Now It Time to Bounce Back

Now it time to bounce back

“Now it time to bounce back”: New Orleans Bounce Rap, Hurricane Katrina, and Re-Creating Sameness

Natalie D Baker, PhD (corresponding author)

Assistant Professor

Virginia Commonwealth University

Charis E Kubrin, PhD

Professor

University of California, Irvine

Abstract

Connections between place and cultural expression are well established. This is especiallytrue for New Orleans where forms of music like jazz and brass bands are both unique to the city and representative of social conditions there. While there have been a number of studies on the importance of New Orleans musical practices, little attention has been paid to those native to the city’s most disenfranchised areas. Bounce rap is music born of public housing projects, and is a patently local form of expression that gave voice to life in very poor areas of the city. Since Hurricane Katrina, the landscape of black New Orleans—especially the projects—has changed significantly. Long-standing communities essential to bounce were dispersed by the storm. Little is known regarding what bounce demonstrates about perspectives of project life before and after Katrina. We examine this through a thematic content analysis of bounce rap music lyrics both before and after Hurricane Katrina. We discover that major themes within both temporal periods are quite similar, reflecting the production of a sense of sameness that reimagines communities shattered by disaster. Findings question current notions of disaster resilience.

Keywords

Hurricane Katrina, Disaster Response, Bounce Rap, Thematic Analysis, Place-based Identity, Sameness

INTRODUCTION

“5th Ward Weebie, he back and we soldiers. I’m reppin’ New Orleans till the day that I’m over. Mississippi people, y’all feel me where I’m at. Same shit, same story, now it time to bounce back.” - Katrina Song (Fuck Katrina) – 5th Ward Weebie

These lyrics from “Katrina Song” by New Orleans rapper 5th Ward Weebietell two stories.Theline “I’m reppin’ New Orleans till the day that I’m over” demonstrates an internalization of the city as part of the artist’s personal identity. And “same shit same story, now it time to bounce back” constructs the disruptiveexperience of Hurricane Katrina as nothing new. Implied herethe “we,”reflecting the community created within the song lyrics, is accustomed to struggle and like always, the “soldiers” the artist refers to will go on.

Fifth Ward Weebieis a bounce rapper. Bounce, often referred to as project music, isa sub-genre of rapthatcomes fromNew Orleans’ poor black neighborhoods.New Orleans is often characterized as different from the typical American urban area, in large part due to its profound influence on music.As such, the cityhas played acriticalrole in the evolution of several forms of popular music such as jazz, among others (Miller 2006).New Orleans’rich musical environment isknown forspectacular celebrations of Mardi Gras as well as second lines and brass bands. Itsculture is arguably party driven, where a quick visit reveals inhabitants there celebrate perhaps more than inany other U.S.city.[1]The city is lesser known, however, for its rap scene, one that favorsstraightforward, party-oriented, and sexually explicit content that glorifies life in housing projects.

In 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated many communities inNew Orleans—and dealt the grassroots bounce rap scene a major blow. The extreme damage to poor black neighborhoodsresulted in the displacement of local musicians, including many bounce rappers(Hobbs2015).Yet there is little understanding, evena decade later, of the implications of Katrina onthe local bounce music scene.Likewise, not much is known about how Katrina altered the ways bounce rap is produced and practiced, if at all. What is the state of bounce rap after the storm? What does it suggest about the experience of disruption in post-disaster contexts?

Our study begins to address these questions through a thematic content analysis ofbounce rap lyricsbefore and after Hurricane Katrina. Here,bounceis examined to determine how it echoes the social experience of community withinprojects and wards, particularly in the context of a major catastrophe. As such, this research extends disaster research into cultural studies in a novel way despite some work in this area (see Webb and Wachtendorf and Eyre 2000, for example).Foreshadowing the results, bouncepresents a forum for rappers and audiences to both create and reimagine, in the case of the post-disaster environment,what was once a highly place-based community. Italso functions to resist social disruption in very similar but slightly different ways over the time period we studied.Weargue a fundamental human need for sameness is reflected here, which takes a different shape due to geographical constraints such as physical displacement. Ultimately,bounce,like the artists who produce it, encompasses flexibility.

Below we briefly describe the evolution of bounce and highlightits geographically-rooted identity in the context of rap music in the south. We then shift to the micro-local level, where the setting of New Orleans housing projectsboth before and after Hurricane Katrina is salient. This discussion issituated within theory on rap music, identity and place, as well asthe context of disaster. Following this, we present our methodological approach and discuss the findings. We conclude by discussing the implications of our findings to disaster scholarship.

NEW ORLEANS BOUNCE RAP

The Evolution of Bounce Music within the ‘Dirty South’ Scene

New Orleans rap occupies a role in the Dirty South music scene. Other southern cities such as Miami, Houston, Atlanta, Memphis, and Virginia Beach collectively comprise rap’s Third or Dirty Coast (Sarig 2007). Rap of this genreis typically oriented toward dancing and is characterized by a decreased emphasis on lyrical complexity, a prioritization of audience participation, and certain constellations of lyrical devices, such as call and response (Miller 2008). Although the Dirty Southwas established well after those of the East and West coasts, it now occupies a central position in the rap universe.[2]While New Orleans rap is a crucial part of the Dirty South, its particular brandmakes it somewhat unique within this geographic area.

For New Orleans, establishing a vibrant rap scene of its owntook time. Early on, local DJsentertained audiences with rap from other cities, most notably New York. With time, a distinctively homegrown scene was incubated in concerts, nightclubs, teen clubs, and house and block parties throughout New Orleansand through radio play and recording sales. Miller (2008) argues two central features influenced rap’s development here: the city’s relative isolation vis-à-vis the centers of the rap music industry and its deeply rooted traditions of expressive culture. As the scene developed, audiencespreferred local experiences based in call and response(Miller 2012).Over time, distinct predilections of local audiences coalesced into an identifiably New Orleans interpretation of rap.

This was solidified with the emergence of bounce in the 1990s. Bounce experienced a meteoric rise to local popularityin the early part of the decade (Miller 2012; Sarig2007).One reason was its orientation towards dance and fun, which appealed to locals.According to New Orleans personality Lucky Johnson, “It’s party music. It’s feel-good music. When people hear it they enjoy it”(Buck, Fensterstock, and Johnson 2011: 85). Bounce’s fast-paced tempo and call and response styleemployed certain repeated melodic patterns and upbeat, repetitive chants.Because the word bouncewas repeatedoften in songs and it describes the energetic feel of the music, people started referring to this new sound as ‘bounce rap’ (Sarig 2007). Furthering its appeal,lyricsoften refer to the various wards (specific neighborhoods) and housing projects in the city, where its listeners originate: “Bounce is definitely about the audience. No doubt about it. Every bounce artist that sung a song did it for the audience, if they represented their ward, if they represented their boyfriend, or their girl or whatever” (Buck, Fensterstock, and Johnson 2011:97). This practice frequently comes in the form of ‘name-checking’wardsand housing projects.

Despite bounce’s local success, it was and remains to this dayexcluded from national radio markets.One reason may be attributed to its lyrical content, which is often characterizedas basic,crude, and primitivecompared to mainstream rap (Miller 2006). Yet theseevaluations relyon a narrow definition of politics, underestimating “the extent to which bounce served as a forum for the critique of prevailing attitudes and practices both within and outside of poor and working-class black communities” (Miller 2012: 28).Miller (2012) furtherargues, “Bounce plays an important role in Black New Orleanians’ ability to cope with an ongoing but constantly evolving succession of hardships, insults, exclusions and neglect” (pg. 28).Consistent with this, rappershave claimed thatthe music andaccompanying collective celebrations help negotiate the struggles of poverty and deprivation.As stated byLucky Johnson:“When that music comes on you kind of forget about the struggle—the bills or the house note, or you broke up with your boyfriend or your girlfriend or your kid is tripping. You kind of forget about it for the moment. Even in death” (Buck, Fensterstock, and Johnson2011: 90). In this sense, bounce offers a forum to explore more local or personal micro-politics associated with life in the city’s most disadvantaged communities.

Housing Projects and Hurricanes - Situating Bounce in the Context of Disruption

New Orleans is divided into 17 wards or neighborhoods, many of which contained housing projects prior to Katrina. Despitepoor conditions, theprojects were consideredinstrumental tothe emergence of bounce as many of the performers, artists, and label owners originated within thetight social networks established in these communities (Miller 2006).As self-declared project music, bounce cannot be considered apart from thiscontext.

The social conditions of the city in the late 1980s and 90s set the stage for the advent of bounce rap. Miller (2012)notes “the 2000 census revealed a nearly two-to-one disparity in the average household incomes of whites and blacks in the city. Spiraling crime rates and high levels of interpersonal violence further reduced the quality of life in the city’s housing projects and working-class black neighborhoods during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, when the city’s rap scene was taking shape.” (pg. 41) Localrapper Slim states,“[the projects are] like a war zone, man. It’s just hard. Your odds are against you. You ain’t got no opportunities. It’s you against the world”(as quoted in Sarig 2007:262). Indeed, very high rates of violence characterized many housing projects.

By the 1990s, New Orleans had developed a bad reputation. In 1994, the city earned the distinctive yet unfortunate titleas the country’smurder capital(Frailing and Wood Harper 2010).Although traditional bounce rap has relatively little thematic content centering onviolence (compared to mainstream rap), some artists (e.g. Soulja Slim) have been involved, implicated, or killed in violent crimes. Gangsta bounce, a subgenre, squarely addresses violenceand related issues in the city (Sarig 2007). The landscape of socioeconomic hardship took a dramatic turn in the mid-2000s with the devastating blow to low-income black neighborhoods in the wake of Katrina.

As is now well-documented, Katrina had a catastrophic effect, especially inthose neighborhoodscentral to the bounce scene. Pre-existing disparities were a major contributor to the social consequences of this disaster, particularly for those living in vulnerable, flood-prone areas (Popkin, Turner, and Burt 2006;Breunlin and Regis 2006; Cigler 2007). Social and geographic vulnerability led to greaterdeath and material loss among blacks than whites (Colten 2006). The aftermath of the storm disrupted deep family, community, and cultural networks that struggle to re-establish today.

While many neighborhoods continue to face extreme violence and poverty in the prolonged aftermath of Katrina, they are not without positive qualities. Residents in the projects and wards of New Orleans have traditionally developed strong social ties to resist negative aspects of life in these areas (Lipsitz 1988, 2006). When material tools arescarce, cultural resources become important in understanding how “agency unfolds in contexts that are believed to be inhospitable to it” (Chamlee-Wright and Storr2009: 617). This idea is developed further in a review of the importance of music—and bounce in particular—as a form of cultural expression, intimately tied to place both before and after Katrina.

Music and ‘Bouncing Back’

Music can serve as an outlet by which people can deal with disadvantaged conditions. Faniel’s (2013) examination of the culture and history of Houston hip hop, for example, reveals that “young people from marginalized conditions – specifically African-Americans – effectively diagnosed their social ills and expressed themselves during times of boom and bust” (pg. 27) in the city. Similarly, in the context of bounce rap, Miller (2006) argues, “In the music, we see not only the negotiation of local and national lyrical themes and musical aesthetics, but also the contestation of the local scene by various actors and constituencies. Ward- and neighborhood-based rivalries, which have been part of New Orleans vernacular African American culture for at least a century or more, are played out, defused and reinvigorated within the context of the rap music scene” (pp. 29-30).The importance of music also applies to instances of disaster.

Cultural expression through music is thought to play an important role in the negotiation of the disruptions of catastrophe. For example, there is a strong tradition of discussions about disaster in American folk music (Carr 2004). Much of what is known of the connection between music and disaster comes from the post-Katrina context, as their interplay is a relatively new area of study. It is clear, however, that music is a form of social capital and community and also a tool that people use to help recover from disaster (D’Amico 2010).McLees (2008) argues that whilemany New Orleans music artists were reluctant to incorporate explicit discussions of Katrina into their songs, the disaster served to propel unprecedented rates of productivity as a way to manage the devastation of the storm. This also applies to bounce music in the context of the storm.

Scholars have identified the centrality of geographical and social relations in the production of bounce music, and how it has changed since the storm. The systematic dismantling of housing projects in New Orleans and the subsequent relocation of residents is fundamental here. The city’s more recognizable forms of musical expression, like the Mardi Gras Indians and brass bands, have been linked to recovery from Katrina. Menestrel and Henry (2010) suggest the reconstruction of New Orleans is intimately connected to the return of a vibrant music scene that has, in some ways, come to define its culture. To the extent that devastated neighborhoods of the city have been revived, Sarig(2007) argues that bounce has played anintegral role in this process. And while Kish (2009) maintains the content of post-Katrina bounce music reflects a general“metaphor for survival” (pg. 678),claims of links between bounce music and deeper reflections of community changes related to place have not been examined empirically.

Theories of Place in Rap’s Identity

Rap embodies a distinctive geographically-based style and point of view, perhaps more than any other form of artistic expression.From the time of its emergence in the Bronx in the mid-1970s, rap has been centrally concerned with place-based identities. Most commonly recognizedisthe East Coast and West Coast division used to categorize artists, companies, and audiences with basic differences in style and viewpoint. Newer regional affiliations, such as the Dirty South, reflect the continual growth of place-based imaginaries.

Several theoretical perspectives illuminate relationships among place, identity, musical style and lyrical content in rap (Cheyne & Binder 2010). As Bradley (2014) argues, “…hip hop reflects America’s socio-cultural landscape as a complicated maneuver of race, place, and identity” (pg. 87).One perspective poses the rap-place relationship is organic; stylistic differences between music produced in different places are unavoidable outgrowths of varying cultural, economic, political, and geographic contexts. Another emphasizes a dynamic and mutually reinforcing relationship between music and place. In line with the latter, scholars caution against naturalized or taken-for-granted understandings of the organic relationships between music and cultural history of a particular locale, arguing instead that participants appropriate music via global flows and networks to construct narratives of the local (Bennett 1999;Forman 2002;Krims 2000;Miller 2012; Rose 1994). As such, music and those involved in its production and consumption do not take a passive or secondary role in this process. Rappers and rap itself can serve as a powerful ambassador for local experience outside of the mainstream.

Places exist in a nested hierarchy represented at various levels of abstraction, which spans broad meta-regional affiliations (e.g., East or West Coast) to particular (mostly black) neighborhoods (Miller 2008).Thus, the rap-place nexus extends from a region to the extreme local (Forman 2002; see also Lena 2012). According to Faniel (2013: 8),