Follow me through the mists of not-that-long-ago: The year was 2007. Seattle hiphop was in the midst of the Mass Line Media hegemony; Blue Scholars, Common Market, and Gabriel Teodros were converting young listeners (those who were uncomfortable with, or couldn't identify with, BET mass-market rap music) into NW hiphop heads with their posi-populist-political lyrics.

The young Renton-based trio Dyme Def's debut, Space Music, had no such concerns about the state of hiphop (beyond said state being boring) and couldn't have been more different, or more timely. The consciousness was shoved aside for a higher level of boastfulness than was usual for a 206 rap crew, and the bpms were kicked way up by Seattle's "holy trinity" producer BeanOne. Dyme Def quickly became the hottest thing in Seattle, and they ran with it.

DD were making noise outside of the town, collaborating with Entourage star Saigon, touring with him, and looking to be on the verge. But after a handful of mixtapes/EPs, the quiet loss of BeanOne's anchoring influence, and the divisive (and to my ears, derivative) 2010 Sex Tape album, Dyme Def appeared to be floundering. Their once-piranha-like voraciousness had given way to indulgent complacency and mainstream emulation, their rap-selves sated and smug with club life, free clothes, and porn stars. Be clear, lazy minds: That's not a knock, that's not the fault of anybody, and those who think so should get off it—it was simply a cycle that's been seen many times before. It's also one that longtime hiphop fans know is very hard to rebound from.

Fast-forward to 2011, just a few months ago. I found myself compelled by a rough mix of their upcoming album, Yuk the World, sent to me by Bean, who had reunited with Fearce, S.E.V., and Brainstorm; the foursome were on their own, without a label or a team. It's more than clear on Yuk that a palpable hunger has returned to their music, and it's not their initial, young-gun energy, either. This new hunger is not to get on and get spoiled, but to prove to detractors, die-hard fans, and maybe themselves that they've rediscovered what made them Dyme Def in the first place. They're still the party guys, looking for a good time of epic proportions, but they've gained a certain measure of maturity, introspection, and veteran world-weariness. When Brain sings about their once-luxurious spaceship (they were definitely pioneers in Seattle hiphop's space program), it's clear the vessel has seen better days; the seat belts are gone, the rearview mirror knocked off long ago, and there are just too many folks partying in there. Still, DD sound determined to get it somewhere, namely, back home. Dyme Def have landed and, like Planet of the Apes, found a different terrain than the one they left behind. With BeanOne, they've planted the Yuk flag and now set about the task of rebuilding their nation. recommended