Grentperez Makes Music Shaped by a Love and Longing for the Philippines

For Filipino-Australian musician Grentperez, music fills the spaces language couldn’t.

Many children of the diaspora carry a quiet longing. It lingers in language understood but never quite mastered, or in traditions held tightly in the absence of place. For Filipino-Australian musician Grentperez, born Grant Perez, that feeling shaped his childhood.

The memories hang in the air as Vogue sits with him in his childhood home in Western Sydney. He just returned from tour, but the day winds down as it always has; church at 6 P.M., dinner at the family table, and a sneaky açai in the thick of winter.

The musician’s parents migrated from Manila to Australia in 1999, shortly before he was born in Western Sydney. “The suburb I grew up in surprisingly lacked Filipinos,” he says. “At school, I was isolated and pretty much one of two Asian kids.” It’s a strange irony, given that Sydney’s west is home to the largest Filipino population in Australia. 

“Being Filipino had always felt rare; I yearned for the culture,” Perez reflects. “I knew it was nearby, just not where I was.” So, the musician sought it out: he ate at cult favorite restaurants like Mama Lor in Rooty Hill, chased the scent of inihaw near Blacktown station, and lined up at Starlight Bakery to try Sydney’s best Filipino pastries in Doonside. “It felt so surreal. Whenever I saw things from the Philippines, I’d be like, ‘Oh my God, we have stuff! This is us!’”

“Although, if I could speak Tagalog fluently, I don’t think I’d have this imposter syndrome,” he says. That tension between proximity and distance reflects something many children of immigrants understand,  which is a longing for connection, even when surrounded by markers of community. Especially when language, the most vital thread, is partially owned. “Not being able to speak it makes me feel guilty.”

The weight comes through most during his performances. Singing in the Philippines has become one of his most cherished experiences. “It’s such an honor. I love it,” he smiles. “They’re the rowdiest, cheekiest crowd. Filipinos just love seeing other Filipinos win.” Still, there’s an ache in not being able to give back fully in the language of his heritage. “I just wish I could speak Tagalog better,” he admits. “I want to show that I love my fans, my people, but I can’t do that through the language we’re supposed to share.”

Still, the 23-year-old honors his heritage in a way many Filipinos take pride in: singing. In 2022, Perez released an OPM-dedicated episode in his viral Sing You to Sleep YouTube series, and has since released covers of tracks like “Ako’y Sayo” and “Kahit Ayaw Mo Na.” Much of his early sonic memory comes from what filled his family’s home: R&B, OPM, and heart-wrenching ballads. “Filipino music carries the sentiment of love and loss,” he reflects. “And that hits me subconsciously when I’m writing.” He weaves Tagalog into his songs where possible, like in “My Heart It Beats for You,” where he rewrote the bridge: Para sa’yo lang tumitibok ang puso.

Touring for his debut album, Backflips in a Restaurant, deepened his pride. “Traveling has definitely motivated me,” he says. At Texas A&M, he witnessed the South’s largest Filipino collegiate event, where thousands of students donned barong and terno and performed traditional dances. “It’s all about upholding Filipino culture and it’s super inspiring!” But a moment that inspired him most was for a smaller event; his lolo’s birthday in the Philippines. Later, someone pulled him aside: “After you sang,” they said, “he told us, ‘I can die happy now.’”

In Australia, Perez’s tether to the Philippines takes a more intimate shape. He’s protective of the values he grew up with. “I don’t want to lose my manners, the ability to understand Tagalog, or the urge to keep learning it,” he reflects. It’s a tradition he hopes his nieces and nephews will carry. 

In the end, Perez’s journey was never about perfecting identity, but returning to the parts of himself that were always there. Through music and tradition, he speaks in a language shaped by longing and pride, and perhaps that is its own kind of fluency. After all, there’s no perfect way to reclaim a heritage that never left. 

See more exclusive photographs from this story in the October 2025 Issue of Vogue Philippines, available at the link below.

By MARKIEL MAGSALIN. Photographs by JOEL LUMBROSO. Styling by OLI REID. Vogue Man Editor: Danyl Geneciran. Talent: Grant Perez. Makeup: Felicity Smith. Hair: Eric Marom. Photography Assistants: Chris Polak and Max Dona. Styling Assistant: Koby Dulac. Production: Madelaine O’Laco.