I’ve learned more than once that the world is small and that life (not only mine) is often guided by happy coincidences — and my interview with Peter Peter is the best example of that. I first heard about this Canadian artist in 2024 and immediately started following his work. Even though I don’t understand more French than just “merci,” it turns out that language is no barrier at all — the real magic lies in the emotions you can hear in the music created by Peter Peter. Recently, the artist has gained even greater popularity thanks to the series “Heated Rivalry,” which tells the love story of two hockey players and for which he composed the soundtrack.
[MOŻESZ PRZECZYTAĆ TEN WYWIAD PO POLSKU]
Barbara Skrodzka: “Heated Rivalry” is reaching peak popularity not only in Canada and the United States, but also in Europe, including Poland. When you first read the script and began working on the project, did you have a sense that the series could become such a success?
Peter Peter: I had a good feeling from the very beginning. The proposal that the director — Jacob Tierney — presented to me over the phone sounded exciting. When I read the script, I really liked it. We worked hard on every episode. I remember reading the fifth one and thinking, “This is great.” Now it’s one of the highest-rated episodes on IMDb. I felt it would be a good series, but being good doesn’t always mean global success. I didn’t expect it to reach an international scale. We were happy when it was picked up in Canada and the U.S., but then it just kept growing. You can wish for success, but you can’t plan something like this.
What do you think made the series such a success? Was it the story, the actors, or something else?
I think it was its distinctiveness and unconventional approach to execution. “Heated Rivalry” doesn’t follow the usual television formula. Jacob led the project very consistently and was confident in his ideas — the music, the directorial choices. He stayed self-assured and didn’t give in to outside pressure, especially from an industry that sometimes tries to tone things down to appeal to a broader audience. When you dilute those distinguishing features, you lose the show’s character. Jacob kept the vision intact, and that made a huge difference.
Which moment was the biggest challenge for you?
The entire process was a challenge, because it was my first time composing music for a TV series. By nature, I’m a bit of a lazy songwriter — I usually work on a looser schedule — but with a television project, that’s not possible. I had a very short time frame: once I received the final materials, I had about two months to write and produce everything. That worked out to roughly seven days per episode for composing, producing, and delivering. It was crazy! Those tight deadlines were the biggest challenge, but they also inspired me. I was excited by it.
Now parties where your music is played are happening everywhere — I even saw one in Warsaw.
It’s surreal. The series has become a huge phenomenon. In L.A. there’s a place called Club Nineties, where DJs come in and throw big raves. Now the theme is “Heated Rivalry.” They play my music there, and people send me videos. Apparently, DJs play the entire soundtrack — the full 1 hour and 11 minutes — before their own sets. It’s incredible! Since the pandemic, my audience has been growing, but it wasn’t a sudden rise — now it’s just exploded!
Is there a particular track from the series that’s especially meaningful to you?
The most special track for me is “It’s You,” the one I sing on. Initially, we were supposed to license a song from my latest album — “Lisbonne” — but the price negotiations didn’t work out. Instead, I created an original track for the soundtrack. Jacob suggested that I sing on it, which was risky, because vocals take up a lot of space in a scene, and if they don’t fit, it’s better not to sing at all. But the song practically wrote itself in about 30–60 minutes. It fit the scene perfectly.
How much creative freedom did you have while working on the songs?
I had complete freedom. Jacob didn’t impose anything. He would say things like, “If you hear a guitar, play a guitar.” I knew he had been following my work for a decade and that he liked my latest album, “Éther,” so I thought he might be imagining something more electronic, sometimes even leaning toward EDM. When he said, “Put in whatever you want,” I was even more confused. Jacob truly let me do whatever I wanted. It was liberating, but also a little scary, because you don’t want to disappoint someone who already likes your music.
I’ve seen that there will be a second season of the series. Are you already working on new tracks?
Not yet. We’ve had positive conversations, but nothing has been signed. In the entertainment industry, you can’t take anything for granted…
Writing music for a series is one thing, but it’s also worth talking about your own musical project, Peter Peter. While I was in Quebec City, I met Richard, who is a metalhead. He told me that you know each other and that you previously played in the heavy metal band Post-Scriptum. So let’s start from the beginning.
Post-Scriptum was a band I played in with friends. As a teenager, I mostly wrote a lot, and after high school — before I started studying film studies — I took a short break, so I mainly rehearsed with the band. The other guys were a bit like teachers to me, because they studied music. One of them, JP, took lessons at a music store. Every year, a concert was organized there, and we took part in it. At one of those shows, Richard showed up and asked us, “Do you have valid passports? Because I’d like you to play in Europe.” We thought, “Wow! This is really happening!” Richard was a very nice guy and gave us a bit of confidence, because in truth we had no idea what we were doing.
I was the first to move to Montreal. When I arrived there, I realized that my English wasn’t good enough to realistically pursue a music career. I felt enormous pressure. I understood that I was improvising a bit and that sometimes what I was doing wasn’t entirely honest. So I started writing in French, because that was the language I felt most comfortable in — but singing in French and sounding good was a completely different story. For at least two years, I was making music and writing lyrics that I didn’t actually like.
Eventually, I left the band. I decided to break it up and focus on a solo career, and shortly afterward I signed a record deal. Those were really good years. I never felt lonely — there was always a sense of community around us. We carried everything together: the pressure of making music, organizing shows. We didn’t have a booker. We called clubs and newspapers ourselves. When I think about those years, I don’t remember feeling stress related to music. I felt a light excitement before shows, but it wasn’t stress. It wasn’t a real career yet.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-1ax_nrQCA&list=OLAK5uy_lkWQdfEo2oHUHNzJnf1NC-MVtt8q7v60U
I had a chance to listen to Post-Scriptum’s first EP. You’ve got a voice! I’ve noticed that, especially at live shows, you sometimes still use it.
At that time, I was a typical screamer. My main inspiration was Nirvana and things in that vein. Actually, before I finished high school, I didn’t listen to Nirvana at all — I was more into the Smashing Pumpkins. But when I decided to learn how to play the guitar, like most kids, Nirvana became the obvious starting point. So I guess in that sense I was a bit of a boomer.
The other guys had different influences — they leaned more toward metal, very technical stuff, and that whole aesthetic. That created a slightly progressive, quite strange approach to songwriting. We had a great time doing it.
How did you discover that gentle, sensitive, and melancholic voice within yourself?
I think that melancholy has always been inside me. It’s simply part of my personality — I don’t think I’ve ever been any different in that respect. It probably comes from childhood and various experiences. It’s more a matter of temperament than a conscious aesthetic choice. I’ve always been naturally drawn to melancholic music; that’s how I resonate with music.
It was actually very difficult for me to find my voice in French, which is quite absurd, since I’m a francophone. At the time, I didn’t have many reference points that I genuinely felt connected to. The only thing that came to mind was a bit of punk — for example, Jean Leloup in Quebec. At that moment, it felt like he was the only artist who truly stood out from the rest. But you have to remember that this was still before the internet era — today we have plenty of great artists, but back then the music industry looked completely different. I think a lot of good things simply didn’t happen because the industry wasn’t ready for them yet.
I went through a long journey searching for the right intonation of my voice. I decided to stop pushing it so hard and started treating it more narratively, almost like a whisper. Aesthetically, it just suited me better. Writing lyrics was also a journey in itself, because writing a poem is different from writing a song. I had to find a way to make the words musical without them becoming too literary. Above all, it was a matter of work — like most things in life.
You lived in France for quite a long time — did you ever consider settling there permanently?
In 2011, I signed a contract for my first solo album and released it that year, followed by another album a year later — that second album was picked up by Sony France. That was the moment I moved to France. In the end, I spent about eight and a half years there. While living in France, I also released “Noir Èden,” my third album. After that, I worked on another record titled “Super Comédie,” and then the pandemic hit. At that point, I lost my record deal in France. During the pandemic, everything was incredibly stressful. Over the years, I had managed to earn some money from music, but when everything shut down, the situation started to cause me intense anxiety. The last few years were full of questions — should I move or not? At one point, I even considered moving to Lille. I found myself at a crossroads…
In the end, my girlfriend and I — she’s also Canadian, though originally from Ontario — decided to return to Canada. I felt that I needed to invest my money in something, so we first bought an apartment in Montreal. The place was nice but needed renovation. It ended up costing us three times more than we expected, because the prices of everything skyrocketed. In the meantime, we came across a house in Quebec City. I thought, “Let’s try — let’s make an offer.” We did. The offer was conditional on selling our apartment in Montreal. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d manage to sell it, but in the end there was a bidding war. As a result, we almost instantly decided to move to Quebec City. We really didn’t think it would happen — it felt a bit crazy. And yet, for the same price, we got a house three or four times larger than what we had in Montreal. It’s our dream home — something I never thought I’d be able to afford. And that’s how I ended up in Quebec City.
How do you find life in Quebec City? My friends seem to have very mixed opinions.
Honestly, I prefer Montreal. I love the parks there — especially Parc du Mont-Royal. It was a place I loved running in, even though it was about five kilometers from my home. I’d run five kilometers just to get there, then run around Mount Royal, and then run back, which was pretty exhausting.
Here in Quebec City, though, I feel like I’m living a life I didn’t even know I wanted. We live close to the St. Lawrence River, I have a dog, so I go out for walks with him every day. In the summer, I run along the river, cross the Plains of Abraham, and so on — all of that is part of my route. I really enjoy it. Sometimes you can definitely feel that it’s a smaller city, but it’s much better than when I lived here twenty years ago. Back then, young artists basically had no choice — if you wanted to build a career, you had to move to Montreal. Now many young people choose to stay in Quebec City, and that’s a huge change.
I can still do my job, go on tour, so in that sense it’s fine and I really like it. If I were choosing purely with my heart, I’d probably still be living in Paris, but I wasn’t earning enough there to live the life I truly wanted.
What about other cities in Europe?
Berlin is supposedly very expensive — at least that’s what people say. For me, it was also a financial issue in a different sense: I was still a Canadian citizen, and my banking situation was tied to that, so I couldn’t take out a loan from a European bank. I could have done that in Paris, but it would have taken years. Besides that, I used to fantasize about living in Lisbon. I also went to Tbilisi in Georgia, a city I absolutely love — I’ve been there twice. But realistically, with a job like mine, living there wouldn’t make sense.
I think I’m more cautious now than I used to be. I want to make smart decisions, but sometimes that means choosing things that are less exciting. A few years ago, I would have preferred living in a tiny studio apartment in Paris over a large apartment in Montreal. I guess I’ve made a decision typical of “adulthood” — I want to have a stable place to live.
To settle down?
To settle down, to have a dog. We’re not ready for kids yet. A dog is a bit like a child [laughs].
What have you learned from all these travels, musical experiences, and live shows? Did you gain any kind of wisdom from it?
I don’t know if I’ve become wiser, but I’ve definitely gained more perspective and learned that everything takes time. It’s like moving from one place to another — I understand that process much better now. I know what it’s like to move. Coming back to Canada was easier in some ways. I play really good shows here — all the most exciting gigs, the main festivals — and that gives me immense satisfaction.
I also know how hard it was to feel at home in Paris. For years, I was a bit of a drifter, living out of suitcases, because I didn’t have a place of my own.
Have you changed as a person as well?
Of course, but maybe that’s just time and aging… I’m more anxious than I used to be, but also wiser, especially when it comes to money. I used to be a really carefree guy. I didn’t take very good care of myself either — for example when it came to alcohol. Fortunately, I never did drugs, but I drank a lot and wasn’t afraid of the consequences.
Now I constantly check my bank account and worry about my health all the time. I take care of my money so I can afford to buy an instrument. But I don’t think that’s made me a better artist. I’d say I’m better at life, but not necessarily at creativity. Sometimes I feel like I’ve given up a part of my freedom — the free, young mind of Peter — in exchange for safety and a sense of grounding in life.
At some point, I started caring about things like having a nice apartment, listening to vinyl records — things that never interested me before. I didn’t even keep my CDs or books back then; I didn’t get attached to memories. All I had was a guitar, and I got my own computer very late. Now I have an apartment, I bought a turntable, and I’m slowly building a record collection. I have a lot of instruments and my own home studio. I’ve changed — life is a journey, and I’m now in a completely different country when it comes to my state of mind.
When you talked about not feeling “at home” in Paris, I felt something similar during my ten-month journey — but on the other hand, every place I stayed became my new “temporary home.” So it was two different feelings at once.
It’s an interesting experience, but at some point I simply got tired of it. I remember it was after “Noir Èden.” I went through a difficult breakup in 2016, because it was an important relationship. After that, I finished the album in Montreal and then returned to Paris. I remember asking myself, “Why am I even going back to Paris? What’s the point?”
And yet, when I arrived and was sitting in a taxi, I suddenly felt: “Okay, I’m home.” I stayed at my friend Toby’s place for two months, and then for the first time I had to find a place of my own. I rented an apartment in the 18th arrondissement, which I really liked. After viewing it, I gave the landlord a long presentation and then sent a detailed email explaining who I was and why it mattered to me.
When I finally got that apartment, something changed in me. For the first time, I thought, “I want to build something.” I lived there for years. Later, when I was already with Cassandra, we moved to another apartment literally a few doors down — from number 128 to 130. Around 2016, I truly stopped living like a drifter. That was ten years ago.
I think I was about your age — I was 32 — when that change began. But it wasn’t sudden. Besides, music is a profession where you never really know when your popularity will fade. Because of that, you have to be careful.
For me, my journey was something like a creative break from my “normal” life in Warsaw — a way to see which direction I wanted to go in, to learn a new language, experience new cultures, and then decide what comes next.
I understand. I think it looks different when you’re not in a relationship. When you’re with someone, you’re usually less inclined toward adventure. When you’re strong and young enough, you really have to do these things, because as you get older, you don’t necessarily want to go through all of that anymore — seriously. So as long as you’re in that phase, as long as you have the passion and energy to live that way, you should do it.
What is your girlfriend Cassandra’s contribution to your music and to the project as a whole?
Cassandra is a graphic designer, so I never have to wonder who will handle the visual side. She helps me a lot. Of course, the label pays her for it — she doesn’t do it for free. If that weren’t the case, I’d choose someone else or simply wouldn’t ask her. I usually pay people; I don’t like owing anyone favors.
As a person, Cassandra gives me a great deal. As my partner, too. I think we’ve supported each other through life’s ups and downs. I tend to worry more than she does, so she supports me a lot. She always gives me the space I need to create, and that’s incredibly important. Sometimes a relationship can feel almost like a prison — with her, it’s exactly the opposite.
So Cassandra works on the illustrations. It’s mainly about details like fonts and making sure everything is properly placed on digital platforms such as iTunes or Spotify. She always brings her own point of view. She has a very strong aesthetic sense, so it’s great to share ideas with her and hear what she thinks. Of course, she’s not always right — and sometimes I’m wrong. We don’t agree on everything. She’s always been a good spirit. She’s still very involved in the whole process. Maybe one day I’ll decide to work with someone else, but for now it works really well, because she genuinely cares about the project. She doesn’t work in the music industry day to day, so she does this because she enjoys it — and sometimes it gives her more creative freedom than, for example, working for a brand.
I love her graphics! Her work inspired the design of my tattoo. I also have a T-shirt with one of her drawings.
That makes sense, because I remember giving that T-shirt to your friend Félix, whom I see at my shows — it was really funny.
Cassandra also works on her own art. She’s doing extremely well. The mayor of Montreal bought an original drawing from her at an exhibition at Livart in Montreal. She truly has her own path and is very good at what she does.
When I was holding the Post-Scriptum EP, I noticed that you were already credited as Peter Peter. I thought the name came later.
That’s true — the name comes from a completely different time. From today’s perspective, I probably wouldn’t choose it. Back then, double names were trendy, and a lot of artists went that route. Years have passed, and I’m tired of it, because you don’t want people to think you genuinely bought into that trend. I remember when Robert Robert appeared — and it’s good music — I thought, “Why did you choose a double name, man? That’s not a good idea. You’re young, don’t do that.”
I’m actually in the process of changing my real last name, which is Roy. It’s my father’s surname. Even back then, I knew I didn’t want to use it, because he was never really present in my life. That’s why I’m taking one of my mother’s surnames — Jones — which feels more consistent with my first name.
Sometimes you end your concerts with a long instrumental track — you could even call it techno. I absolutely love it. I hope there’ll be more of that.
Honestly, that’s exactly what I’d really like to be doing. Sometimes the francophone scene wears me out — the whole context around it, even in my relationships with friends. I’d like to present something different, a more techno-oriented concept, maybe with some singing in English, or even without vocals at all — something more focused on electronic dance music. That’s actually what I’m working on right now.
I started out as a vocalist in a metal band, then became a songwriter, and now I’m more of a pop vocalist, but electronic music really draws me in. I’d like to dive seriously into that world. I actually have a project that was never released — it’s called Here to Talk. It’s an electronic project. I recorded an EP when I was in Paris, but I never released it. It’s good, but maybe it’s not the first thing I’d want to show people, because it’s more experimental.
I’d really love to release a first single that’s genuinely hard techno — that’s the kind of music I mostly listen to. I’m into dark techno, so who knows, maybe that’s the direction I’ll go in. I have all the material and all the gear I need to make it happen.
Artificial intelligence is increasingly entering the space of art — creating images, music. What influences your creativity and your desire to explore new sounds?
I think it really depends on my mood. Sometimes, when I’m in a bad mood, it’s very hard for me to sit down in front of a computer. In the past, when I was in a bad mood, I’d grab a guitar and play. Sitting in front of a computer isn’t particularly fascinating. It’s not the part of the process I truly love.
On the other hand, I work with a lot of external gear — sequencers and other machines — so sometimes I don’t even look at the computer. I just play around with the devices, and that’s great. I guess I’m a bit addicted to buying new gear. Over the past few years, getting a new piece of equipment has always been exciting for me. Even if I don’t end up using it very often, I’m still happy to have it. It pushes me to experiment. So I think experimentation is what most sustains my creativity.