t £20,000, the Scottish Album of the Year (SAY) award is one of the most lucrative in the UK. But for this year’s winner Shaheeda Sinckler – AKA Nova – it’s about more than money: the prize is a vindication of her total self-sufficiency. The rapper is virtually unknown – she had only around 300 monthly listeners on Spotify prior to her win – but her coolly confident, lyrically deft debut album Re-Up is a deserving winner, spanning grime, trap, Afrobeats, dubstep and frosty electronica in collaboration with some of Scotland’s fastest-rising producers. It beat far more prominent nominees, including Lewis Capaldi and Anna Meredith, by capturing the spirit of the nation’s underground nightlife, but most importantly it cements Sinckler’s own identity as an artist. “I was listening to the album yesterday and just feeling really proud,” she enthuses. “I was reflecting on all the topics I talk about, all that negativity, and how I’ve been able to flip those stories into something so positive. It makes me feel amazing. Like I’m an alchemist.” Throughout Re-Up, Sinckler drops hints that she’s struggled to be taken seriously – both within the music scene and outside it. On the bleakly emotional Back in the Day, she reflects on moving forwards from complicated relationships, while the ferocious closer Trophy asserts success is the best form of revenge. “Yeah, there were people in my personal life,” she says, haltingly, “that have just not been … understanding. People that had their own agenda and expected me to do what they say.” Sinckler first got involved in the Scottish rap scene as a teenager, first in Edinburgh and then Glasgow. “Standing in between the electronic and rap scenes I felt like a bit of an outcast at first, like people didn’t understand me straight away,” she says. “Oh yeah, and the accent thing!” After moving from London to Edinburgh as a young child, Sinckler has kept her mum’s English accent – a factor that at first prevented her from feeling fully at home within the local music scene. “For some people, the accent’s just really important,” she says. “They didn’t see me as a Scottish artist, and I felt a bit confused initially. But now I feel solidified – or more solidified at least – in my Scottish identity.” Sinckler raps as Nova, produces tracks as Nova Scotia the Truth, and DJs as DJ Scotia. The sense of a “new Scotland” that runs through these separate but connected projects is shared by the likes of OH141 and Fuse, an agency run by Sinckler’s manager: a powerful new wave of innovative, inclusive club nights run by and for people of colour and the LGBTQ+ community. “Oh my God, it’s just so different now,” says Sinckler. “When I started, it was all run by guys, just white guys. Guys who wanted to get drunk and messed up, and it was just not very nice. Very toxic. But now there are all these younger artists that are just so sick; there are women now, some people are non-binary, all these rappers talking about actual emotions. It’s wonderful!” On Bread & Butter, a track that echoes the brassy, bassy charisma of King Krule, Sinckler lays out the unique sensation of getting paid for her passion: “I do it for the bread and butter / and the way my heart quickens.” But she admits that at first, performing in public involved a suspension of disbelief: “I’d be like, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” To watch her now, you’d never know – her steely composure and articulate, deceptively calm flow convey a sense of complete authority. “Yeah, some people say it’s like an alter ego when I rap,” she laughs. “I can be quite shy. But rap lets you represent yourself the way you want to be represented. You can add that little bit of salt and pepper.” Since her debut mixtape in 2019, Nova’s made an art of documenting this changing scene, taking her listeners with her from the stage to the club to the afterparty. But this late-night energy is something she’s now missing. “During lockdown I’ve been like: I can’t believe we used to go to clubs? And like, dance? Hug each other? Share cigarettes?” she says, incredulously. Sinckler’s currently locked in her house – a positive Covid test prevented her from picking up her SAY award in person – but the prize will allow career expansion. “I didn’t have money or access to professionals. I needed to be self-sufficient,” she says. But now she’s dreaming bigger without losing that sense of control: “I want a whole load of creatives on one project – makeup artists, stylists, a set designer, a videographer. I can pay people fairly and be like: I’m going top quality, 100%!” That said, her mum thinks she should push even further. “She’s always telling me to send my tracks to mad people. She’s like, you should send this to Missy Elliott!” Sinckler cracks up. “Oh my God, I couldn’t take the embarrassment. But, you never know, maybe she’s right.”