For Amaarae, boring is always off the table. The Ghanaian American visionary has built a career on creative risk, flipping expectations of African pop on its head, welding high fashion aesthetics to cyberpunk sonics and earning cult status in the process.
In the two years since Fountain Baby — a sensuous, glossy sophomore album that demonstrated Amaarae's audacious creative instincts are a winning wager in the high-stakes game of pop — Amaarae has extended her reach far beyond niche acclaim. Not only have her gossamer vocals piloted viral TikTok anthems like "Princess Going Digital," "Co Star," "Angels in Tibet" but her live résumé now includes opening slots for Childish Gambino and Sabrina Carpenter, a history-making solo set at Coachella as the first Ghanaian artist to do so, and a recent appearance at the Governors Ball.
There’s barely any separation between the artist and the aesthetic; it all feels like a genuine extension of her point of view. Amaarae is just being herself, and her unflinching commitment to that self is what people everywhere connect with. But that was not always the case. Amaarae’s initial emergence was met with a degree of cultural discord. Her slinky, mercurial synthesis of R&B, Afropop and experimental electronica, and avant-garde visual aesthetic were outliers in a Ghanaian landscape more accustomed to certain sonic and stylistic archetypes.
That tension has softened over time and Black Star is a celebration of it. Named after Ghana’s national symbol and the global legacy of Black artistry, the record is an invocation of dance music’s diasporic roots, filtered through her distinct lens of futurism and fluidity. The sound is expansive, pushing itself farther into darker, more radical, experimental territory. The message is about power, pleasure, identity, and much more.
"A lot of young people see themselves in me artistically, and in general terms of expression," she says. "So when I think about identity, Ghana comes first, but it manifests in many different ways. Then there’s also the music itself, which borrows from so many different places I’ve been but is still rooted in my home."
In a conversation with GRAMMY.com, Amaarae talks about her increasing synergy with her homeland, why she’s focused on disrupting predictable narratives in African pop, and what it takes to make truly great music.
One of the strongest messages that comes through on Black Star is how deeply it reflects your identity, the different facets of who you are. Can you unpack each of those layers?
The reason I named this album Black Star is because when I went back home to Ghana last December, I realised that my relationship with my home country had changed. I was receiving so much love from people back home. That signified a shift, not just in perspective, but in what people wanted to hear and see from their artists. It was very refreshing. I remember when I started out, there was a lot of friction between me and the Ghanaian music scene or just the Ghanaian cultural landscape in general. People were struggling to understand me and why my music and visuals were so different. So I think the first layer is a coming-home-to-self.
By seeing myself reflected in the people who were now showing me love, I came to understand that we had reached a kind of mutual understanding. People had developed a desire and a thirst not just to know more and learn more about me, but to explore their own minds, spirits, and thoughts. They were beginning to want more from the musicians representing them. That’s when I decided I wanted to be a global symbol for Ghana.
It also acknowledges the fact that, though I'm a woman, I challenge conventional norms. I toe the line with androgyny quite a lot. And within Africa, especially as a very religious place, androgyny is an interesting thing. People struggle to place it in a box, and when they can’t, they either reject it or become curious about it. I think I’ve been able to break the mold and open up that conversation a bit more.
I love that you brought up how people didn’t quite get you at first, that’s part of what made you one of the pioneers of alté in Africa. That term has always been used to describe the scene you sprang from, but do you think that now it feels too small for your global reach? Have you outgrown the label?
To say that I’ve outgrown the alté label — one that was very, very key to me gaining the global exposure I have — would be insane. My last video, "S.M.O.," is alté at its core. It’s quirky, it pushes the genre forward, and it makes you think: What is this girl trying to say? Why is she saying it in this way? That, to me, is what alté has always represented in African music. People have often looked at it and asked, "What the hell is going on?" But I’ve always been intrigued by that.
Alté has always been the next frontier, the space that eventually informs what becomes the mainstream sound of Afrobeats. So, as long as I’m pushing boundaries and genres, I’ll never stop being alté. I just think it’s now on a bigger scale, where I also have pop star aspirations. But even those pop aspirations are, at their root, alté. I still carry the flag with me.The culture, the sound, the visual language, they all come with me. So, no, I don’t think I’ve outgrown the label. If anything, I think I’m giving the label even more visibility.
You’ve mentioned that you’d like to push the boundaries of African music with Black Star. How so?
This album experiments a lot with electronic genres but that’s not something new to Afrobeats or African music in general. If we go back as far as the era of D’Banj, P-Square, Don Jazzy, or even when Azonto was at its peak in Ghana, all of those phases in African music borrowed elements from electronic sounds.
I've taken it a step further, made it a bit edgier. The lyricism is still direct, but it’s also nuanced, witty, and intelligent. It touches on a range of topics, and… the sound is much more jarring and darker, but also bright at the same time. It pierces you. African music has traditionally been known to be very rhythmic, driven by the hips, very bouncy. I think, in a sense, I went in the opposite direction this time. And that was kind of my way of saying that this is what I believe the future of Afro music could be.
Naomi Campbell appears on the album, an iconic choice for sure. What drew you to her, and what did her presence bring to the project?
When you think about a Black star, there are a few people who come to mind specifically in certain areas. When I think about a Black star in music, I think of Beyoncé or Rihanna. When I think about fashion, I think of Naomi Campbell. My intersection with music and fashion has always been a big part of my story. It’s always been a major element of my music. And as I grow more as an artist, I also grow in my fashion.
When I was making an album called Black Star, and I was thinking about the intersection of fashion — especially on a song like "Ms60" where she’s on — who better to feature than the Black star of fashion, the woman — the darkskinned woman, mind you — that has pushed fashion so past its boundaries?
She’s connected through art, literature, and politics so represents everything that I also stand for: art, music, literature, fashion, politics. It was the perfect connection and collaboration, but also an incredible co-sign from someone I consider to be one of the most iconic people of our time.
How did the reception of Fountain Baby shape your mindset going into Black Star?
I was surprised by how well Fountain Baby was received, and I think it served as a stepping stone for me to tell my story even further. It didn’t necessarily shape my perspective going into Black Star like, Oh my God, I need people to like this as much as they liked Fountain Baby, or I need the same critical acclaim and success.
Every time I release an album and it does well, it just reminds me that my instincts are correct. So whatever I feel is my next path, or whatever medium I choose to tell my story through, I trust my instincts because people seem to respond well when I follow them.
Are there any alter egos that you channelled throughout this album?
Definitely. I think Black Star itself is a complete alter ego. You hear it right from the first song on the album. It’s not the Amaarae you’ve always known. This is a completely different beast. You can hear that transformation in the lyrics and the voice, expressed in so many different and interesting ways. Some of my favourite songs on the album — "Stuck Up," "Star Killah," "B2B," "Dream Scenario," "Free the Youth" — are all moments where the character of the Black Star, or the alter ego of the Black Star, really comes alive.
Your music has always leaned into unapologetic sensuality, especially when it comes to exploring female desire from a place of power. Why is that an important position for you to champion?
As far back as I can remember, when artists like D’Banj, Reekado Banks, Styl Plus, Sarkodie were really at their peak, it was always about the guy wanting the girl. Every time, "my baby this," "my baby that," "your waist this," "your yansh that." We’ve never really had a deep look into desire from an African woman’s perspective. That was what I felt was missing in the storytelling within the African music landscape.
I also think that for the desire to be palpable, to be sexy, to be unapologetic, it has to center women. But there’s a gap in that kind of representation. So I took it upon myself to say: actually, young women like me who are alternative, who are raw and edgy, have desires. They are sexy. They love to kiss. They love to f—. They have a sensuality and a desire within them that is tangible, and they want to express that in the best ways possible. That was missing and I wanted to be the one to fill that in.
Beyond musical influences, what non-musical things have been feeding your creativity lately?
One of my creature comforts is watching cartoons or television shows from when I was younger. I’ve been rewatching "Hey Arnold" and "Glee." My friend Lawrence Burney just released a book called No Sense in Wishing, I’ve been reading that. I’m still finishing a book of poetry I started earlier this year called Homegirls & Handgrenades by Sonia Sanchez. I also spend a lot of time reading music books and fashion books. I recently discovered a book — I don’t remember the title — it’s basically a collection of album covers from the 1970s and how they were constructed. It’s so fire. I’ve been into visual books like that.
I also stretch a lot for about 45 minutes maybe three times a week. I take very long walks, about two hours every day, for my mental sanity. Those are the things that keep me happy and creative. And I’ve recently started trying to cook again. I don’t really love cooking, but I’m doing it from a health perspective, so I’ve been looking into recipes. That’s what’s been keeping me going.
You’ve blended pop, hyperpop, alté, Afropop. Are there any sounds or genres you haven’t touched yet that you’re curious to explore next?
Yes, I want to do a gospel album. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. That’s been one of my main goals since I started. I want to do a gospel album, a Christmas album, and a jazz album. Those are the three projects I’m planning to do maybe sometime in the next five years.