Jiri Taihuttu: “I grow, so my art grows with me.”

Text and photography by Will Falize

Styling by Tijn Bakker

Art Direction Periscope Agency

Special thanks to adidas original

Location by Stassen Hifi

You know them. Those people who never seem to stand still. Who keep reinventing themselves, without losing their soul. Jiri is one of those people.

Twenty years ago I had him in front of my lens and he said in a squeaky voice: “I’m going to be a rock star.” Today he drives to a rehearsal early in the morning, armed with that same hunger — but in a different guise. No longer a rapper, no longer a child of the past, but a mature musician in search of new sounds, new boundaries.

WILL: What drives you today?

JIRI: Hunger. Not for success, but for development. I want to keep discovering what else is inside me. Musically. Humanly, creatively and it never stops. Every time I discover or learn something new, I feel that fire again.

WILL: How do you see that hunger reflected in your work?

JIRI: I switch from rap to guitar, from night recordings to rehearsals at eight in the morning. Before it was chaos and more rock and roll, now it's structure. But the drive is the same. Only the form changes. And the audience feels that. It has to be real. Even if it's small. An acoustic gig for twenty people can be just as intense as a big stage. As long as it's sincere.

“My mother gave me discipline. My father gave me freedom.”

Jiri grew up in Venlo-Zuid. “We didn’t have much, but we shared everything,” he says. “That makes you resourceful. And it creates a kind of survival power that I still carry with me.” His father, a musician himself, involved him in everything: rehearsals, performances and financial matters. “I had to pay for myself after a show, even though I was only fourteen. He didn’t just make me stronger musically, but also business-wise. That trust he gave me — that felt like growing up in fast forward.”

But the bond with his father went beyond music or practical learning moments. “We weren’t just father and son, we were also kind of friends. He showed me how to turn your passion into your work, without it costing you your soul. And he never treated me like a child but always as someone with a voice, a perspective of my own. That shaped me.”

His mother provided rhythm and regularity. “She always said, ‘Jiri, sit down, practice.’ That was frustrating at times, but essential. She gave me discipline.”

WILL: How important was the family in your creative development?

JIRI: Everything. My father gave me space, my mother gave me direction. That combination made me who I am. You know, as a child I went to the conservatory, but I mainly had my parents who taught me the lessons of life. And that was enough. My brother and sister are also creative. There was just something in that house. Something you can't explain, but you can feel.

"No higher power, just the goal in mind"

Jiri's path went from flamenco to film music, from hip hop to alternative rock. A musician who keeps reinventing himself. "I see no point in staying stuck in one form. Then you're done talking. Art has to breathe. It has to keep moving."

WILL: Why did you actually stop rapping?

JIRI: Because I felt it was time. The form didn't suit me anymore. I had said what I wanted to say. I remember that moment at Pinkpop exactly. It was a farewell, but also an announcement of something new. I looked into the audience and knew: I am consciously closing this chapter here and now. What I am going to do now I will keep under the radar for a while. The surprise is part of the story. I don't just want to surprise people, I want to touch them. Really leave something behind.

WILL: What keeps you sharp?

JIRI: The goal itself. Not something abstract or spiritual. Just knowing where you want to go. And choosing that every day. I don't have a religion or a ritual, but I believe in daily dedication. And that's enough. It's not always easy. There are days when you doubt, when you think: what am I doing? But it's precisely on those days that you have to keep going. That's the difference between dreaming and doing. I've experienced everything by now, from flops to hits and through it all I can only say that everything counts in forming the character that makes us human.

"There are no shortcuts. Only honest work"

Besides music, Jiri has a love for football and clothing. No designer brands, but vintage finds. “I was in three thrift stores yesterday. And then I found snakeskin boots for twenty euros. That’s style for me: character, not price tag.”

His tattoos? “They’re not who I am, but they do tell the story of where I’ve been. I don’t need one to be me, but they’re part of my journey.

WILL: What would you like to share with young makers?

JIRI: That there are no shortcuts. Everything takes time. And mistakes. And falls. But that's how you grow. All you have to do is be honest in the mirror. Always. Don't be afraid to start over. That's when you learn who you really are. And work. Real work. It's not a fairy tale. It's sweating, falling, getting up. But the reward is real. And pure.

WILL: And where do you see yourself in ten years?

JIRI: No idea. And that's exactly the plan. As long as I keep creating, keep moving, keep feeling - then I'm on track. Maybe I'll be recording somewhere in South America with a local band. Or writing music for film. As long as it's real. I don't want to repeat, I want to surprise. Even myself.

The End.

Below is the photo I took of Jiri 20 years ago. I can still hear him say: Later I will be a 'ROCKSTER'