Kenny Burns

For years the rap on Kenny Burns, the mysterious 37-year-old Atlanta resident, has gone something like this—people see him everywhere: At concerts, in boardrooms, disembarking private jets with an adult beverage in hand, at parties (especially at parties). He hangs with hip-hop superstars, leggy models, executives so fabulously wealthy and busy that their hair stylists do house calls. And yet few who know Kenny Burns and occupy his sphere of influence, which is considerable, actually know or understand what he does.




He works for nobody. He seems to work for everybody. He helped Akon land a record deal. He launched Wale’s career. He created a luxury clothing line called Ryan Kenny that put headliners like Jay-Z and Usher into bespoke shirts, popularizing the term “button up” in hip-hop circles. And on the occasion of his 35th birthday in 2007, Burns spent an entire weekend celebrating at the Versace Mansion with some of his closest friends–and got Belvedere to foot the bill.



For the uninitiated, Burns is…one of those rare, socially-gifted individuals who–with the unique ability to traverse a diverse range of social circles, and a keen eye for recognizing the potential for meaningful interactions–brings people together to make things happen. He is a dream merchant who brokers deals on Madison Ave…yet never loses cool points at the local barbershop. And just as Harlem Renaissance artists, businessmen, activists, and politicians appropriated the term “New Negro” to challenge conventional notions of black identity, Burns represents a cooler offspring: “The New Black,” a cultural armor defining a new space of creative expression and personal agency.



When I asked Burns to plainly define his profession, he broke it down for me saying, “I am a facilitator. I bring people together. I connect the dots.”



As a 19-year-old college freshman at Morris Brown University, Burns became one of the city’s most heralded party promoters, introducing unknown artists like Notorious B.I.G. to Atlanta. He helped launch Monica’s career. He moved to New York and learned about the record business from Uptown Records founder and Motown scion Andre Harrell. He ran Roc-A-Fella’s street promotions team in the wake of Jay-Z’s landmark release, Reasonable Doubt.



Along the way, Burns collected contacts. No introduction was insignificant. No business opportunity went unexplored. He did favors, stacked I.O.Us., and steadily rose through the ranks, becoming a Vice President of Mariah Carey’s Monarch Music, and then Roc-A-Fella, where he mentored the label’s impressive stable of young artists, including Kanye West.



The ability to float seamlessly from one circle to another, bring people together, and help them make deals is the Connector’s bread and butter. But there comes a time when every connector has an opportunity to step out of the shadows and become a visible, clout-wielding player. When the weight and gravity of their relationships makes them as grand as the people they’re connecting. Burns leveraged his relationships and experience and charm and distinct personal style—the very talents that made him an effective facilitator—and has become something else entirely: A brand. He has become a “lifestyle specialist.” His persona, cultural fluidity, and deep insider status have led companies like Axe/Unilever and Heineken to depend on Burns to help them market their products. He’s launched his own online radio program, The Kenny Burns Show and has hosted BET’s Black Poker Stars Invitational. He’s also the subject of B.U.R.N.S. (Be Ultimately Realistic & Never Sell out), a documentary set for release this summer. “If I had to break Kenny Burns down to brass tacks, I’d put it into once sentence,” he tells me. “I make it happen.”


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