BNXN INTERVIEW: BNXN is entering a new chapter—refined, fearless, and more intentional than ever. In our recent conversation, the Afro-Fusion star spoke about his growth, musical direction, and the personal experiences shaping his project ‘Captain’. With a sound rooted in emotion and experimentation, BNXN continues to blur genre lines while staying true to his Nigerian roots. As he cements his place in the global music scene, this chapter marks more than a rise, it’s a powerful reintroduction.
Briefly talk to us through your early stages of your career. What musical influences inspired BNXN?
If it’s really early back, [then] what I listened to from my dad’s room—I have a strong Reggae foundation. A very, very strong one. I used to listen to Buju Banton, Lucky Dube, Yellowman, Bob Marley, I used to listen to Ninjaman too. I had a very strong Reggae foundation before I had a stronger Afro foundation.
So when the Afro foundation started, it was when I discovered D’banj, 2Face, P-Square, that was the early phase anyway. That was my Afrobeat foundation because finding D’banj and Olamide, I didn’t think there was anything better. Then it did get better, with the likes of Wizkid, Davido, and Burna Boy. That’s pretty much my foundation and my introduction to music, because I discovered Burna Boy [in] 2013, but I’d heard of every other person before then.
How often do you revisit your older work — and do you still connect with that version of yourself?
I listen to my work literally through other people because I move past certain emotions. It’s like every project has a feel, a certain emotional connection to me. That starts from ‘Sorry, I’m Late’, listening to ‘Sorry I’m Late’ takes me back to a place of – how bad do I want this? So I can’t even get it, then going back to ‘Benson & 97’, people play it, and I feel like that was better than the other project.
And then moving on to the last album, it’s like a whole vulnerable project. So I don’t necessarily go and spend time checking, but I do listen back. I do compare, try to see was this new one better than the last one? Making sure that in my head I have evolved, I have grown, and I have done something that can’t be compared to what I did before.
What’s one decision you made creatively that felt like a risk at the time, but now feels essential to your growth?
When I left my label at the time—this was around 2020 or 2021—a lot of people didn’t know I was signed to Burna Boy for some time. But I feel like I maximised mastering my talent and getting better at making music. Still, I wasn’t sure I was where I needed to be, so I had to have a conversation with him directly, and that was one of the most relieving conversations ever. He was very okay with it and said, “So far, you have a direction as to what you want to do. Just create.” That made so much sense now [laughs].
You and Ruger shocked a lot of people with ‘RnB’. Beyond the music, what did that joint EP represent for you personally and culturally?
Personally it was confirmation that collaborations are something that’s needed. It’s not something that can ever be put aside. Initially, when we first got our thing together, he was talking about how solo this, solo that. But he had to see for himself that the boundaries are so breakable, especially with collaboration. We need stuff like that.
Also, it just proves to me—I’m bad! [laughs]—but culturally, it still sticks that when two Africans collaborate to do something they both know they’re masters at, the results are going to be amazing. Mainly because they’re good, they know what they’re doing and I encourage it a lot. It’s one of the first of many.
You don’t often see two artists of that caliber—especially me and Ruger—we have our numbers, our fans, and our own doing and going on. But at that point, it was crucial to do something you don’t see. I know a lot of artists have prayed and begged for us to pair up and do something because they know it would make them very happy. But, for whatever reason, it hasn’t happened. In my books, if I want something, I try first, you know? So that was pretty much what it is. And ‘RnB’ is one of our most successful projects ever.
‘Sincerely, Benson’ is your most honest work to date — what pushed you to open up in that way, and did anything feel too raw to include?
Heartbreak—I was heartbroken. People never get to hear the guy’s side of the story. That was basically my own fault. ‘Sincerely Benson’, I did something really bad, and I messed up my happy relationship. I wasn’t the type of person to just let it slide like that. It was affecting my music because I couldn’t think about anything else. When I’m in the studio, I’m just thinking about a love that could have worked.
‘Fi Kan We Kan’ is everywhere — topping Apple Music, Spotify, radio. Did you know you had another moment on your hands when you recorded it with Rema?
[Laughs] Oh, crazy! When I recorded the song initially, even before Rema jumped on it, I felt like that was a smash! But Rema and I started talking—big up Rema, ‘cause that’s my dog—we started talking like the year before, mid-year. He asked me to send him some stuff because he wanted to share ideas. So he sent me some stuff, and I shared some ideas with him. Then on one of them, he sent one back that was like, “This is crazy.” And I’m like, “Yeah, boy, I want you on this one. I need you on this one. If you fuck with it, do it.”
Then I sent him the verse, and he didn’t waste time—it was like a day or two. He just asked me, “What’s the direction?” because he knew I was talking about somebody owing me money. I just said, “Just act like someone owes me money,” and I’m being very demanding about it. Yeah, so that was basically my concept for the song. And when he did that—splendid—it made too much sense. I was very, very happy.
In 2022, ‘Bad Since ’97’ had the biggest first-day streams for any Nigerian EP. What mindset were you going into on that project?
‘Bad Since ‘97’ was just a case of changing my name from Buju to Benson. I didn’t want people to feel like the name change was going to change anything, essentially. I wanted to show that this boy has really been about it since he was born. So that’s the concept of ‘Bad Since 97’— I’ve really been bad since I was born; that’s pretty much the concept.
Thank you so much for even reminding me, because those kinds of things I usually just brush past and move on to the next thing. But when that happened, I remember feeling super happy, I was just really, really happy. And it showed that there’s a chance to always make this music go far. There are people eager to listen. That’s why I can’t stop.
You’ve gone from ‘Sorry I’m Late’ to a streaming giant in just a few years. What grounded you through that transition?
Just dedication in my work and a little bit of vulnerability. Because I feel like me being vulnerable on my albums, like ‘Sincerely Benson’, gave people another side to me. They looked at me differently because I kind of broke out of the idea of animosity and just tried to be real. I felt like, for me to make that kind of project, I had never heard anything like that before—especially in Africa. Men aren’t usually that vulnerable with their emotions or try to communicate it through music like that.
That was really special for me and I feel like dedication is basically what’s got me to where I am and taken me to the height I need to be. Because I love this thing more than oxygen. I love music a lot, and I don’t see myself going a day without playing music, trying to make something, or recording something on my phone—even in my studio!
Do you still feel connected to the version of yourself who dropped ‘Sorry I’m Late’? Or have you outgrown that era entirely?
[Laughs] Oh no, ‘Sorry I’m Late’ is my oath to say I should have been in this, I should have started doing this a little earlier than I did, but it phases in stages. I can’t compare how secondary school was to university, or university to real life, it’s all in stages, and I’m enjoying everything. ‘Sorry I’m Late’ was a stage—a phase of beginnings and growth. ‘Bad Since 97’ is basically just showing more growth. ‘Sincerely Benson’ is vulnerable, and it just shows like, I know how to communicate with music. I think this new one, ‘Captain’, is mastery, because I’ve mastered so much now.
Which of your collaborations felt the most creatively fulfilling — not just successful, but something that pushed you forward artistically?
It’s going to be on this new album. But if it’s off something I’ve dropped before, I’d say ‘Propeller’ with Dave. Because I was in Lagos when I recorded that song. I didn’t even know Dave was going to jump on it. But Jae5 came to Lagos—before he came to Lagos, he was on Twitter like, “I’m coming to Lagos, Nigeria, who should I work with?” He put out a tweet like that, and everybody was just replying, “Benson, Benson, Benson!”
I’m like, if you do, it’s going to be crazy man [laughs]. So he calls me up to come to the studio, I get there, and that’s one of the two or three songs we made that night. The voicenote of that studio session still blows my mind today. He knew we had a hit straight away, I was just vibing [laughs].
You’re now a multi-platinum artist, charting in the UK, U.S., Ghana, Nigeria. When did it hit you that your sound wasn’t just local, it was global?
I still make local music, man. [Laughs] That’s something I’m not changing. My fans back home want that sound—they don’t always care about the global vibe. I try to go global when I step out of my comfort zone, but I believe in doing it with the local sound. It’s worked for my peers, and it can work for me too.
When I dropped the project with Ruger, I made sure to bring back those local vibes—like on ‘RnB’, where I’m speaking a lot of Yoruba. That was me connecting with my home fanbase. ‘Propeller’ and ‘Finesse’ helped me bridge to a global audience, but I still believe in the local sound. I want to be everywhere, but I won’t lose where I come from.
You’ve been labeled Nigeria’s King of Melodies. Is that a title you embrace — or one you feel pressure to live up to?
There’s no pressure in the game, man. I’m blessed to feel like that because I try, I just try my field, man.
What’s the first meal you crave once you’re off tour and back home?
Back in Lagos? Rice and stew, that’s the best food in Nigeria. Basmati rice and stew; amazing.
You’ve had some deeply emotional records. Do you write to heal, or do you find clarity after the music is done?
Both of them. I like to free my head of certain emotions so I can just listen to the feeling again. Like in that song with pidgin and English—I didn’t set out to make a song like that, but I felt like my apology needed to be louder, more public. So I had to make that music, basically saying sorry not just to one person but to everyone. Then when the sun comes out, it’s like clarity, fulfilment. Like that feeling is done, and I’m ready to move on to the next one.
How do you recharge when you’ve been around too many people or in too many cities?
I like to unwind a lot with my friends. If I’m on tour or on the road for a long time, you’ll probably see me hitting the club with the people I’m traveling with. But I also love to sleep a lot. When I’m up, I’m up, but when I want to sleep, I’m out for a while.
To close, with everything you’ve achieved — what’s still driving you right now? What’s next for BNXN that fans haven’t seen yet?
Billions! [Laughs] That’s what’s driving my financial sense. But I’m really chasing fulfilment, man. I’ve achieved a lot, and I’m grateful to God. Still, there’s a level of fulfilment I want to reach—boxes to tick, places to see, new experiences to share with my fans every two or three years. I want people to say, “Why is this guy doing what he’s doing?” I’m chasing that next level of fulfilment. I want it all, but at the same time, I’m very content; It’s crazy.
Words by Nickeeba Archer
