Fair enough. But audiences have a nasty habit of determining on their own what is and isn’t hip-hop. And for his amorphous identity, Novel languished through label rigmarole. Ironically, this shuffle mirrored that of his adolescence, a bi-coastal back-and-forth between parents. Eventually, Capitol Records, under the umbrella of Dallas Austin’s Rowdy imprint, made Novel a home. “Capitol heard my music and totally g ot it,” Novel beams. “They said, ‘We know you’re not just a radio artist. You have a story here that we have to build.’ They were the first label to say that.” So before The Audiobiography… moves a single unit, Novel is already a

smashing success. He’s here, he’s releasing music o n his own terms, and he’s found solace in his
own skin. Who then is the author behind the compelling Novel?
Born in Los Angeles, which he still claims as his home turf, Novel and his mother
Melanie Burke bounced from house to house, finally landing way over yonder in North Carolina.
From there, Novel moved to the unique creative nexus of Philadelphia. “I first learned how to
write songs in Philly,” he recounts. “I got put ont o Donnie Hathaway, Nina Simone, and stuff I’d
never listened to before. I was like, ‘Wow, this is real music.’ Philly’s got a different vibe, it’s
creative and soulful.” Ever the nomads, Novel and h is mother pressed on, with stints in Kansas,
Connecticut, Philly reprised, until their return to North Carolina. There, Novel’s placid veneer,
ground away by family unrest and the uncertainty of his life’s path, finally fractured. He was
kicked out of high school, and admonished by his mother to go live with his father in California.
Ironically, this move would impact Novel as much professionally as personally. See, as
Vice President at Motown Records, Novel’s father Mickey had A&R’d legendary acts –Marvin
Gaye, the Supremes, the Temptations—and written son g standards such as "Devil with a Blue

Dress On," “Dancin’ in the Street.” His shadow was long, and his reputation imposing. “I was
angry when I first met him,” Novel reveals. "I’d go back and forth between living with him and

my mom. Eventually I started getting into music more heavily, and we bonded for the first time during a conversation over music. We discovered we had something in common. I was closest to him when I was creating, because that’s all he knows. I figured I wanted to be closer to him, so I decided to use him as my manager, since those were the best times we had together. But he was tough; he made me sign a contract, and I had to submit a demo like anybody else."

Eventually, the working relationship between father and son fizzled, and Novel, his record in limbo, left California via car, destined for his sister’s home in North Carolina. Homeless and destitute, he reached out to longtime friend and now-manager, Dave Gates, president of Dallas Austin’s Rowdy Records. “So I’m driving and I call Dave, and Dallas picks up the phone by accident,” Novel says. “He tells me to stop in A tlanta and produce a couple records, to see what happens while Dave works out my deal. I was sleeping in the studio, and whatever checks I was getting I was sending to my kids. After a year there, working so much, things started picking up on their own.”

It was a welcome change for Novel, a man who’d once been signed as a rapper to benchmark hip-hop label Rawkus –"If you can’t rhyme , they aren’t signing you"—where he met lasting ally and A&R Mike Heron. Novel had also tried shopping separate demos to labels: one of rap, the other of song. He ignored repeated industry advice to concentrate on one genre at the expense of the other. Always confident in his ability, and just now galvanizing his identity, he kept busy producing and writing for some of the game’s biggest stars: Alicia Keys, Leona Lewis, India.Arie, Joss Stone, and Beyonce. Channeling principal influences Prince and Lauryn Hill, Novel was intent on authoring the next chapter of his life in his own voice. Finally given his chance under Dallas’s auspices, all of his creative energy, his long-germinating frustration, his very soul would pour into the aptly-titled The Audiobiography…

An ambitious record, not simply for its content but also that it’s all parts Novel: songwriter, singer, MC, producer. The Audiobiography… is entirely self-made, save a few collaborations with Dallas Austin, producer No I.D., and DJ Toomp. “Wild West” is a song/rap amalgam, detailing all-too-common childhood woes: a young boy bullied by his peers, a young girl born into a dysfunctional family: “Lisa/ Daugh ter of a preacher/her mother drinks and her father beats her.” Though cautionary tales like the se stand on their own, Novel knows a hip-hop audience may question his veracity. To that end: “I only write about things I’ve seen, experienced, or just conceived. And I incorporate other people’s experiences along with my own. I’ve had people in my family who’ve been physically abused. I’ve seen so much in the past— death, murder. In all the places I’ve lived, it’s a lot easier to find something tragic than it is to find something good.”

Novel merges his storytelling chops and ample life lessons on the striking, sweeping
ballad “Velvet Sky.” Stark, palpable descriptions—" blood stains/white chalk/ yellow

tape/someone crossed"—pierce the velvet sky, which to Novel is "a metaphor for a gloomy day, a

dark day." The entire song, though based in reality , is conceptual. And that is the unique essence of Novel. “It’s about a crime scene, and instead of being descriptive of the actual crime itself, I talk about the colors you see at the scene. It’s all about the colors, the red and blue lights you see in the ghetto during a tragedy. It’s a double-entendre about how beautiful colors can be.”

Elsewhere, “Song Cry” is an equally clever, two-fo ld reflection of Novel’s upbringing. “I sampled my dad’s music. It’s about me growing up wi thout a father for much of my life. I ran away from home a few times, and when I’d come back, my mom would tell me that it’s ok to be a man and still cry. With all the stress, I was trying not to cry, and instead I’d just leave.” But lest The Audiobiography… seem entirely somber, look to “The One.” It opens with ethereal, strummed guitar, and unfurls as unabashed uplift, pleading for peace and unity. “I was sitting in the studio, and I started thinking about previous relationships and things I hold dear to me,” Novel waxes. “To me, the song is about a relationsh ip with someone you love like a woman, but it can be about your kids, God, whatever else that’s important to you. At the end of the day, it’s just about bringing everybody together as one.”

With Novel’s resolve-testing past and zealous subject matter, he knows to expect instinctive labeling as a conscious artist. Fittingly, he’s unbothered. "I’m comfortable because most conscious artists get caught up and boxed in this one particular area, and feel like they can’t do wrong, they can’t make any mistakes. We’re all h uman; I have my flaws, I make mistakes, so I try to keep it, ‘This is me, this is my life, this is who I am.’ I want to talk about social issues but

also about women, having fun, enjoying life. I’m trying to bring it all together without being too contradictive— but that’s what makes us human, a little contradiction. I think its better when you’re vulnerable, so I let the world know this is who I am. I don’t mind being called conscious.".. read less