Artwork courtesy of Megan Broussard Maughan, designed by Blake Lagneaux.
My obsession started on October 18, 2024.
I was down in Lafayette for my birthday. Like most of us who’ve moved away from Acadiana, I was experiencing festival withdrawals. I needed music with a fiddle, a washboard, and intermittent mic feedback STAT.
Luckily, that night was the closeout of the Rhythms on the River fall live music series. I was excited to show Rick the Brit what these were all about. I started by explaining how I knew all the random people I was waving to.
“That’s my momma’s old coworker; that’s a girl I used to play softball with; that was my home ec teacher for like two months—”
—suddenly, all-too-familiar piano keys rang through speakers.
I stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked.
I could only muster a whisper.
“The Freeze,” I breathed. “I must go.”
Zombie-eyed, vodka soda in hand, my overstuffed cross-body bag swinging—I zigzagged through golf carts, lawn chairs, and toddlers to get to the bandstand just in time to hit that first eight count.
Do-on’t! Tempt me with your eyes …
The effect was something like a cobra swaying to the tune of its charmer. I grapevined in a trance. First to the right, then to the left, all the while being transported to various settings of core memories: my middle school gym and my crush who only ate Airheads; Sadie Hawkins, where my best friend and I fought and made up between the first and second verses; the first wedding in my friend group, when we all started to feel like adulthood was inevitable.
‘Cuz if you don’t want me to…
Don’t tease me, don’t tease me.
Try to please meeee.
"If You Don't Want Me To"
Almost a month later, back in Brooklyn, I was missing home, and decided to post the video Rick snuck of me dancing to “The Freeze” on Instagram. It zooms into my stank face right at the rocking-back-and-forth part. It’s beautiful. The sound isn’t the clearest though, so I searched for the song on the app to include in the post.
I typed: “The Freeze,” then “the freeze line dance,” then “cajun freeze.”
Nothing.
Hunh. Weird. Whatever, I’ll just look it up by artist.
Who sang this again? Wayne Toups, maybe? Yeah, gotta be Wayne Toups.
Nope. Wow, don’t tell anyone you thought that. Ever. That’s super embarrassing.
Okay, just Google the lyrics.
“If you don’t want me to, don’t tease me.”
Did you mean … “If You Don't Want Me To?”
Bingo! Yes … okay, wait. Is “freeze” nowhere in the lyrics? I thought at least one of these verses said “don’t freeze me,” no?
Where did I get that from?
Ow, my leg fell asleep…
So why do we even call it “The Freeze”?
Now, I was hooked. I hurried up and posted the reel (okay and the TikTok) without the song, so I could focus on solving this mystery.
Side note: I used to be a true crime producer. I know, weird to just throw that one at y’all right now, but it’s important for me to be upfront about how psycho I can be about solving a case. Also, as you may have ascertained, I’m a Libra, which makes my yearning for truth and fairness all the more intense. You know, the whole scales of justice symbol, etc . . . But, I digress.
As I dug online, I found an old Facebook post—well, actually a handful of posts, of people, all from Louisiana, who were going through a similar revelation as myself. Then, my phone dinged—a new comment on my line dance post:
“The Freeze! So disappointed to find out this is very much a regional line dance when I moved away from the homeland of south Louisiana.”
Wait. Wait. Wait. Holdupholdupholdup. My eyes lingered on the word “regional.”
Now that I was thinking about it, I realized I didn’t remember ever hearing “The Freeze” in the country bars in New York. Hell, I don’t even remember hearing it when I lived in Dallas….
Okay, who sings this song?
Ronnie Milsap.
The name doesn’t sound Cajun. Let’s see where he’s from in Louisiana.
North Carolina?!
But this is an inherently Cajun/zydeco song … isn’t it? One that, like the “Cupid Shuffle,” has become a nationally recognized line dance … Right?!
I felt like I had just found out my family and friends were the only ones in the world who sang “Happy Birthday” before blowing out the candles on a cake.
I thought about this for days. Nights, if I’m honest. Poor Rick had to hear the rantings of a mad woman spiraling out of control for months.
I’d barrel out of the shower. “What if it’s one of those Mandela Effect situations? Or a government conspiracy or something? Ya know, like they tried to make us believe we didn’t see Sinbad play a genie in Shazam in the nineties. Remember that?”
He’d just nod.
The next day, mouth full of toothpaste: “It just doesn’t make sense, Rick. We fangirl over artists who are from Louisiana. So why are we so obsessed with a song that isn’t Cajun, doesn’t even have French in it, and the singer’s not from Louisiana at all … Like I didn’t know who Addison Rae was, but now that I know she’s from Lafayette, I go out of my way to drink Diet Pepsi you know?”
More nodding.
I knew I had to take action when Ronnie visited me in a dream. Specifically, the Ronnie from his 1998 16 Biggest Hits album, where he wore that burgundy corduroy blazer. He and I were at the Legends on Johnston Street. It was weird because my old neighbor walked in and waved at us like it was nothing. Anyway, he leaned in to tell me a secret, but before he could tell me the thing I was sure was gonna blow this case wide open, poof—he turned into a lucky rabbit’s foot.
Don’t worry, I’ve already bookmarked a discussion with my therapist.
Immediately, I told my editor about the mystery I’d uncovered and that I had to write about it for my next column. I was expecting her to be in awe of my investigation, impressed by my tenacity, nominate me for some kind of investigative journalism award, when she goes:
“Oh, yeah, there’s a whole documentary about this.”
I gasp.
“So, I’m not alone?”
Enter filmmakers Rachel Nederveld, Allison Bohl DeHart, and Peter DeHart—the trio behind the documentary, The Freeze, which I learned is still in production.
[Read more about the documentary, The Freeze, in this story from our November 2023 issue.]
I got to sit down with them and revel in this Ronnie rabbit hole. One thing I thought was especially fascinating was that “If You Don’t Want Me To” was not initially released as a single … which is how any hit in the eighties reached the airwaves. Moreover, it was on the B-side and never sent to radio stations to promote—which made it even harder for fans to find.
Over the past few years, the filmmakers have interviewed a number of South Louisiana DJs from the eighties who talked about the trouble they experienced having to hunt down the song to keep local listeners happy. The song was obscure, the album hard to find, so they had to take turns using it when they’d go and play weddings, family reunions, and high school dances.
“Ohh, but there is so much more that we’ve uncovered. The deeper we dig the more holes we find,” said Bohl DeHart.
I was practically salivating. That’s when they asked me, “Do you want to help us solve it?”
“Don’t tease me,” I said. “Of course I do!”
And you can help, too. You can help us find the truth in two ways:
- Do you, or someone you know, know someone else who was on the dancing scene in the 1980s? We’d love to talk to anyone who was dancing the South Louisiana circuit during those days. We’re talking line-dancing, square-dancing diehards. We’d especially love to meet people who made trips out to the dance halls in Beaumont or Houston areas. Reach us at: thefreezedoc@gmail.com.
- Join The Freeze community! We need sleuths and supporters to make this happen, so follow us on social media (@thefreezedoc on Instagram and facebook.com/thefreezedoc) to get updates as the mystery unfolds, and more importantly, learn about our upcoming crowd funding campaign.
Until next month, mes amis.
Read more entries of Megan Broussard Maughan's column, “In Search of the Lost Tongue,” here.
