Though it might not appear obvious to most, Durand Bernarr has inconspicuously undergone a pilgrimage of the music industry comparable to that of a veteran. His profile has received a boost in recent years, due to collaborations with some of black music’s most supreme talents including The Internet, Anderson. Paak, Knxwledge, KAYTRANADA, Ari Lennox and most recently Patrick Paige II whose latest single ‘Whisper (Want My Luv)’ features Bernarr alongside Steve Lacy and Allen Love. Those in the know, however, know that public record of his masterful talent and larger than life personality stretches back to as early as 2007. Under the moniker ‘alcoholharmony’ he became one of YouTube’s first ever viral singing stars.

Last September, Bernarr released his long-awaited new album ‘Dur&’, a body of work intended to represent the full scope of his essence - as a man, artist, lover, son and even as a competitor. “I was trying to piece together what a one-man show would look like. That’s the theme of the album. Opening myself up and revealing whatever is present in my mind,” the Los Angeles-based artist says.

This willingness to invite listeners into the fullness of who he is without any disclaimers or apologies explains why he’s branded the album as “Gangster Musical Theatre” - a new self-styled genre inspired by his theatre roots, and the unruly spirit of Rick James. “He had audacity. Rick had n*****rish qualities that were just so rude. I feel like that would definitely be me – but without the cocaine,” he says of Motown’s resident renegade whose fabled and rebellious persona is reincarnated on the humorous but boisterous tracks ‘Mixxed’ and ‘Summons’.

Bernarr’s decade-long friendship with Ari Lennox has spilled into a continually blossoming chemistry on record akin to unappreciated 1980s duo Rene & Angela. Their delectable duet ‘Stuck’, which follows previous collaborations ‘Facetime (Remix) and ‘Tie Me Down’, is undeniably one of the album’s highlights. Meanwhile Little Richard would serve as one of the album’s other anchors and guiding lights. Bernarr has come to refer to himself as “the version of Little Richard that religion did not get to.” As a man wholly in touch with his femininity and flamboyancy, Bernarr views his being as a proudly black queer singer as a way of avenging the lifelong internalised homophobia that ‘The Architect of Rock and Roll’ battled with.

Rather than deem his story a cautionary tale, Bernarr is re-claiming it as an avenue to resistance. “It’s because of his fearlessness to just be himself in the midst of a time where being yourself could have literally gotten you killed, that I can be who I am and all that I am.” Thus, it’s only right that he uses ‘Curiosity’ to put a spotlight on the taboo topic of male bisexuality. The true beauty of the song isn’t just in its 1980s inspired production recalling The SOS Band, Patrice Rushen and Alexander O’Neal. It’s that it brings validity to men who identify this way without being preachy. “I wanted to discuss things that had not yet been talked about. But I still wanted there to be comedic relief and have everyone jamming.”

For Bernarr, it was of the utmost importance that the album narrated experiences specific to the queer community. Underlying the sensuous quiet storm grooves of ‘Prepared’, is a story of two men about to engage in what he wittily terms “heated fellowship”, debating the matter of who would be submitting to the other. Remarking on the necessity to explore these very particular encounters in his work, he says: “Gay folks, and the queer community in general, have been getting their groove on to songs that are not catered to them. It’s nice to be able to provide that. It’s something that I’m proud of.”

‘Racket’ is most representative of the shaky journey Bernarr has been on to be recognised as an artist in his own right. Despite a more than solid musical resume and celebrity fanbase that includes Quincy Jones, Tyler The Creator, Ledisi, Michelle Williams and Lena Waithe, he admits it hasn’t been easy getting industry executives to take him seriously. “I've been told by people that have been in influential rooms that when my name has come up, they're like, ‘Oh, he can sing but we just don’t fuck with his music’.”

Consequently, Bernarr has now made lot of that music, which includes projects like ‘#BlameItOnTheMANGO’, ‘80s Baby’ and ‘Anxiety’ all unavailable to digitally purchase or stream anywhere. When asked why he felt this was necessary, considering he has die-hard fans attached to those projects he says: “I appreciate those that hung in there with me and appreciate the evolution of where I am. But I didn't want people to have an opportunity to be introduced to a previous version of me. A version of me that was in my mind the reason that I'm not where I am now.”

Insecurities were hastily mounting to the point where he considered suppressing all the elements that make him unique to conform. “I was in a space of where I felt like I needed to take on another identity in order for me to get my career moving on the trajectory that I would like it to be.” It’s natural that he wants to broaden his reach and audience, but Bernarr has fortunately figured out an appropriate balance that doesn’t require compromising who he is. “I know it’s a fine line to walk along but you learn to understand the right formula.”

Alongside Esmee Denters, Dondria, Greyson Chance, Alexis Jordan and Justin Bieber, Bernarr was part of the original class of singers discovered on YouTube. Bieber would famously go on to become a worldwide phenomenon. Esmee notably joined Justin Timberlake’s Tenmman Records and Dondria struck a deal with Jermaine Dupri’s So So Def Records. However, their albums would fail to meet commercial expectations, ultimately leading to an untimely plateau into obscurity.

Bernarr was lucky to have a parent with enough experience in the business to steer him away from rushing to take a deal at the first sign of interest. Growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, his father worked as a tour engineer for the likes of Earth Wind & Fire, Whitney Houston, Jay Z and Nelly. Consequently, he had the foresight to understand that the industry at large had yet to grasp how to properly market artists who came from the internet.

The big break Bernarr obtained instead was joining Erykah Badu on tour as a background vocalist. “She reached out to me herself and said, ‘You’re coming with me’. My wildest dreams could have not come up with that reality.” Spending the better part of a decade on the road with Badu has ultimately proven to be more fruitful than signing a deal. It has allowed him to travel worldwide, sharpen his skills as a performer and most importantly – network and form his own relationships.

And those very connections have indirectly taken him all the way to the GRAMMYs. ‘Freefall’, his euphoric collaboration with KAYTRANADA, featured on the album ‘BUBBA’ which won Best Dance/Electronic Album this year. This wasn’t the first album he’s been involved with to receive honours from The GRAMMYs. The Internet’s ‘Ego Death’ and Anderson .Paak’s ‘Ventura’, both collected nominations and wins. ‘BUBBA’ however, was the first one to list his name as a featured performer.

Navigating the music industry in his own way, at his own pace, with excellent gravitas to show for it, has proven that traditional metrics are becoming increasingly arbitrary. Though his contemporaries may have been groomed for primetime success, it is Bernarr who remains a prevailing example of how the internet can birth a long-lasting career. “I was able to have a different kind of fame. It was viral but it was like, he's been here for a while. We watched him grow up. That's like our cousin,” he reflects. Doja Cat, one of the world’s fastest rising stars at present grew up watching him. “It's crazy. I posted a cover of one of her songs and she commented saying, ‘I used to watch you when I was a little girl’. I was like ‘Damn!’”.

What is most compelling about Bernarr’s story is that though he’s been grinding for over 14 years, there’s still a sense that the best is yet to come. “I haven’t even scratched the surface of what I can do. I’ve only just found my footing in what I feel my sound is. So now I confidently walk in that.” All the dots are starting to connect, and people are finally starting to catch up to the eminence that has long been among them. And he’s okay with that. “You know, I don’t mind being a slow burn. A match goes out a little too quickly.”

Words Sope Soetan
Photography Davey James Clarke
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Published on 20/06/2021