Photo by Marco Torres

Five days ago, America was promptly taken to church by well wishers and admirers of Whitney Houston. While that moment nestled itself in the fabric of gospel and Americana, an entirely different sort of revival occurred on the second floor inside Fitzgerald’s last night by the hand of Scoremore Shows.

Standing at the center was Meridian, Mississippi’s own Big K.R.I.T., his pulpit being a stage and his choir – a throng of rabid fans salivating and hanging off of his every breath anticipating their next move. Were they going to go batshit when Bun B came out for the remix to “Country Shit”? Did they whoop and holler as loud as they could when he turned “Money On The Floor” into a hazy, shot-of-Crown to get the full effect experience?

What would they do, they asked themselves.

For an hour, thanks to nifty set adjustments, K.R.I.T. touched base on all of his previous books. One, the soul wrenching and very personal K.R.I.T. Wuz Here and the more upbeat yet fiery Return of 4eva served as the main passages for the night’s proceedings. At times, he segued into newer cuts from his upcoming mixtape 4Eva N A Day which sadly got pushed back a week. We as onlookers, star gazers if you will found the floors rumbling anytime K.R.I.T. made an impassioned plea to his flock. The booming bass and authoritative nature from his side man and pimp in his own mind Big Sant only played an integral part in how the night came to a close.

After inviting Killa Kyleon to finish “Moon & Stars” and before launching into a rolling slap in the face to haters anthem “I Got This”, K.R.I.T. bathed in the plight and the struggle of “The Vent”, R4’s most somber and personal message to show that even though he was a superhero, the living embodiment of everything we loved about Southern hip-hop two decades before – he was still human.

Thunderous handclaps came from the balcony, a group of fans encouraging those below to “sing that shit” the same way you would hear at church an old man ushering a young lad to preach. People swayed, drenched in sweat and throats a bit raspy from the funk revival that occurred on White Oak.

More than anyone in this latest rap class, no one artist connects more to his fans than K.R.I.T. Unabashed in his statements or feelings, he repeatedly called himself “a country motherf*cker” through and through, knee deep in the same idioms that made Pimp C a cherished natural treasure. Only nationally known for the better part of two years, K.R.I.T.’s stage presence is imposing at best. He moves from side-to-side, never losing attention all while grabbing yours.

Almost as if he has this whole crowd control thing down to an exact science.

K.R.I.T. held serve on this night, one in which KAB Tha Don saw his first major opening opportunity and did not disappoint, barking every lyric from his Bully On Tha Beat mixtape with force. The Headwreckas heavyweight had a gravitational pull on the crowd, only amplified by Doughbeezy & KDogg joining him for their rendition of “Still Tippin”. It whipped the crowd into a moderate frenzy, setting the stage for Dough’s rapid fire freestyle intro into his own set, rattling off the same styled performance we’ve seen (and loved) before.

Yet, we left Fitzgerald’s on this night out of breath, raspy even. We knew Big K.R.I.T. had been delivered from the Heavens with poignancy about his every step. In this day and age, there’s not a soul alive who understands Southern rap aesthetics better than the Def Jam signee. Hopefully it swells into a masterful debut LP.

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