I imagined Athens, Georgia as exotic and magical when I was a kid. Wherever the B-52’s and R.E.M. were from must be another dimension where the rules are upside down. (Before a certain point in time) the B-52’s were plunky punk rockers and R.E.M. were consummate jangly bohemians. I know their legacy now is they were corny and pretentious, but I cope by filtering them out past the 80’s. I’ve always kept a thought in the back of my mind that it would be an adventure to see Athens for myself, find some traces of the old music scene, and test whether the laws of physics are all the same there. Wouldn’t you know it I got the chance for an extended visit to the area the last few months, to the CSRA, and I made a trip (figuratively down the Atlanta Highway) to the heart of Georgia. Yep, Athens is in fact a trendy college town that adores bulldogs.

I didn’t find any kind of shrines or murals to immortalize the bands, but when I dug through Wuxtry Records I found a few vintage concert posters and faded photos. Athens is home to a lot of other classic acts; the documentary “Athens, GA: Inside/Out” highlights more great southern indie bands. During my pilgrimage I haven’t seen or heard much at all relating to Fred Schneider or Michael Stipe. However, it’s clear to see that James Brown made a great impact on the region. In Augusta he’s got a boulevard, a bronze statue, an arena, and a marvelous costume collection in the museum. He was positively engaged with the community and made a big difference – in addition to being the godfather of soul. I did find something exotic in this land: fire ants. Their little sand mounds are everywhere. Those tiny buggers are pissed. Also, as promised by the B-52’s, butter beans are great.