Burna Boy doesn’t just show up — he takes up space. And at this year’s Met Gala which took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York with the theme Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, that space was tailored, powerful, and unmistakably African. Dressed in a striking custom creation by Ozwald Boateng, Burna brought the essence of Black elegance to life through fabric and, cut and presence. He looked like royalty. He moved like purpose.
For him, it wasn’t just about looking good. It never is. Whether it’s music, fashion or presence, Burna plays the long game — every move deliberate, every statement layered
From Port Harcourt to Paris, Lagos to London Stadium, Burna Boy’s rise hasn’t just been meteoric — it’s been transformative. With his genre-bending sound that fuses Afrobeat, dancehall, reggae, and hip-hop, he’s carved out a space that no one else can occupy. But beyond the music, it’s the way he embodies culture — in how he dresses, how he speaks, how he performs, how he gives back — that continues to redefine what it means to be a global artist of African origin.
In this exclusive conversation, he speaks on style, sound, storytelling, and standing tall in a world that once doubted him. From the creative process behind his Met Gala look to the depths of his new music, this isn’t just a fashion moment — it’s a full circle moment.
Interview – Konye Chelsea Nwabogor
Photo Credits – @nickieleerose
Hey Burna, let’s start with the look — you pulled up to the Met serving tailored power. What was the process like working with Ozwald Boateng for this year’s Met Gala?
Working with Ozwald was deeper than fashion. It was a conversation about heritage, energy, and presence. From the jump, we weren’t trying to create something just for the red carpet—we were building something timeless. Every fitting was a dialogue, not just about how I’d look, but how I’d feel wearing it. Ozwald came with a vision that understood the importance of Black excellence and African elegance. We crafted something regal, something powerful. It’s not just a suit—it’s a statement.
The theme this year was “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style”. What did that mean to you personally, and how did you translate that into your look?
That theme spoke to me. Black style has always been political, spiritual, and artistic all at once. It’s how we resist, how we shine, how we show up in the world. For me, it was about wearing something that told a layered story—one that started in Port Harcourt, travelled through London, Lagos, Jo’burg, and now stood on the Met steps. Let’s also remember that the theme for this year’s Mets draws a lot of inspiration from the SAPE movement in Congo. The tailoring, the choice of fabrics, the colours, everything was intentional. I wanted it to say: Black identity is global. It’s rooted. And it’s not asking for permission.
Why was Ozwald Boateng the designer you chose to bring this Met Gala look to life?
Ozwald has been telling the story of Black power through tailoring for decades. He doesn’t just design—he weaves legacy into fabric. For a moment like the Met, where designers must have a presence within the exhibition, the choice isn’t just about who you admire—it’s about who’s positioned to tell the story on that scale for this theme, this stage, and this message. Ozwald was the perfect fit. He carries Africa on his shoulders and delivers it with global precision. I knew he’d get it. And he did.
What was the one non-negotiable detail you insisted on for your Met Gala outfit?
It had to feel like me. Not just look like me—feel like me. Powerful, “Way Too Big” Regal without being forced. And most importantly, rooted. That’s where the cape came in. The eel skin detail, the structure—it gave it weight. I told Ozwald I didn’t want a costume. I wanted character. He delivered that.
You’ve worn custom Burberry in the past — how was this look different in intention, feeling, or story?
Burberry was clean, sharp, very British elegance with a dramatic twist. It was a strong look, but this one? This was different. This had roots, Ozwald’s look felt like it carried more than fashion—it carried lineage. It had echoes of history in it. And walking in that look, I felt like I was carrying everyone who made me who I am.
Your style has become such a powerful extension of your artistry. How would you describe the Burna Boy aesthetic today?
It’s grown with me. These days, I’d say my style is rooted in fearless expression. I wear what feels true to me at each specific point in time. Sometimes that’s silk, sometimes it’s prints or denim, but oftentimes it’s leather. My aesthetic now is regal, warrior-like, unapologetic, but not confined to any one definition. It’s balance. Grace and edge.
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From Port Harcourt to the Met steps — that’s a serious journey. What does being at the Met Gala mean to you on a personal and cultural level?
Port Harcourt is a vibrant, fast-paced city — rich with culture, vibes, and ambition. I grew up in the middle of that energy, where tradition and grind live side by side. So standing on the Met steps, dressed in something that speaks to where I’m from, it’s not just fashion — it’s full circle. Personally, it’s a reminder that no matter where you start, you can end up anywhere. Culturally, it’s about presence. My entire career is about bringing our sound, our style, our identity into rooms we weren’t always expected to enter, talk less of speak & shine in. It’s about getting into those rooms on our own terms & converting everyone in the room into believers, believers in our story, our music, our culture, us.
Fashion-wise, are there any eras or African traditions you find yourself constantly referencing in your style?
Yes—Southern Nigeria etibo, woko & all their derivatives, Northern embroidery, Congolese sapeurs, and definitely Ghanaian kente traditions. But more than eras, I’m drawn to spirit. The spirit of kings, of warriors, of griots. When I dress, I want to carry that essence. It’s not about replicating the past. It’s about honouring it and reinterpreting it.
Would you ever consider collaborating with a Nigerian designer for a major moment like this in the future? If yes, who’s on your radar?
Definitely. I’ve already worn many Nigerian designers—my first Coachella performance, my first Grammys—I was dressed by amazing homegrown talent. It’s not new to me. Tokyo James, Kenneth Ize, Emmy Kasbit, Orange Culture… they’re not just making clothes, they’re telling stories. It’s always about alignment—the right moment, the right message. And when it lines up, it’s powerful. You’ll see more of that.
Let’s talk music — “No Sign of Weakness” is coming. What headspace were you in while recording it?
I was in a space of reflection and defiance. This album is personal. It’s not just vibes—it’s lessons, scars, triumphs & experimenting with genres outside the box. It reflects on how people misunderstand strength. Sometimes being silent is strength. Sometimes allowing yourself to be vulnerable is strength. No Sign of Weakness is about the strength in standing tall, even when you’re tired physically or emotionally.
What themes are you exploring in this new album that you haven’t touched before?
This album deals with identity & affirmation. Not just where I’m from—but who I’ve become because of it. There’s also a theme of perspective—how the world sees me versus how I see myself. I am a firm believer in the power of positive affirmation about yourself; I am also more open to forgiveness, prayer, and healing. These past few years have brought a lot of triumphs, love, lessons, and revelations. All of this shows up in the music.
Would you say this new album marks the start of a new Burna era? Or is it more of a continuation of who you’ve always been?
It’s both. It’s like a new chapter in the same book. The message is still true to who I’ve always been, but the delivery has evolved. The sound is bolder in some ways, more stripped back in others. I’ve grown, and the music reflects that growth without trying to prove anything except that I am here to stay.
Your sound has always been layered — Afrobeat, reggae, dancehall, hip-hop. How do you decide what sonic direction to go in with each new project?
I don’t decide in advance. The music comes to me. I let the message guide the sound. Sometimes, it needs drums from Lagos, sometimes samples from London, and sometimes strings from Jamaica. It’s all about honesty. What does this song need to say? And what sound tells that truth best?
You’ve broken so many records — MSG, London Stadium, Accor Arena. What drives you to keep pushing past every limit?
I think the drive comes from my roots. I’ve seen what it means to have nothing. I’ve also seen what it means to have something and still feel empty. So I’m not chasing numbers—I’m chasing legacy. I want to leave something that lives beyond the charts. That’s the real goal.
Was there a moment when you realised — “I’ve actually become Burna Boy”? When did it hit you that you weren’t just playing locally anymore?
I think the Accor Arena show in Paris was a moment. Seeing that many people who barely spoke English were singing back lyrics in Yoruba, Pidgin, and English, that hit differently. But even then, I still feel like I’m becoming Burna Boy every day. The mission evolves, the limits get erased, we are still writing history & plotting the trajectory, refining, recreating the blueprint that my life & career have become.
You’ve become a cultural bridge — exporting African sounds and energy to global spaces. Does that ever feel like pressure?
It’s pressure, but it’s also purpose. I know I represent something bigger than myself. When I walk into a room, I’m bringing an entire continent with me. That carries weight, but it’s also my power. I’m not trying to water it down if anything, but I want to keep making the bridge stronger so more of us can walk through it.
What do you think makes Afrobeats — or Afrofusion as you call it — so magnetic to the world right now?
It’s real. It’s rhythm and spirit. Afrofusion reflects life—joy, struggle, energy, roots. There’s a pulse in the music that people feel, even if they don’t speak the language. And now the world is finally listening with open ears. The music’s been here. What’s new is the attention.
There’s a lot of noise in the music scene right now. How do you stay grounded and ensure you’re still making honest, meaningful art?
I unplug, I don’t follow trends. I make what feels right in the studio, not what’s moving on TikTok. I also have a team and family that keeps me anchored. I travel back home a lot, and that reminds me of why I started. If it doesn’t feel real to me, I don’t release it.
Your storytelling often feels raw and reflective. Is that intentional? Or is it just how you process life?
It’s just how I live. I write what I feel, what I’ve seen, what I’ve survived. I don’t try to make it poetic or packaged. Life is raw—so the music has to be too. I think that’s why people connect with it. It sounds like truth.
You’ve worked with artists across the globe — from Stormzy to Ed Sheeran. Who’s still on your wishlist for a future collaboration?
A few legends are still on my list. Sade, Elton John, Eric Clapton, Adele, Sting, and Kendrick. Some are dreams, some are in the works. I like working with people who bring soul to their art. I don’t chase names—I chase energy.
Looking back on your early projects like L.I.F.E, what do you think 2013 Burna would say to 2025 Burna?
He’d probably say, “You did it.” And also, “Don’t lose the hunger.” Back then, I had fire in my chest and so much to prove. Now, I’ve proven it—but I’m still that guy inside, well maybe I am more high maintenance now, but still curious, still pushing, still hungry for the truth in the music & life.
Outside of music, you’re building a legacy — philanthropy, fashion, culture. What impact do you hope people will remember you for 50 years from now?
I want to be remembered as someone who opened doors. Someone who spoke his truth and stood on it, built a bridge for reverse crossover, and crossed the world back to Africa—an artist who didn’t just entertain, but empowered. Whether through sound, words, or action, I want my legacy to be strength and freedom for African people everywhere.
Social media often shows us the flashy side of success. What’s the side of your journey people rarely get to see?
The solitude. The nights when you doubt everything. The sacrifices. People see the lights and the wins, but they don’t see the losses and the internal battles. This life demands more than it gives sometimes—but I’ve learned to protect my peace, and stay close to my core.
How do you unwind when you’re not touring, recording, or attending high-profile events like the Met?
Silence and nature. I spend time with my family. I look for water, the beach, a river; I walk barefoot. I eat food that reminds me of home. And I just be. The world moves fast, but I try to slow down when I can. That’s when I hear myself best.
Finally, you have become a symbol of strength for a lot of young people. What’s something you still struggle with that might surprise your fans?
Letting go. I hold on to things—pain, people, moments. Sometimes that’s where the music comes from. But I’m still learning how to release without regret, how to establish boundaries. I think strength is knowing when to hold on and when to walk away. That balance? I’m still figuring it out.
