Burna Boy’s fourth studio album African Giant will become one of the greatest of his generation. It is easy to see why. For what, amongst many, was a hard-nosed arrogant display from the artiste, it became a movement. He is Africa’s Giant, and he isn’t humble in acknowledging the fact. On the pre-album single “Anybody”, he sings, “Respect is reciprocal, even though una know say I special.”
Since that heavily publicized fallout with a section of people who believed Burna Boy was pushing his luck, he has grown in leaps and bounds. He delivered a classic performance at the Coachella, won the BET International Award, ahead of other notable nominees, prominent among which was compatriot Mr Eazi.
What, many have asked, has been responsible for Burna Boy’s recent overwhelming success on the local and international fronts?
An easy answer would be “Ye”, the song many people came to hear accidentally since a Kanye West album was named so. Post-Ye, Burna Boy dug into his Nigerian supporters (who’ve long maintained that he was underrated) acting as tour guides for the new listeners. Burna Boy had a stash of good music – to reduce him to “Ye” success would be nonsensical. From the man who delivered the “Outside” album which featured the likes of J Hus and Lily Allen was released. The album was Eurocentric in scope, serving the needs of Burna Boy’s newest fan base. It was salesmanship at its purest level.
Burna Boy’s subsequent releases would span genres and intended fan bases. As he performed in different places worldwide, he gave each crowd a distinct part of him; a part which, in all its differences, bear testament to the width of Burna Boy’s musicality, the genius of his talent.
His previous project (dedicated to his outside fans) was released barely a year ago; his latest is for his local fans, Africans in general and Nigerians in particular. Majority of his releases leading up to July 26th was Afrobeats–centred, leading critics to draw parallels to his two-faced quality: he reserves musical experimentation for the foreign audience; for the African space, Burna Boy is the “Gbona” and “On The Low” crooner, with predictable (in the most elevated use of the word) songwriting structures. For Burna Boy, balance is the key.
“African Giant” opens the album – a politically conscious, ego-driven, and character-heavy song. Mid-tempo, it plays into the Burna Boy style of relating himself as a metaphor for the larger society.
An essential part of being Nigerian is relating to the struggle, the seemingly everlasting search for money. And this, Burna Boy has, at many times, sung about across his discography. “Wetin Man Go Do” is a lighter variant to “Yawa Dey”, “Dangote” is a hustler’s anthem; namedropping some of the richest Nigerians, Burna Boy hints at their hard work as a motivator for his own pursuits. They belong to a class of songs that are deemed Burna-esque. To an extent, there are provincial, relevant especially to contemporary Nigeria and its youths. However, the African Giant is a universal beast.
By way of love songs, Burna Boy presents “Gum Body”, which features the budding Jorja Smith for a duet that is all at once eccentric and reserved. The title which is a Nigerian pidgin phrase is a confirmation to Burna Boy’s desire to be closer to the lover he sings about. Although drums-heavy, its lyrics play out like an R n’ B number. Kel-P produced “On The Low” also plays into this subsection. Burna Boy sings of lust in the most attractive manner, employing a simple (witty in its execution) structure. “Omo” is more complex, as Burna Boy sketches out a character we’ve come to know from contemporary Nigerian Pop: the I-don’t-care female hustler. Burna Boy sits just outside, promising her love. One of the few songs which hint at the vulnerability of the giant, Burna Boy does well to fully own the narrative voice.
The previously discussed themes (love and hustle) are the typical Nigerian artiste’s. Since Burna Boy promises something more, what makes him special? And what makes African Giant a much-heralded project? Simply put, it is Burna Boy’s flagrant sense of revolution.
From his fashion (the Coachella outfit) to his off–music interaction, Burna Boy’s character is a colorful one, his personality like a fire that refuses to be contained. No doubt helped by his Fela affiliations, his music has been influenced by the socio-political commentary that marked the greatness of Fela’s Afrobeat. Decades since the legend died, many have heaped upon Burna Boy (whose grandfather Benson Idonije was once Fela’s manager) the title of The New Fela. While many critics have decried the tag, it would be folly to not admit that like Fela, Burna Boy has driven conversations about these things.
“My country problem e pass Jesus,” he sings on “Collateral Damage”, a song which is heavily inspired by the Kalakuta king. He even samples “Sorrow, Tears and Blood”, singing “We always get reason to fear”. A full circle, it is a return to the intended reprimand – on “Ye”, he is misconstrued to have used it to praise the generation’s largely destructive live-life philosophy.
More intensely political is “Another Story”, which begins with a spoken word about Nigeria’s tumultuous relationship with the British. On his part, Burna Boy goes for the local politicians, singing “E dun tay we dey slim, dem shady.”
Star-studded “Different” delivers on its promise. Over bumping production, Burna Boy and Damian Marley turn in patois-laced verses which dabble heavily in social commentary – their strong voices are tolerant of each other and the back and forth thrives. Grammy Award winner Angelique Kidjo, whom Burna Boy sampled on “Wombolombo Something”, however, threatens to steal the show with a powerful rendition at the end of the song. Soft piano keys in the background, she paints an image vivid enough for even non-language listeners.
On “Show & Tell”, Burna Boy is Don Gorgon: he delivers line after line laced in braggadocio; feature Future settles in second place throughout the song, chipping in his affluence-stained vocals only to heighten the overall feel of the song. “This Side” sounds like a Maleek Berry song; no doubt UK Pop–inspired, it certainly was a drab moment in an album full of lively performances.
The album closes with “Spiritual”, another song which is driven by Burna Boy’s insistence to “face (his) hustle”. A weird choice for a closer, it is ambiguous in its wordiness – even before he dabbles into Yoruba, one wonders: what does he want to achieve with the song? In the end, Burna Boy pulls off what can, by some measure, be deemed predictable: his mother’s “You were African before anything else” BET Awards acceptance speech.
With his latest project, Burna Boy presents himself as an album artiste. Following the observation of critics, African Giant is an easy album to listen to. Unlike the DJDS collaboration EP, there seldom will be think pieces exploring whatever (insert a deep topic here) is Burna Boy’s fourth album. Don’t mistake this for carefreeness, though. Nowadays it seems every Burna Boy move is carefully planned.
African Giant is his victory lap, an album which is driven to the finish line by Burna Boy’s personality – that boisterous youthfulness is inherent in every track. And for the detractors, Burna Boy’s new album is a sort of assurance: his talent should never be in doubt, although in the past, via controversies, his overall PR has suffered. But now, with a diligent team working strategically with him, and his Pan African consciousness as inspiration, Burna Boy can make whatever music he wants and it will sell.
Ask any artiste: that’s major stuff.
