Wiley: The iceman cometh

Wiley's sound, eski beat, stems from a time when bad luck made his heart cold. Things are cool now, he tells Anna Chapman

After several missed appointments, with an elusive Wiley living up to his name, the east-London MC and producer surfaces for an interview in a Brick Lane curry house. Flanked by two members of his Roll Deep crew, Wiley tears through a lamb bhuna, firing off thoughts in between mobile-phone calls, his accent flitting between cockney and Jah roots.

His new single has the suitably edible title "Pies". But it turns out that the track isn't about food. "Eating pies is a street expression for earning money," the 25-year-old says, gold glinting on his front tooth. "When I was on the underground, selling records and trying to get my name big, doing my thing, I called all the bits of money I made 'pies'."

The video for "Pies" was shot in LA and shows Wiley shaking his ass alongside bikini-clad babes. But rather than the predictable bling, Wiley grows comically fat, with the help of latex and cushions, in the course of the video. "I'm a funny person," he insists. "I like humour. I watched a lot of comedy when I was growing up - Mr Bean, Only Fools and Horses, Birds of a Feather." Below the steely street image is a man who can laugh at himself and loves cockney wordplay. Wiley may have spent his youth in Bow dodging the police and knife wounds, but that didn't stop him putting out a track with More Fire Crew's Lethal B on which his name is rhymed with "Kylie".

Two years ago, Wiley signed to XL alongside his former Roll Deep crew-mate Dizzee Rascal, who is a couple of years his junior. Dizzee's album Boy in da Corner came out first and earned him last year's Mercury music prize. Comparisons irritate Wiley, but today, at least, he's prepared to discuss them. "The truth is, my music isn't different from his," Wiley admits. "We're different on the mic, and his music is influenced more by a dirty-South hip-hop beat, while mine is more melodic and sometimes happier; but we both try to make music at different speeds with different sounds."

A Top of the Pops veteran - he appeared on the show with his old crew Pay as U Go Cartel, whose "Champagne Dance" charted at No 12 in 2002 - Wiley agrees that his music is more accessible than Dizzee's. Being commercial isn't something that scares him. Indeed, he describes the forthcoming Roll Deep debut album (due next month on Island) as radio-friendly. "We're being clever by giving them want they want, which isn't a whole album of eski beat. There are a few tracks that could be British hits."

Like that of Dizzee and the female MC Shystie, Wiley's music is frequently called grime. Although he refers to himself as "grimey" on his debut album, Treddin' on Thin Ice, which came out in April, Wiley prefers the tag "eski beat", which describes a sound and scene that he invented. "Grime is dark, big sub-low bass, mad stuff like Jon E Cash; my music is nicer to the ear. Grime has no feelings. It's just people making noise."

Powered by trademark sub-low basslines, Wiley's track "Eskimo" is the blueprint for eski beat. It was written in 2002 and inspired by a period, after the highs of Pay as U Go, when he fell on hard times and was feeling cold-hearted. He'd been thrown out by his grandmother and found himself sleeping on two towels on the floor of a rough flat. With pirate-radio support and endless plays at raves across the country, "Eskimo" became a huge underground hit. Wiley continued pressing copies until he'd sold 10,000. "Now, other people make eski beat, and I'm starting to feel warmer," Wiley says. But he won't ditch the name. After all, the concept is growing into an empire of icily named ventures, including his West End record shop, Avalanche.

Today, Wiley is back in the family fold. His father, who also makes music, has even been to his Eskimo raves. "They've been watching me make music since I was a little boy, and they respect that I've found my own way. I've always had a strong drive, but not always legally. I nearly fell off the path but I stayed on. I might have a few parking tickets now, but I'm straight apart from that. The police aren't looking for me any more."

Music has been a place for Wiley to bury his moods. "I'll make a tune after an argument with my mum or my girlfriend, and that energy comes out of me into the song and straight back out into other people. That's why kids go mad and fight. It's in the song, I swear." As a result, Wiley feels responsible towards his fans. "Kids listen and follow - that's why I don't put a lot of swearing in my songs. There's a time and place for everything. If you're battling with another MC, that's different, but I put positive messages on my albums for them to learn and find out. They may not understand now, but they will in the future." Interestingly, the only person who swears on the album is a woman, nagging Wiley to get his act together.

Alongside the reggae that his father played, Wiley says he was inspired by artists such as Kele le Roc, Beverley Knight, Phoebe One and, more recently, Ms Dynamite. "All the English black artists that have ever come to light, I've thought good. Now they see me up there and say the same thing."

But he is keen to point out that he's a self-made man who succeeded through determination. "When I wanted to get through, no one helped me, and I vowed that I wouldn't be the same. I will help other people. I've been doing raves for years and I've got a lot of power around the country. I could go to any ghetto, pick up a bad kid, and if he was a talented rapper or MC, I could teach him how to get out of that loop, to earn money, then go back and get his friends."

While Dizzee's poetic prowess has seen him likened to Tupac Shakur, Wiley has been labelled a businessman in the style of P Diddy. His plans for world domination include launching Eski Boy, Eski Girl and Roll Deep clothing-ranges, owning properties, becoming a millionaire, making a film of his life (which will include the towels-on-the-floor scene), doing TV ads and, even more off-the-wall, inventing an alcoholic drink. "I want to get everyone drunk," he reasons.

Mainly, Wiley is obsessed with being famous. "I want to go to a level where whatever I do, you're watching. People will feel like they know me, like David Beckham. His face is worth a lot of money."

Previously, Wiley has spoken of his fondness for country music, and more experimentation is coming. Today, he has been listening to Amy Winehouse and Alanis Morissette. "I listen to alternative music, because my ears can't always take hearing too much of one thing," he says. "I'd love to work with Alanis Morissette - she's heavy. I can see where she'd fit into my thing. I know what I'd want her to sing. I'm going to put it on as soon as I get back in the car."

Supporting Jay-Z at Wembley last year has left Wiley hungry for lavish live shows. "I want to do more than MCing. I want to do performance where I dance, talk to the crowd and play instruments, just like [Justin] Timberlake. I have to show them that I'm more than a computer boy who can make a tune." It looks like Wiley intends to eat many more pies.

'Pies' is out on Monday on XL