Madrid.
My voice is awesome, even though I’m not the artist with the best vocal technique”
Q. At your professional peak, you decided to stop. Did you fall into depression?
A. One hundred percent. I had a severe depression, for sure. At that time, I didn’t go to a psychologist even once, but it was hard to get out of bed, find motivation, I had very negative thoughts. I locked myself in a lot. I preferred to swallow it, and once I fulfilled my commitments, I stepped aside to fix myself.
Q. What maturity…
A. You think? I think it’s immaturity because I put myself last. Now if I feel bad, the first thing is my health and stability.
Q. Not all artists can afford that.
A. Being at the mercy of the pace set by the industry and not being able to choose your times is a pain in the ass. Also, social media is demoralizing. If you’re not ready they eat you up.
Don’t confuse talking about explicit sex in songs with disrespect”
Q. How do you handle criticism of your hoarse voice?
A. For me, my voice is awesome, even though I’m not the person with the best vocal technique in the world. My project isn’t about that. People criticize me for everything, although compared to other albums, this is the one I’ve seen the most good reviews of at first.
Read more Borja Sémper on ‘El hormiguero’: three in one
Q. Does urban genre lack social prestige?
A. We live in the era of moral superiority. Each genre has its complexity. Urban was born not to please the posh guy who says another music is better.
Q. Maybe the lyrics that seem to objectify women don’t help…
A. There’s a big difference between talking about explicit things and crossing the line and not respecting women’s integrity. Don’t confuse talking about sex with disrespect. In my case, I feel I do it from a context of consent and respect, but I understand there’s debate. I like that clichés are fading away.
I walk around downtown Madrid with my cap and no one stops me”
Q. Do you feel that Generation Z men are radicalizing against feminism?
A. Well, there will always be dumb people and a lot of nonsense is said on the internet. My generation has grown very aware. I come from a school run by priests and in my class there were two trans girls.
Q. I get the feeling you find it hard to go on tour.
A. I’m a studio artist. Before this last one, which I enjoyed a lot, it was hard because I never dreamed of filling stadiums as a kid. It took me a while to get the hang of it and enjoy the trips. There comes a time when you can’t take it anymore. It’s many months away from home, but then I come back and it’s worth it.
Q. Can you live a normal life here like on your island?
A. Yes. I walk around downtown Madrid with my cap and no one stops me. People don’t care about me. I don’t know if my face is that recognizable. Although once they stop me, it’s crazy.
For Canarians, there’s no way to start in music there”
Q. Why have your idols fallen?
A. Great artists are real people with issues, problems with their family, anxieties… That bothered me when I met them. I thought that when you reach that level of success, the rest of your life goes smoothly. That’s why I don’t want anyone to idealize me. One day I can be the nicest guy in the world and another day I have a bad day, you ask me for a photo and I tell you to leave me alone. And I don’t want you to think I’m unfriendly or that you lose an idol. I want to be normal.

Q. Without the internet, could a kid from the Canary Islands making songs in his room have come this far?
A. No, impossible. There are very few resources there. There’s no way to start in music. For Canarians, being far away and poorly connected makes everything much more complicated… I am an internet phenomenon.
Q. And yet, you feel you owe everything to your land.
A. Yes, because in the Canary Islands people listened to me when I wasn’t playing anywhere else. The worst part is that it wasn’t because I was so good but because I was a local guy who was working hard.
Q. What would you say to him?
A. Don’t stop, [his eyes shine], don’t let anything intimidate you, don’t consider giving up your dream because of that crap, a little further ahead is the good stuff. Although maybe I’m still too young to give that Pedro advice.