Mereba and the pursuit of purpose

Mereba isn’t here to overwhelm you. She’s not concerned with fireworks or chasing trends. Her new album, The Breeze Grew a Fire, doesn’t beg for attention – it waits patiently for the right listeners to find it. “This album is about relationships that are consistent and soft,” she says. “Not the romantic, fiery kind of love. It’s about the people in my life who empower me without making noise. The people who feel like a breeze.”

But don’t mistake gentleness for weakness. That breeze, she explains, is what fuels her. “Those gentle relationships stir up my purpose and my conviction for the things I want to accomplish. They create space for me to be strong.”

There’s not enough music that celebrates the purity and inspiration that comes from lifelong friendships. This is a collection of songs celebrating those people around you. Mereba’s stories are personal and unique, yet also universal and reflective. She holds up a mirror not to make you look at yourself, but so you can see all the love that follows you everywhere you go.

Her approach to songwriting reflects this philosophy: no rush, no gimmicks. The Breeze Grew a Fire unfolds like pages in a journal, slow and reflective. The dreamy production thumps like footsteps on a quiet street. The melodies linger like thoughts you can’t shake. Each track is built for reflection, not distraction.

Mereba’s artistic gravity has pulled some of the industry’s brightest stars into her orbit – she’s a core member of Spillage Village alongside JID, EarthGang, and 6lack, and her voice graced Dreamville’s Grammy-nominated Revenge of the Dreamers III. She’s performed on NPR’s Tiny Desk, COLORS, and at the BET Awards, with her tracks featured on HBO’s Insecure, quietly weaving her way into pop culture’s subconscious. Mentored by none other than Stevie Wonder, she’s an architect of her own sound and something the industry knows is vital.

“I want this album to feel like things are going to be okay,” she says. “Not because I’m handing you answers, but because I’m offering you a space to sit with yourself.”

Mereba’s sound is an intersection – of folk, R&B, and something harder to define. Her roots in North Carolina, where she learned guitar from an old folk player, gave her an appreciation for simple, story driven songwriting. “He taught me how to fingerpick, and I just fell into it,” she recalls. “Folk music was about rebellion. It was conscious, political, and rebellious in ways R&B wasn’t. I wanted to write songs that said something.”

But the folk world didn’t know what to do with a black woman singing protest songs on a guitar, and the R&B world wanted her to fit into a mould she didn’t belong in. “It took many years of people being like, ‘this is not gonna work, this is weird. You're black, you're you, just go sing R&B,’ you know?” she reflects.

So, she carved out her own lane: “I had to put my foot down because I knew we were moving towards a more genre-less place. I didn’t want to chase what was already being done.” What emerged is a blend of her folk guitar roots and the soulful delivery of R&B – a sound that can’t be pinned down but feels familiar, like a story you’ve heard before but never quite like this.

“I see myself as a griot,” she says, referring to the West African storytellers who preserve history through oral tradition. “I want my music to be part of something larger than me. I want to tell stories that last.”

And who better to tell those stories to than her son – a life-changing arrival that defines the four year gap since her AZEB E.P. Motherhood has a way of rearranging your world, and for Mereba, it rewired her creative process. “I don’t have time to sit with things forever anymore,” she says. “I used to overthink every decision, but now I trust my instincts more. If it feels right, it’s right.”

This shift from analysis to intuition has made her music feel freer, lighter, and, ironically, more grounded. “There’s chaos in motherhood – things are constantly out of your control. But that chaos forced me to accept imperfection. I learned to let go.”

Her son has also given her new eyes. “Watching him experience life makes me think of everyone differently. Even the people I’ve had issues with. We all started as innocent kids trying to figure things out. It’s softened my perspective.”

This softness, this grace, isn’t a weakness – it’s her strength. “I’m not trying to prove anything anymore. I just want to create something that feels real and healing. Something that people can turn to when they need it.”

Her 2019 debut album, The Jungle Is the Only Way Out, was a desperate push to carve out her space in the industry. “That album was do-or-die for me. I had to make a breakthrough or figure something else out,” she explains. After breaking through with that record she became a constant voice that the industry couldn’t get enough of. Her collaborations with artists like Ravyn Lenae, JID, and BLK ODYSSY turned necks and forged a devoted following. She’s got one of those voices you’ll hear on a song and immediately deep-dive into her full catalogue. Her pedigree as an artist is well established already, but now she’s approaching success differently.

“I’m less worried about whether people understand every aspect of me as an artist,” she says. “I just want this album to exist as a companion to people’s lives, something they can turn to when they need calm or clarity.”

For Mereba, success isn’t about fame or viral hits. It’s about creating music that speaks to people without needing translation. “I’m not trying to be in your face. If you find this album, and it helps you, then that’s enough.”

This kind of understanding can’t be bought or marketed. It’s built slowly, like trust, like friendship. Like a breeze that grows into a fire.

Mereba’s The Breeze Grew a Fire feels like an offering. A reminder that we don’t always need answers. Sometimes we just need time. Time to sit with ourselves, time to breathe, and time to let the fire within us grow.

“I’m not chasing success in the traditional sense anymore,” she concludes. “I’m chasing purpose. And that feels like freedom.”