For five days, "Hometown Hero," "Children of the World," "Viktorious," "Voices," and especially "Something" got me over. I could maybe hear anger in "Viktorious," but more than that, I heard a precise acceptance and proclamation of Mississippi's might. Friends in New York kept asking me why K.R.I.T. from Meridian, which was right down the highway from Grandmama's house in Forest, who sounded like a more lyrical Pimp C. I'd heard from one of my friends back home that there was a dude named Big K.R.I.T. My unhealthy plan was to spend the entire week writing, listening to Al Green and only drinking water. Wuz Here found me as I was preparing my materials for tenure at Vassar College. Note that Freedia isn't just talk either - as she fires off demands of "toot it up" and "hands on your ankles," know that she, too, can bounce with the best of them. "Azz Everywhere" embodies the liberative, singular spirit that makes this music capable of filling dance floors in and outside of New Orleans. Their vibrant, buoyant world is one where binaries go to die gender constructs are a suggestion at best, as asses, the great unifier, come to the front (and the top). Standing on the shoulders of Katey Red, a drag artist who began queering bounce music in the '90s, Freedia is the style's most visible proponent.
To quote the queen herself, "it will pull asses of the masses together." Forget an earworm try sitting still when those drums kick in. Its construction is that of traditional bounce music: Samples abound, as do call-and-response-style lines that sound improvised even in their recorded forms.
Every miracle (if you follow the gospel anyway) needs a song that testifies to it, and so we have Big Freedia's "Azz Everywhere," the raunchy anthem that's become a staple of the subgenre. To see someone New Orleans bounce is to witness a miracle of physics - the way the booty seems to dislocate from the body is pure poetry in motion.
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