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Walking through Atlanta is an exercise in shifting perspectives. One moment you are immersed in the raw, technicolor energy of the streets; the next, you stand before the silent, dignified bronze of history. This journey began at Centennial park and stretched more than a kilometer around downtown. The Olympic legacy still towers over the city and may very well forever. The monuments to the Games and those that lost their lives in this celebration of unity serve as a bridge between the street-level grit and the formal city center, marking a moment when Atlanta stepped onto the global stage, permanently altering its architectural DNA. The People's Gallery The city speaks loudest in the shadow of the overpasses and alleyways though, as well as it does in the ordinary everyday city streets. The walls are alive in these places and the city uses every inch to express identity or frustration. One mural captures a profound social moment displaying children greeting their new playmates. It...

In the summer of 1923, a nondescript warehouse at 152 Nassau Street became the most important room in American music. While the building itself has long been a point of contention for preservationists, its legacy remains the bedrock of the modern recording industry. Before this moment, the "music business" was a walled garden. If you wanted to record, you went to New York or Chicago. You played what the labels told you to play. But Okeh Records—led by the visionary Ralph Peer of A&R decided to take a risk on a "field expedition," bringing portable (and temperamental) recording equipment directly to the talent. His worked sparked a genre.  The sessions were intended to find "regional" talent, but what they found was a cultural explosion. It was here that Fiddlin’ John Carson cut "The Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane." The work sold out instantly and proved to a skeptical Northern industry that there wa...

story by Glenn Stewart, photo from the Volker News HUNGRY? The red neon sign catches your eye as you walk or drive by the iconic Fric & Frac on 39th Street Step inside and you're greeted by the delicious aroma of diner classics, smiling faces, and the kind of laughter that makes you want to stay awhile. Now celebrating its 50-year anniversary, Fric & Frac opened in 1976 with Rudy and Judi Ross and it's been a neighborhood staple ever since: timeless, adaptable and proudly inclusive. Favorites like the Max Burger and daily specials keep people coming back And yes, the italian Stallion is still on the menu, just like day ane. For owner Max Ross, Fric & Frac has been part of his life since he was 3 years old.  After joining the business in the late 2000s, he's watched generations grow up and he's known some customers since they were babies. "I'm really proud of what we've achieved it's been hard work, but so worth it for the friends and family ...

A Valentine's Day performance by the band Not Quite Brothers down at Knuckleheads Garage found a high-energy tribute to classic rock and pop that kept the audience engaged from the first note to the last of a three track encore.   Indeed, the entire setlist proved to be a nostalgic journey through various eras, featuring faithful and energetic renditions of hits from artists like Queen, The Killers, AC/DC, and even a few crowd shouters from other genres such as "Beer Never Broke My Heart" by Luke Combs.    The ability of the band to transition between power ballads, high-octane rock anthems, country jams, and other cross-genre favorites demonstrated solid technical skill.  They covered these tunes with an impressive vocal range and tight harmonies, particularly evident during their covers of the more vocally demanding tracks. The lead singer brought his own charismatic energy to the stage, maintaining a lively atmo...

Under the sun of a frigid Saturday morning at Pleasant Valley Skateboard Park, the usual rhythm of wheels on concrete was secondary to a different kind of movement. Among a plethora of others, "Sima" glowed fresh against the pavement, a vibrant anchor in a sea of overlapping tags and murals. More tag gallery than skate park at this time of year, this an environment where art is often temporary, destined to be weathered by the elements or reclaimed by the next layer of paint. Speaking with the solitary painter out on this day, he regaled me with tales of his travels tagging and photographing about town. Nothing told a more bolder story though than what was encountered on the way out.  Much like the walls of the park, a mobile canvas shaped like small pickup, wrapped in bold, swirling blues and character-driven art, grinned back across from across the asphalt.