Koo Kusi Is Creating Music From Neuroscience

Nana Kofi Kusi-Boadum, known as Koo Kusi, is an artist and scholar whose work bridges neuroscience and storytelling. A PhD candidate in biomedical sciences specializing in neuroscience and pharmacology, he researches addiction, an interest shaped by growing up around people who used substances and the complex social, cultural, moral, and religious narratives surrounding it. Through his music and projects, he explores these themes with honesty and depth, using art to translate science into stories that resonate with him.

Culture Custodian spoke with Kusi about balancing a PhD in neuroscience with his music career, and what listeners can expect from his upcoming EP.

For listeners who might be discovering you for the first time, how would you introduce yourself and your music?

I tell everyone I meet that I’m a storyteller. That’s really all I’m doing. I’m an introspective person sharing how I feel about things, and most of my stories naturally lean toward psychology, almost like the science of psychology flowing into art and storytelling.

People often describe my music as very introspective and vulnerable. I don’t hold back or hide anything, no matter how embarrassing it might be. It’s raw and honest. At the same time, it’s super creative. It’s one thing to say, “Alidu stole the goat,” but it’s another to build a whole creative world around that story and still get the same message across.

What initially drew you to hip-hop, and when did you realize you wanted to pursue it seriously alongside your academic career?

I didn’t actually grow up on hip-hop. In Ghana, I was listening to hiplife, that’s the genre I came from. I only started rapping because I liked how artists like Sarkodie sounded, and I wanted to sound like that, too. But at the time, I had no plan to become an artist. It never crossed my mind until maybe university. In high school, I rapped a bit, but it was just boyish ego, proving I could do something. There was no bigger vision. The first time it felt intentional was at university, when I was in pharmacy school. I joined an arts group that tackled social issues creatively, and that’s where I really learned how powerful storytelling could be when turned into art. Those years, around 2016 to 2020, felt like training grounds for me.

Just before I left to start my PhD, I thought, “What the hell, I’ll put a body of work together and put it out.” Even then, I wasn’t trying to be an artist; I just had something I wanted people to hear. But people connected with it. They encouraged me to do it again, and I did. And I’m still doing it.

Your project Addicts Anonymous explores addiction through a scientific lens. How does your background in pharmacology and neuroscience change the way you approach sensitive topics like addiction in your music?

My background gave me perspective. It helps me avoid speaking about addiction from a place of naivety or bias. A lot of public conversations about addiction are very black-and-white, good versus bad, right versus wrong. But if I’m someone struggling with addiction and all I hear is how diabolical it is or how much shame I’m bringing to my family, I’m more likely to hide it. And then, of course, I’ll go where I feel wanted.

Having studied addiction for four years, I understand how complex it really is. Stigma alone won’t make someone stop. People often need therapy, medication, lifestyle changes, even new environments and social circles. And sometimes they can stay abstinent for a year, but one incident can trigger a relapse. It’s far too complicated for us to treat it with simple-minded judgment.

That’s why, when RBD and I created Addicts Anonymous, we approached it from a non-judgmental, non-opinionated perspective. Even though I want people to get better, I have to be careful about how I express that. We wrote the project from the point of view of someone suffering from addiction, because I’ve come to understand that addiction isn’t just about substances — it includes food, phones, pornography, gambling, and so much more. Yet when people hear “addiction,” they usually only think of drugs.

And if you think about it, someone accusing another person of being a cocaine addict might be quietly battling an addiction of their own that they don’t even recognize. Studying the neurobiology of addiction has helped me translate these ideas in a way that’s relatable and accessible to a general audience.

The diaspora experience is central to your work, especially in Greetings From Abroad. How do you navigate representing Ghana while physically being in North Texas, and what responsibility do you feel as a cultural ambassador?

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve done enough to represent Ghana yet. I’ve mostly been in the lab, not out performing at open mics or actively sharing my culture. I only recently started trying open mics, but I still hold back, worrying people won’t understand the language or think I’m not good.

At school, though, our annual Cultural Night lets me blend science with film, music, and rap, presenting my work and performing live. It’s one way I’ve put Ghana on the map, but I know there’s still more I could do.

Your upcoming This Ability project celebrates Emmanuel “Clock” Amoako, the Ghanaian basketball point guard who overcame the physical and psychological challenges of anisomelia to become a national icon. What drew you to his story?

This Ability is my fourth project in a yearly series on mental health, each exploring insecurity in a different way. The idea actually came before 5 Foot 3. I’ve battled an inferiority complex most of my life, but other people’s stories gave me confidence.

One of those stories is Clock’s. I met him in 2013 at university. I was 5’3” and insecure on the basketball court; he had a visible limp yet played with joy and freedom, becoming the best on the floor. Watching him inspired me to tell my own story in 5 Foot 3 and promise to tell him one day.

This year, I decided it was time. One song wasn’t enough for his journey, so I turned it into an EP, This Ability. about disability and the mental health struggles that come with it.

What can we expect from your upcoming EP, and what advice would you give to other artist-scholars trying to merge their academic and creative pursuits?

If you’re expecting this EP to sound like my previous projects, you’ll be surprised. It’s a four-track tape built around one song: the intro is a choral, spiritual version, and the outro is the same song with drums and a hip-hop feel. The second track is a spoken word piece from Clock’s perspective. The third, and most important to me, feature Clock’s own voice for 6 minutes, sharing his story of living with a disability over a choir singing.

This isn’t a typical rap project; it’s impact-driven and plays almost like a documentary, with visuals for every track, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.

For other artist-scholars, my advice is to let both worlds feed each other. Use your research to deepen your art, and use your art to make your research relatable. Don’t rush to fit a mold; experiment until you find a balance that feels authentic to you.