Whatever happened to positive hip-hop? Don’t bring up those third-rate De La Soul wannabes Black Eyed Peas in my presence because “Where’s the Love?” is corny. Don’t bring up Public Enemy because they haven’t made a decent record in 13 years. Don’t mention KRS-One to me because he’s spent his entire career in a perpetual identity crisis. Don’t talk about Dead Prez to me because their first album wasn’t all that great, and their second album was an embarrassing attempt to toughen up their image for mainstream rap fans. Common? No. Just because you slept with Erykah Badu doesn’t make you enlightened. Any hip-hop fan can name tons of artists whose music isn’t consumed by misogyny, materialism, or ultra-violence, but don’t mention them to me either because I’m not defining “positive hip-hop” by what it isn’t, but what it IS. I’m talking about hip-hop that tries to stimulate listeners’ minds while moving their bodies (and no, these goals aren‘t musically exclusive) by framing earnest and frank discussions about social issues within the framework of three-minute fusions of intricate lyrics and tight beats. Cyne’s Time Being fits this definition like a glove, and while it’s not on par with PE‘s It Takes a Nation of Millions (or even their Apocalypse 91), it’s a strident first step toward such greatness.
I must admit that Time Being’s intro, in which a computerized voice gives a state-of-the-world address that sounds like a more verbose version of “Where’s the Love?,” doesn’t bode well for the rest of the record. I mean, there isn’t much of a difference between Cyne’s “Children hate parents/Nations seek power to overcome the world at any cost” and BEP’s “People killin', people dyin'/Children hurt and you hear them cryin'.” Fortunately, Cyne bounce back from this early misstep by ensuring that the rest of the album avoids treacle. Emcees Cise and Akin spend the first third of the album asserting themselves as purpose-driven harbingers of a higher consciousness that was once present in hip-hop but is now lost. “Nothing’s Sacred” is a lament about how hip-hop has been transformed from a culture into a commodity. On “Papermate,” Cise and Akin rap about being compelled to write by a higher power (it is worth noting that at least half of the songs on Time Being contain direct Biblical allusions). “Steady” even asks the question, “Do you remember when Martin had a dream and Bobby had a regimen?”
The middle of the album finds Cyne shifting its focus outward toward the black community and society in general. “400 Years Revisited” finds the group alternating between militancy and confusion. One minute, they’re examining why revolutions are often accompanied by violence (“People don’t react until you actually start blastin’”), the next they’re pondering why they still feel bound even after the end of slavery. Album highlight “Samura’s Optic” is a bull’s-eye critique of hip-hop’s obsession with thug imagery, and how it only aids the mainstream media in making “ignorance synonymous with blackness.” (I find it a bit contradictory, though, that Cyne would write a song like this yet use the word “nigga” so liberally on their album. That’s a small quibble, though.)
On the final third of album, Cyne turn the focus back to themselves. “1st Person” and “Self Exam” detail, respectively, the formation of Cyne and the emcees’ childhood memories. The second verse of “Self Exam” is one member’s especially heartrending account of his parents’ divorce, complete with heartless and stupid interrogations from social workers (“Did your Daddy beat you? Who do you love more?”). “Due Progress” and “Out of Time” are paeans to spiritual growth. “Whether you’re praising Christ or Allah,” they rap, “there’s a spirit in the air that I’m trying to be a part of.” One thing that Cyne DOESN’T talk about, though, is how good they are, a subject that nearly every rapper worth his or her salt tends to devote AT LEAST half an album to. Cise and Akin have definitely mastered internal rhyme, and their flows are airtight, but they don‘t feel the need to impress listeners with outlandish analogies, punch lines, or insults. Their rhymes are so bereft of traditional braggadocio that they don’t mention their own names once on the entire album!
Many “conscious” rap artists pack their albums with weighty messages, but fail to attach them to good beats. Fortunately, Cyne delivers the goods sonically as well as lyrically. The other two members of Cyne (producers Speck and Enoch) construct simple but evocative loops that don’t reveal their nuances until the rhyming ends. “Nothing’s Sacred” consists mainly of the chopped-up sighs of a female soul singer, sounding slightly like a Prefuse 73 demo. “Samura’s Optic” is built off of a sample of pitch-imperfect guitar harmonics from a warped record, complete with audible vinyl static. The lopsided, off-beat piano and double bass on “Free” sound like Pete Rock gone psychedelic. Many songs are built from samples of what HAVE to be bubblegum pop songs from the ‘60s and ‘70s. Speck and Enoch could have easily put a drum machine on top of a Fifth Dimension song and I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.
Another strength of Time Being is its brevity. In an era of rap albums stuffed to the gills with pointless skits and half-baked songs, a 32-minute album in which none of the songs approach the four-minute mark (and half of them are under three) is a breath of fresh air in and of itself. Nowadays, it’s rare to find a hip-hop album that leaves me wanting more, but Time Being is definitely that. These four Floridians have constructed an alternative to mainstream rap without being corny, overly cerebral, or pandering to the lowest common denominator.
---Sean Padilla
Artist Website: http://www.cyne.net
Label Website: http://www.mustdelicious.com
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