Novelist: Writing his own rules

“He's probably the biggest direct influence in my life.” Novelist is talking about his uncle Rukai, the man responsible for introducing him to grime in 2002 when the genre was still in its infancy. Novelist, real name Kojo Kankam, was only just out of his, but, while most six-year-old boys were spinning Beyblades, he was being schooled by his uncle on a genre that had one of its most momentous years in 2015. Watching MCs clashing on DVDs was part of his revision, as was experimenting with production software. “It’s obviously not the norm for some people, but if you’re from the ’hood, that’s just what goes on,” he says. “People reading this interview will probably be thinking: ‘What the fuck, why was he doing music from so young?’” That may well be the case, but who’s complaining?

In 2014, at 17, the South London-born MC was being compared to ‘Boy In Da Corner’-era Dizzee Rascal due to his raw, rigorous and potent lyricism on Mumdance collaboration ‘Take Time’. Released on Rinse, it was a sharply unconventional breath of fresh air and probably would have been grime Tune Of The Year had Skepta & JME not pipped them to it with ‘That’s Not Me’. Still, it earned him bookings all over, from Outlook and Sónar to Glastonbury and Alexandra Palace, where he joined Mumdance as support for Major Lazer’s headline show last October. The ‘1 Sec’ EP (another Mumdance collab) on XL was the follow-up release, with a collaboration with ‘Harlem Shake’ producer Baauer penned and a spot on Chase And Status’ London Bars project with ‘Bigger Man Sound’.

He might have kicked it with a duo who have transitioned from underground club producers into globe-trotting megastars but although “making millions for me and my people to enjoy” is on his wish list, he won’t be taking a similar path trodden to urban pop stardom by Dizzee, Wiley and Tinchy Stryder in the late 00s. Potential record labels teeing up a big-money deal – on the condition he waters down his sound for commercial gain – for the teenager can expect a similar response to someone cold-calling to sell fake payment protection insurance. “I’d block the number,” Novelist says adamantly, in the lobby of Shoreditch’s Ace Hotel. “I feel insulted that people don’t rate what I bring to the world. I don’t like people who look at me as a business plan. What I do is art. You couldn’t have made Picasso do something other than what he felt. At least let me make my art first and show it to the world before you try and put a price on it.”

Minutes before, he welcomed us with the type of greeting you’d imagine happens with his DJ and “go-to guy”, Grandmixxer. “Yes bruv! You good?” he beamed, his mischievous, explosive smile spreading from cheek to cheek, embracing us with a thumb-clasping handshake. While we’ve got used to seeing him head-to-toe in Nike tracksuits, today he’s swapped the sportswear for a look not too dissimilar to Mekhi Phifer in 8 Mile: head topped with a thick-knit beanie, upper body cosied up in a baggy, quilted Joyrich jacket and lengthy rosary bead chain around his neck, it’s an outfit screaming confidence. We already knew he’s got bags of it – “one day I’m going to be the greatest,” a recent tweet reads – and it’s even more evident when we ask whether his wish to stay independent could restrict his career possibilities.

“What’s holding me back?” he asks. “Some people say ‘Ah, you might not get big, you need more promotion’. Why do I? I want people to care about me. I don’t want to be shoved in someone’s face so they like me because they think I’m cool. The music game is mine to lose, but how the hell can I lose if I’m not a loser? I’ll only be a loser when I start doing what they [the music industry] want me to do.”

He speaks with the authority of someone who was deputy young mayor of his home borough of Lewisham when he was 16. The main hardship growing up in one of London’s most diverse, youngest and lowest income boroughs he describes quite simply: “everyone was poor”. But despite admitting to being in “a few mad situations”, which he laughs off when we ask for details, he says he’s blessed with a tight-knit family that a lot of others in the area don’t have. His father lives in Ghana but, growing up with his Antiguan mother, he remembers rap, funk and “anything that sounded good” being played during his childhood.

However, it was grime that became his real love early on, his uncle providing him with CDs and Lord Of The Mics and Risky Roadz DVDs, which featured the likes of Wiley, Kano and Ruff Sqwad. Before long he was messing around on production software like Reason, Fruity Loops and Cubase, eventually starting to MC at 13 with the full backing of his mum.

“She used to drive me to pirate radio. My mum’s on it,” he says, a note of pride in his voice as he describes early visits to stations such as Flex FM and Reprezent. “Now, if I say I’m going to Footsie’s house, she might laugh because she remembers when I was watching them on DVD.” You can see the merits of this training in a video of him energetically freestyling over M-Beat and General Levy’s jungle classic ‘Incredible’ on Toddla T’s BBC 1Xtra show in 2014. It’s experiences like that, and joining Mumdance on Rinse, Slimzee on NTS and Logan Sama on New York station Know Wave, that no doubt prepare him for battle live.

“He always impresses me as he doesn’t get fazed. It doesn’t matter the size of the crowd, or how weird the instrumental is, he always keeps on top of things,” Mumdance tells us. Characteristically, Novelist agrees, saying years of radio have made him the “best MC my age in the rave”.

It’s hard to argue as we witness his warm-up slot for Skepta and JME at Brixton Academy the day after our interview. Bandana tied round his head in true Tupac style, he bounds around with the exuberance of a kid high on E-numbers. “When I say ‘Nov’, you say ‘wait’,” he urges the crowd, an instruction the streetwear-clad ravers are only too happy to obey. His performance is so self-assured it’s easy to forget he’s the same age as most of the punters in the 5,000-capacity venue.

Part of the first generation to grow up listening to the London-bred sound, Novelist has been branded a “product of grime, musically” by Logan Sama, a DJ engulfed in the genre from the start. “We’re [the young MCs] trying to be better than the older MCs,” Nov tells us at the Ace, sucking up the last of his drink through a straw. There’s no bitter rivalry, though. He and grime kingpin Skepta, or Skeps as he affectionately calls him, “just bust jokes and chill” rather than talk music. Scroll through Novelist’s Instagram and it’s clear in the Facetime screenshots, all cheesy smiles and laughter, that despite a 14-year age difference, the two are tight. It was last July when both were, coincidentally, in New York at the same time: Skepta for MoMA PS1 and Novelist for the Lit City Rave show with Future Brown’s J-Cush. Nov ended up freestyling over Slimzee’s set at MoMA before Skepta and co arrived, and it was here he realised he had a following in the States who “care about the energy of the music”.

Grime might have failed to conquer America 10 years ago, but a whirlwind 2015 for Skepta turned the key for it to do so this time around. Kanye West called on the Boy Better Know man to gather a bunch of MCs (Novelist among them) to join him on stage at the Brits, and Drake, hilariously, got a BBK tattoo on his shoulder. Could co-signs like this, plus Novelist guesting on the Baauer album, initiate authentic grime music making a mark there now? “Yeah, but we don’t care about that,” Nov snaps, removing his beanie to show he’s swapped the Fresh Prince Of Bel Air high-top for a rounder cut. “It could get big there, but it’s not meant to. You see punk – that got huge worldwide but that was made for the people who didn’t give a fuck. It’s the same with grime.”

Last year’s video for ‘Lewisham McDeez’, a spoof get-together of fast food’s finest, is proof that Novelist advocates youthful fun and games, but there’s also a mirroring of punk’s no-fucks-given element. Spray-painting walls in the video for Ministry Of Sound-released ‘Endz’ attracted the police and, a few weeks after telling us he “feels like making a send” for David Cameron, he uploaded a devilishly chilling instrumental entitled ‘David Cameron Riddim’. It’s on ‘Street Politician’, co-produced with DJ Rashad and Machinedrum collaborator Nick Hook, that he really verbally assaults the UK prime minister, viciously unpicking his admission that “keeping people safe is the first duty of the government”.

Leaning over the arm of the sofa, carefully bouncing his iPhone off the floor, Novelist isn’t the most patient interviewee – albeit more dreamy than rude. But a mention of the UK government, Cameron especially, whips him back into life. “He just doesn’t understand. Stop acting like you get it. It’s OK to be a bit out of touch. Just say you’re out of touch. He’s never been in a predicament where someone’s pulled a knife on him for no reason. For him to be calling everyone thugs, he has to understand why people are the way they are.”

Having quit a music college course to focus on his career as an artist, Nov reckons that, for him, the time involved in the music industry has been far more beneficial and substantial than the hours spent in education. “The game’s taught me to spend time doing what you’re doing and getting better at it. People like Pharrell last forever because they sound good. I’m trying to be one of those guys.”

Maybe that’s why he says he might not drop an album for years, as if to ease the pressure on himself. That’s despite announcing last year that a self-produced LP was complete. He also says he doesn’t feel the need to perform on massive stages, but, bothered or not, he doesn’t have any trouble bossing them. Back in Brixton, he tests who’s louder out of the north, south, west and east Londoners in the cavernous, art deco auditorium, standing on speakers and coaxing bellows of “hell yeah”. The callous ‘1 Sec’ gets a rewind before Nov immerses himself in the litter of sweat-soaked bodies in the first few rows. GIF footage of his ‘Endz’ video blankets the back wall; there’s no danger of those unfamiliar with him not knowing who’s on stage thanks to ‘Novelist’ plastered across it in chunky white capitals.

It’s through that very name he’s intent on making a change for youngsters, disheartened by the continued closure of youth clubs (a 2014 report revealed 350 had been shut across Britain since 2012). “Some negative things that have happened to me probably wouldn’t have happened if I had more shit to do when I was younger,” he states, clearly angered at the blight of youth services. “As soon as they closed them [youth centres], the crime rate went up again.”

Equally uninspired by UK education policies, he’s passionate about dispelling the notion that the only path to fulfillment is glowing exam results and university. “It might sound like a cliché, but it’s part of my agenda to help people,” he says. “Like, I was never taught about tax and VAT and all of that stuff that’s really important in life. If I was mayor I’d try to enforce something in the education system that teaches young people how to be their own boss, rather than working for someone else.”

Confident in his ability and courageous in his plan to stay independent, anyone looking to meddle with his vision might as well think again. “It has to be Novelist with the Novelist energy and Novelist sound,” he tells us. “You can make millions being yourself. They just don’t teach you that because they’re scared to let that happen.”

He may be unhappy with what the education system taught him, but he was more than happy to listen to his uncle’s teachings as a six-year-old. Possibly the most beneficial education he’s ever had, it led him onto a life of grime and began the journey to his current status as the voice of the genre’s second generation.

Novelist 'Bigger Man Sound' with Chase and Status is out now on MTA Records. Catch him play Mixmag Live at The 100 Club tomorrow (March 3)

Dave Turner is Mixmag's Digital News Editor, follow him on Twitter