They were right: our next job was in “CYBAH”…
[Video]
[6.75]
Leah Isobel: Syd sings with such lightness and softness that she counterintuitively projects confidence, so when she claims vulnerability, it’s the kind that indicates a deep well of self-knowledge. The sexiest kind, in other words. The ambivalent wording of the chorus and the endlessly ascendant, stop-start beat are too controlled and purposeful to imply anxiety. Rather, they imply a desire for anxiety, like Syd wants the things she knows about herself to become less clear. I tug at my collar.
[8]
Jibril Yassin: A languid, meandering beat that tries to recall Prince with its velvet feel. Syd can play the role of the vulnerable one well but that — along with a killer vocal from Lucky Daye — isn’t enough to elevate this from feeling stuck in motion.
[5]
Alfred Soto: Another homage to a throwback: Blood Orange doing Prince-in-1985. Not charmless, but I’m ready for the Babyface throwbacks.
[5]
Harlan Talib Ockey: It’s hard to find anything new to say about another ’80s pastiche — I personally expended the last of my energy in this realm on John Mayer a few weeks ago — but I think it’s the charm of the primitive technology that makes the concept work this time. The gated reverb and slightly warped guitar loop sound like a portal to an alternate universe that’s free of the stress of modern life, where the only possible focus is the narrator’s uncertainty. This is a song that doesn’t know about emails. Once we’re submerged, it’s clear that the superstar of “CYBAH” is Syd’s phrasing. The minuscule pause in the chorus before “if I asked you” is absolutely devastating, preloading the following line with seemingly infinite emotional weight. Lucky Daye is thoroughly outshined; the vocal processing forces a firm limit on his degree of expressiveness, and it’d be difficult to contend with Syd’s performance here anyway.
[8]
Joshua Lu: Sumptuous and shimmering, but meanders a little too much and goes on a little too long. The bridge with their combined vocals and Syd’s ramped-up refrain are great payoffs, and the song could have been tightened around this closing burst of energy.
[6]
Ian Mathers: I know the album’s theme is heartbreak, but here on its opening track “could you break a heart… if I asked you?” is cooed so sweetly that it doesn’t sound weighty at all; just a trifle, a teensy tiny favour, surely nothing too consequential. Keeping the heaviness and maybe even the menace of the request in the subtext works surprisingly well.
[7]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: This style of contemporary R&B — futurist quiet storm mid-tempo numbers, muted to the extreme — is almost intentionally low-key and homogeneous. It’s not quite streambait in that Syd & Lucky Daye are both too distinctive as vocal presences to achieve true playlistable anonymity, but the things that make “CYBAH” good are really only perceptible when placed in contrast to poorer examples of the genre — the Kehlani/Yung Bleu song we covered a few weeks ago, for example. Where so many songs in this lane fade into smoothness and absence, “CYBAH” is halting and unsteady, the electro-funk beat stopping and starting like some kind of damaged automaton. Syd and Lucky Daye know what to do over a beat like this — their melodies are silken but maintain a phantom edge, taking what could have been a rote genre exercise and making it something distinct.
[7]
Vikram Joseph: So many songs strive so hard for this exact vibe that it seems almost unfair for Syd to make it sound entirely effortless. “CYBAH” sounds breathless and sublime — icy bass, sultry bursts of processed guitar, Syd’s most pillowy, vulnerable vocal and a perfectly understated cameo from Lucky Daye. You could criticise them for not pushing “CYBAH” into more adventurous territory, but if your comfort zone is this idyllic you can hardly be expected to leave it.
[8]