The understated wonder of Brymo’s Bá’núsọ video

The man’s mystique means you are likely to fail at capturing some essence—or at least a fan would tell you so. Videos might succeed where words fail: the trick is to have Brymo right in front of the camera.

It was what made the video for ‘Down’ so powerful back then. It is what has worked for the new video for 'Bá’núsọ'. Both have the artist surrounded by darkness. But where he was narrating a story with political undertones on ‘Down’, he is giving advice on ‘Bá’núsọ’. The personal might be political as the 1960s slogan says, but the videos for both these songs offer separate commentaries on the individual and the community.

The director for 'Bá’núsọ', Victor Adewale, who has captured Brymo in several photographs, focuses his camera on the artist. Perhaps because he is primarily a photographer, Adewale fixes his camera, so that it is only the artist moving. It is all up to Brymo to advise and entertain.

The advice comes embedded in a lyric proselytising about privacy. For entertainment, Brymo has only his face and his very expressive torso, which is covered and only visible around the shoulders, as tools. “The camera loves Brymo and so would you" seems to be the video’s principle. It is Brymo’s self-love refracted through Adewale’s lens.

The video’s aesthetic is not only borne of the same vanity that has seen Brymo proclaim his own brilliance and greatness on social media; it is also fitting for a song about the value of introspection and the importance of keeping your own counsel. And it is not the first time a Brymo video has a thing to say about its song’s lyrics. As I have written in the past, the video for ‘Heya’ wasn’t quite successful in commenting on its lyrics and that might have been because the song itself isn’t one of Brymo’s best. But he achieved a union of meaning with the video and lyrics for ‘One Pound’, from 2014’s Tabula Rasa.

A song about Lagos, ‘One Pound’ erased the artist in favour of the city he observes in its video. With the new video, there is only Brymo, except for the moment the man bows out of sight. Watching the 'Bá’núsọ'  video in a dark room might emphasise an intimacy between viewer and artist but might also give an impression of intruding upon a man speaking to himself or conversing with his private god. I’m not quite sure about the use of slow-motion for some seconds, but Brymo’s charisma means even that doesn’t quite fall into kitsch territory.

The understated nature of the video takes the viewer back to the original intention of music videos: to bring the music closer to the audience. It is especially important in the case of Brymo that you listen to his lyrics. But feel free to spend just over three minutes watching the video, too.