I had the opportunity to catch up with Petite Noir, a singer, songwriter and record producer whose work is a beautiful blend of influences, with an uncanny sound and heartbreaking lyrical depth. The enigmatic artist took the time to give us a glimpse of his artistic process and the influences that result in what we now know as #noirwave. Here’s what went down during our candid conversation.
Petite Noir (born Yannick Diekeno Ilunga on August 24, 1990) began his career as part of the duo Popskarr with producer Terrence Pearce (2009-2012). His debut solo single, Till We Ghosts (2012), led to his first extended play, The King of Anxiety (2015). His debut studio album, La vie est belle / Life Is Beautiful (2015), received positive reviews and featured tracks like Chess and Down. In 2018, he released a mini-album titled La Maison Noir / The Black House. Then on the 14th of April 2023, the highly anticipated second album, MotherFather was released.
I first asked about his formative years. He responded, “My influences are quite varied. I started off being into hardcore and heavy metal, very aggressive sounds, from a young age. As I grew older, my taste broadened, and I got into pop, dance music, and hip-hop […] a lot of African music, Congolese music, was a big part of my upbringing. My parents always played Congolese music at home […] and being in South Africa, the sounds from there really influenced me as well. Now, I’m at a point where I listen to anything that sounds good and resonates with me.”
Feeling familiar resonance, I responded, “I really sense in your practice this ability to blend different genres. As someone who grew up in a similar way, being interested in various types of music, I was often called a “coconut.” I wonder if your upbringing involved navigating your identity in a similar way, where you found yourself pushing against what you were expected to listen to or be influenced by, versus staying connected to your roots.”
The artist replied, “[…] for sure, you always get those people who would call you a ‘coconut’ or say that your music is like ‘white music.’ But for me, it’s always been different because I’ve never thought about music that way. It’s like, when someone does accounting, no one says, ‘Oh, but the majority of people who do accounting are white, so you’re doing a white thing.’ Or, ‘The majority of doctors are white, so you’re doing a white thing.’ That’s how I view music […]. I’m not going to limit myself or box myself into what people think I should be or should be listening to.”
Inserting myself even further into the narrative, I asked, “One of the things that I personally relate to in your work is I get the sense that there’s a safe space around anxiety or melancholy or being neuro spicy, being sort of just on the margins in a way. Is that coming from a personal perspective or just societal observations?”
Petite Noir answered, “Well, that’s definitely from personal observation because I want my music to be personal too. At the end of the day, I have these feelings and experiences. So, while I can talk about politics and all these other topics, it’s important for me to express myself in my music and share what I’m going through—to be as real as I can be. […] [I] put my emotion […] into it, you know? And even that is an act of resistance in this world. Just being a man, talking about his emotions and talking about his feelings and being in touch with them at the same time.
I’ve always had really bad anxiety. Ever since I was very young, […] and experienced things like severe chest pains. The other day, my sister told me that when I was born, my mom had really bad anxiety and was extremely stressed. Now, when I look at myself and I’m like, Jesus, it’s actually come to me. But in a way, I feel like I’m healing a generational issue […]. So when I have my own children—though I won’t be the one carrying them—there will be a part of this process that […] at least allows it to be addressed in some way.”
“Wow, thank you for sharing that,” I said, shocked at the level of generosity. “The second part of that question is—for me, MotherFather explores that space really well—the space of darkness—and also holds the potential for there to be so much beauty and growth coming from that space. I feel like it challenges this idea of the binary, where darkness isn’t necessarily the opposite of light and growth. Even in terms of gender, you’re talking about being a man and working through this space. Was that your intention?”
“No, definitely. I think in terms of MotherFather, it was also about searching for myself, really searching for a new sound or searching for what I wanted to sound like. It felt a bit like a bridge in the sense that, for a while now, I’ve been searching for my voice. Even though I’ve been making music for quite some time, I’ve still been searching for my voice and for myself. I think only now do I feel the most comfortable with my voice and with myself.
I was also going through a very dark period with things like divorce, so it was about reaching out in the darkness. The idea of ‘mother’ and ‘father’ coming into one, and the concept of MotherFather being God, was something I was trying to reach for. It’s about how we often grapple with whether it’s Mother God or Father God. I’m not going to lie, sometimes I feel uncomfortable saying ‘Father God.’ But I also feel uncomfortable saying ‘Mother God.’ So, I think it’s like they actually cancel each other out, you know?”
MotherFather is subtitled “The darkness is comforting sometimes,” and this space is truly where Petite Noir shines most brightly. His #noirwave movement, which he insisted is about darkness rather than race honors Black expression, and its evolution despite historical suppression and appropriation; while reflecting on the ongoing struggle for Black people to reclaim their voices and redefine self-expression. Our conversation, despite the physical and virtual distance, only deepened my appreciation for #noirwave and the figure leading it, with his divine dalliance with darkness.
