Though released to relatively muted fanfare, Born for Greatness, the new studio album from veteran reggae star Buju Banton, still arrives with great expectations attached. Banton was already the first artist to break Bob Marley’s record for No. 1 singles in Jamaica by 1995, when he released ’Til Shiloh—arguably the greatest full-length statement of the era in which dancehall dominated the Jamaican charts. That LP represented roughly what Illmatic did for East Coast rap or Voodoo for neo-soul—an artistic peak which simultaneously signaled a sea change for an entire genre. It is also like those records in the sense that Buju has been shadowboxing with its legacy ever since, producing a deep catalog of classic compositions, but never quite achieving an album that rivaled its coherence or power.
The opening moments of Born for Greatness—strummed acoustic guitar and an eerily echoed and sped-up vocal sample, anchored by a simple knocking beat—are a departure from Buju’s last outing, Upside Down 2020. That album contained a number of compelling songs, but it was almost as if he jumped erratically between styles and decades, attempting, perhaps, to make up for the time lost during his extended incarceration in the U.S. on highly questionable drug charges. In some ways, BFG’s spare, haunting beginning marks a return to the ’90s sound of ’Til Shiloh, which is a good thing: The skeletal beat provides the perfect bed for Buju’s gruff baritone, famously the most gravelly in a genre wherein booming, bassy vocals are a form of combat. Here, the recently returned Buju measures up admirably against his younger self.
The “missing” years of Buju’s imprisonment are the grist for “Ageless Time,” the first cut on Born for Greatness. It raises themes that reverberate throughout the rest of the album: the self-examination and doubt that arise from isolation, the powerlessness felt in the face of passing time. The articulation of these feelings will resonate with many listeners’ experiences of the pandemic, though the lyrics here and on “Yard and Outta Road” ground them in Buju’s humbling fall from grace during his trial and conviction in Florida. “Ageless Time” feels like a declaration that this album will wrestle with bigger demons than other recent work, and it’s also a formidable vocal performance. Buju chants seamlessly through the rhythm, moving between both raspy exhalations and unaspirated downdrafts, like the soundclash equivalent of circular breathing. The song was co-written by Stephen Marley, a longtime ally of Buju’s, and Marley’s unmistakable touch appears in its melodic lines and delivery, which function as a natural complement to Buju’s style.
