Burna Boy Isn’t Overthinking His Crossover Success

At a party in Brooklyn to celebrate his new album, African Giant, the Nigerian pop juggernaut made a “surprise” appearance.

On Wednesday night, a line formed down the block and around the corner from the bar Lovers Rock in Bedford-Stuyvesant. The crowd was waiting in part to withdraw Burna Bills from a Burna Bank ATM, a kind of limited-edition merch that repurposed the art and politics of Burna Boy’s recently released album, African Giant, as currency.

The Nigerian pop artist had announced the opportunity on Instagram the day before, and the invite was open to those who were quickest to sign up.

The Spotify-backed event was designed as an album release party of sorts, but inside at the small, reggae-themed bar, it felt less narrow and promotional than that. The DJ asked who was born in Brooklyn, who was born in the ’80s, who was born in the ’90s, and who loves Buju Banton. That last query didn’t really matter; “Wanna Be Loved” would be played anyway.

It was sweltering, although not quite as hot as the heat wave that hit Brooklyn the night Burna played Prospect Park last month for a crowd of around 9,000. Maybe some of the attendees on Wednesday knew what was supposed to be a surprise: Burna would make an appearance. And if not, the fact that they came anyway is a marker of what kind of year it’s been for him.

On Tuesday, he did Trevor Noah after doing Jimmy Kimmel the month before. He has a solo track on Beyoncé’s recent Lion King compilation. He played Coachella in April. Burna’s been steadily releasing music for most of the decade, but African Giant crystallized a growing sense that he’s crossing over into a historically insular U.S. mainstream, without compromising his style or sound.

As night fell and rain started to trickle, Burna arrived at last, hoisting his manager’s young daughter into the bar’s backyard. Perched on a picnic table in a Bob Marley–printed shirt, he was soft-spoken but assured as he discussed the success of the album and the purpose of the evening.

“I’m just going to give you a few meanings of what you’re seeing,” he said, examining one of the Burna Bills.

“So this right here is three generations of my family line,” he continued, pointing to a trio of faces. “This is my grandfather, this is my father, and this is me. And basically this all represents the movement, traveling, Africans who walk from different parts.”

Burna’s grandfather was a manager for Fela Kuti, the Afrobeat pioneer whom Burna takes as one of many inspirations for a musical style that he’s termed Afrofusion. (He’s also cited DMX among others.) African Giant’s ambitious collage—aside from Afrobeat, there’s dancehall, hip-hop, R&B, and reggae—melds into an idiosyncratic and infectious sound. When a huge American star like Future appears on the album, it remains Burna’s song.

“I’ve never really been trying to cross over to anything,” Burna said. “My thing is more to come and bring people over to my side so they see the other side, so they see something other than what they’re used to, other than their comfort zone.

“It’s not about me being heard in America,” he continued. “It’s about the world knowing more about a people, a culture, a civilization, a very, very old one. The oldest one. It’s something that is bigger than me.”

Tunde Ogundipe, Spotify’s global lead of African music and culture, was also on hand. He and Burna have traveled in the same circles for years, and he pointed out that the influence of Afropop goes far beyond Burna.

“Turn on the radio,” he said. “Listen to pop music from any of the Western countries.”

The U.S. landscape may be catching up to him, but Burna doesn’t seem to mind much either way: His calm charisma has fueled both his crossover and his lack of interest in it. He hasn’t endeavored to change the shape (or language) of his music so much as he’s leaned into its charms.

Or he just doesn’t want to overthink it. “Just do you and then what comes to you will come to you,” he said. “That’s how I see life and that’s how I think.”

 

Culled from Vanity Fair