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Don't Sweat The Technique...

THE RETURN OF THE CYPHER

Freshman year, my high school was made up of two large concrete buildings connected to each other by a long overpass. When weather permitted, outside under the overpass there was always a scene to be made. From the other side of campus you could often hear the yells and screams of a crowd at least 15 deep. But for the most part, these weren't shouts of violence or hate; it was appreciation. Everyday at lunch and directly after the last period bell rang, I stood in the middle of it all. I watched them, I heard them, I listened to them. I loved them. Most girls gave me dirty looks from afar thinking that I was there just to be around the boys. But, to me, it wasn't about scoping out the cuties with the hoodies, fresh new kicks and fitted hats to match. I was there for the raw talent. I was there for the cypher.

Andre banged out a beat with his fists on a book, while my boy Theory hit em' up off the top of the dome with that good shit, that hood shit, that intelligent shit that his mind crafted out of thin air. Mackenzie and Sulé mastered the old-skool flow, magically finishing each others lines as if they had telepathy, and Butterfly Swift spit metaphors that left me dizzy with admiration. This was hip-hop in one of its purest forms: The Backpacker with the vast vocabulary, the Street Hustler with a true story to tell, the Older Cat who we all looked up to, the Young Buck who just started in the game, and the countless Hip-Hop heads who were there for the unofficial show all came together. All for one purpose: all to hear the some of the illest talent that has still yet to be signed. These were the days when a freestyle that dissed your girl or your mamma wouldn't end in gunshots. After all was said and done, bygones were bygones, and all parties understood the nature of the game. It was about the punch line, the immaculate delivery, breath control…the age in which words reigned supreme, and if you couldn't hold your own in a battle, you simply weren't shit. Now, many years later, I look around and notice the very apparent absence of this unique pastime. Long-gone are the days of "Oooh!!"s and "Whaaaaaat?!" echoing through high school hallways between classes. After "MC such-n-such" is finished with his show, most people are off to some after-party (or home), not huddled on the nearest street corner bobbin' heads and spittin' verses after being completely inspired.

I never was an MC, nor did I ever try to be. I chose to focus my efforts on poetry instead. Many would arguably say the two are parallel skills, with the "slam" being most comparable to the "cypher". But slams never had that rough, rugged feeling that cyphers evoked…at least not to me. Nowadays, there is no real cypher. Sure, you may find an MC or two still holding it down for true lyricists, but for the most part, everyone is too busy feeding into the corporate monster to take it back to the basics. Now I find myself searching for that feeling of awe, inspiration and envy. I want to transform back into that 14-year-old girl who sat on the bench wide-eyed while wannabes were verbally slaughtered by the masters of the craft.

Shortly before I graduated last year, I was in the lounge area of my small Massachusetts college-campus. I sat at the café counter, pen and pad in hand, headphones blaring unreleased Dilla, Dilla, Dilla, Beats, Beats, Beats. My boy Kazeem looked over my shoulder at my poem-in-progress and smiled. "Wanna battle?" he half-joked. He sat down next to me and began writing, making sure to stop all of our passing friends so that we would have an audience to judge our quasi-battle. As we went back and forth spittin' lines from our pieces, a strange thing happened. The place fell silent. The cooks at the café turned off the radio, t.v watchers left the couches and came to join the small gathering circled around me and Kazeem. Heads nodded in approval of each line, laughter filled the room when 'Zeem cracked a joke about wanting to get with me. The oh-so-familiar "OOoooh!" resonated after everyone's favorite line. For a split second, I was reminded of that feeling I've been longing for. It wasn't exactly the same, for obvious reasons, but it was just enough to make me smile with nostalgic thoughts of what once was…and what could still be, making me come to the conclusion that we are in dire need of the return of the cypher… Now who's with me??

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