Burna Boy’s “No Sign of Weakness” Struggles To Show True Strength

Ever since Burna Boy’s African Giant lost the Grammy to Angelique Kidjo in 2020, he has moved with relentless intent. Even after clinching the award a year later with “Twice As Tall”, he hasn’t once eased up on his artistic pursuit. But Burna’s global ascent didn’t begin with that Grammy loss or win. It traces further back to 2018, when “Ye,” a track off his “Outside” album, accidentally rode the wave of Kanye West’s album of the same name. That twist of fate nudged him into the ears of international listeners, and he hasn’t looked back since.

What makes Burna Boy’s albums compelling, however, is how often he sounds his sharpest when there’s a point to prove or a chip on his shoulder. With the exception of his sixth album, “Love, Damini”, each of his projects, including his new album, “No Sign Of Weakness”, has carried the energy and the feeling of an artiste pushing back against doubt, rewriting narratives in real time.

So it’s almost ironic that someone who has spent over six years reshaping Afropop history — with classic albums, international awards, sold-out arenas, and record-setting tours — still finds the need to reaffirm his dominance. But with “No Sign of Weakness,” Burna Boy is not seeking calm or comfort. He’s showing no signs of retreat, only renewed fire.

The intro track, “No Panic,” sets the tone for the album’s overarching theme of boldness and audacity. From the jump, Burna Boy enters with fire in his delivery, mirroring the song’s message of unshakable confidence. Over a syncopated, fast-paced, and scatter-brained beat, he chants boldly on the chorus: “Me, I no panic / No panic / Me, I no panic / Them dey whine me, I no panic.” He follows it up in the first verse with a chest-thumping line: “Get everything pass all of them / No know who dey gas all of them.”

On the titular track, “No Sign of Weakness,” he samples Ghostface Killah’s 2020 song, “Mighty Healthy,” towards the outro, blending it in with thoughtful precision. Burna Boy is often at his lyrical best when he gets introspective, and “Buy You Life” proves that again. The highlife-inspired track sees him question the value of wealth in the grand scheme of life, singing, “You dey chase this money all your life / All the money no fit buy you life.”

That same introspective streak continues on the mid-tempo “Love,” where he muses about the need for reciprocal affection. The mood then shifts on the pre-released “TaTaTa” featuring Travis Scott, which leans into the Brazilian funk genre. The title, an onomatopoeic slang for sex, sets the stage for Burna’s dive into hedonism. He name-drops Baltasar Engonga, the Equatorial Guinean who went viral after explicit videos of him surfaced, with the line: “Badder than Baltasar Engonga.” 

Still, Travis Scott delivers a crisp, perfectly-placed rap verse that complements the energy. Like “Tested, Approved & Trusted” from Burna Boy’s  “I Told Them”, Burna returns to sensual flows on “Come Gimme,” and keeps the energy high with the party-starter “Dem Dey,” which interpolates Lagbaja’s 2000 classic “Gra Gra.” On the latter, he cheekily references his trending scandal involving popular socialite Sophia Egbeju.

One of Burna Boy’s greatest strengths has always been his genre fluidity. Just as he tapped into Reggae and Dancehall sounds in the early days of his career, he returns to that soundscape on the slow-burning love ballad “Sweet Love,” released weeks ahead of the album. On “28 Grams,” he pays homage to marijuana, sampling Marlon Asher’s 2006 stoner anthem, “Ganja Farmer.”

The energy shifts again on the EDM-inspired “Kabiyesi,” a lively track that sees Burna Boy fully embrace a club-ready bounce. Even when rapping about money on “Bundle Bundle”, which skillfully  interpolates the beat and flow from Fish Go Deep and Tracey K’s “The Cure & The Cause”, he does so with unfiltered braggadocio: “When it comes to class, I be teacher / Chop this life, make e no chop you, my nigga / Half a million dollars when I smile for the picture / That’s why I don’t put no ice in my liquor.”

But the album’s most intriguing song might be “Empty Chairs,” which features Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger. Amid the album’s rage, confidence, and indulgence, this song leans into metaphor. Burna uses “empty chairs” as a symbol to explore different real-life stories. Jagger’s stirring vocals elevate the Rock-infused ballad to high art.

Similarly, the collaboration with Belgian singer Stromae on “Pardon” is a multilingual masterpiece. Singing in French, Stromae’s smooth, elastic delivery intertwines with Burna’s blend of Nigerian Pidgin and English, blurring linguistic borders and deepening the song’s melodic range. Before the outro track, there’s “Change Your Mind” featuring Shaboozey, which ventures into Afro-Country territory, as both artistes plead for a lover to reconsider their decision.

Like many of Burna Boy’s albums, “No Sign of Weakness” closes on a reflective and motivational note. The final track features a spoken-word intro and outro from an unnamed speaker who sounds like a preacher: “You are born to be great. Self-talk matters. Eternal talk with eternal significance is very important. Never say to yourself, ‘I am confused, I am a loser.’ No. But say to yourself what God says about you.” It’s a groovy closer that wraps the project in a blend of spirituality, affirmations, and rhythm that is true to Burna Boy’s ever-expanding artistic palette.

For an artiste who has built his legacy on fluidity—of genre, of identity, of mood—Burna Boy’s “No Sign of Weakness” is an ambitious continuation of his instinct to traverse sounds without borders. Across the album, he slips between Highlife, Reggae, Brazilian Funk, Amapiano, EDM, Afro-Country, and good old-fashioned Afrobeats with the ease of someone who cannot be boxed into any sound.

One moment he’s brooding over an Afro-Rock riff with Mick Jagger on “Empty Chairs,” the next he’s waist-deep in a bouncing Brazilian rhythm on “TaTaTa” with Travis Scott or flirting with highlife introspection on “Buy You Life.” The beauty of this project lies in these shapeshifting soundscapes.

Few artistes in global pop are as skilled at pairing voice with vibe. Stromae’s silky French crooning melts into Burna’s pidgin cadences on “Pardon,” and Shaboozey’s country twang dances over sparse drums on “Change Your Mind.”  These collaborations are strategic mood extensions. But nowhere is this more striking than on “Empty Chairs,” where Mick Jagger’s gravelly register breathes eerie elegance. It’s the kind of pairing that feels unexpected on paper but lands with clarity in execution.

Still, “No Sign of Weakness” isn’t without its flaws. For all its sonic daring, the album falls short in one crucial area: lyricism. Compared to the narrative layering and poetic sharpness of “Outside” or even the vulnerable edges of “Love, Damini,” Burna’s pen here feels unusually blunted. Much of the writing is reactionary with the songs built around the need to assert dominance, to push back against criticism, and most importantly to remind everyone he still runs this. But in trying so hard to show he hasn’t lost his fire; Burna often forgets to show his form and creative range.