Peaches, pine trees and one of the best college football programs in the country — these are likely the first things that come to mind when thinking of Georgia. But beyond the succulent sweet fruit and lush green trees lie a rich history of art, literature and, of course, music. From the winding rivers of the Lowcountry to the slippery dust of small-town roads, this state has been a source of inspiration for many rhythmic romanticists.
Standing tall beneath the Southern sun, Emory University welcomes students from around the world. Within the Class of 2028, only 20% of Emory College and 19% of Oxford College students come from the southeastern United States. Whether you traveled here from another country, city or just a few streets away, it never hurts to stop and smell the azaleas. From the Civil War sites of Sherman’s March to the Sea to perfectly salted boiled peanuts, this state has a lot to offer. As such, I present five songs about Georgia to inspire newcomers and natives alike.
‘Midnight Train to Georgia’ by Gladys Knight & the Pips (1973)
While recounting a somewhat solemn tale of defeat, “Midnight Train to Georgia” speaks not to rejection but redirection. The family group, led by Atlanta-born Gladys Knight, divulges a story of love and loss over an infectious funk beat. In this song’s story, after failing to fulfill his dreams in California, a man retreats, buying a one-way ticket to the East Coast. His lover, whose perspective Knight voices, decides to follow him. Yet, even as the couple forsakes life in Los Angeles, optimism reigns: Peppy piano, boisterous brass instruments and Knight’s silky-slick voice lend the track an air of excitement, beckoning forth a new life.
As Knight laments, “He’s leavin’ on that midnight train to Georgia / Said he’s goin’ back / To a simpler place and time,” the Pips add a delicate, rich harmony, filling in the gaps of hesitation with additional details and dashes of hope. This call-and-response format — common in 1970s soul music — serves the song well. As the narrator prepares to take this leap of faith to Georgia, it is as if an omniscient force is offering support and guidance. As Knight growls, “I’ve got to go / I’ve got to go / My world / His world / My man, his girl,” the Pips supplement her with “For love / Gonna board / The midnight train to go / For love / Gonna board / The midnight train to go.” It is as if the little devil — or angel — sitting on your shoulder has a microphone, an ear for harmony and a high opinion of the Peach State.
‘Georgia on My Mind’ by Ray Charles (1960)
In 1930, musicians Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell wrote ‘Georgia on My Mind,’ but Ray Charles’ 1960 rendition made it a classic. The track, filled with vibrant visions of the Southern state, speaks not to life within it but life without it. Charles, who was born in Albany, Ga., finds himself drawn to his home like a seaman to a seductive siren — struck by homesickness yet unwilling to return to his native state.
Soft violins precede Charles’ crooning in the opening seconds of the track, setting the tone of simple solemnity. Charles enters hesitantly, his voice cracking on the second syllable of “Georgia / Georgia” just as a politely played piano slips in. Throughout the track, Charles’ voice intensifies, thick with longing, admiration and melancholy. He relishes the romantic perspective of Georgia, singing that its song “Comes as sweet and clear / As moonlight through the pines.” And yet, darkness looms as the beautiful description emerges not in the moment, but in memory. Charles admits, “I said Georgia, oh Georgia / No peace I find (No peace I find) / Just an old, sweet song / Keeps Georgia on my mind.” His voice is both determined and defeated, tender with affection and yet tense with sadness. For Charles, Georgia is hard to leave but even harder to forget.
‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ by The Charlie Daniels Band (1979)
Let me set the scene: A man with two horns, a pitchfork and a golden fiddle ascends from the underworld looking for a soul to steal. Nope, this is not the epic poem “Paradise Lost” (1667) by John Milton — it’s “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by The Charlie Daniels Band.
The track, which is more so a spoken word performance than a traditional song, is a musical feat. A few drum beats and a lively fiddle set the scene for a battle — not of the bands, but between good and evil. “The devil went down to Georgia / He was lookin’ for a soul to steal…When he came across this young man / Sawin’ on a fiddle and playin’ it hot,” the band explains. The young man, Johnny, enters a bet with the Devil over who is the better fiddle player. He accepts Satan’s proposition: “And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle of gold / But if you lose the Devil gets your soul.”
The battle ensues across impassioned instrumentals: The Devil’s music is tense and brooding, building to a screech; Johnny’s is light and smooth, ending with a soft exhale. In the end, the Devil accepts defeat. As the song ends, The Charlie Daniels Band sings, “He played ‘Fire on the Mountain,’ run, boys, run / The Devil’s in the house of the risin’ sun.” He is also in the Peach State, and I doubt he will be coming back for seconds.
‘Good Directions’ by Billy Currington (2005)
Unlike many other songs on this list, “Good Directions” by Billy Currington is not a powerful ballad nor an ambitious musical undertaking. In fact, it is a little silly. As a Georgia native myself, I have often found this song’s lyrics misleading. I have never been “crunching on a pork rind” or told someone their destination is “way up yonder” — but perhaps that is just me.
While “Good Directions” may lack emotional force, it is nonetheless an enjoyable listen — especially for Emory students whose only introduction to the South has been metro Atlanta and Fat Matt’s Rib Shack. In this early 2000s country hit, a young woman with “Hollywood written on her license plate” asks a man selling turnips on the side of the road for directions, which include, “You got to stop in and ask Miss Bell for some of her sweet tea / Then a left will take you to the interstate / But a right will bring you right back here to me.” The advice, sung in Currington’s southern drawl and set to a spunky beat, is as selfish as it is singable. Spoiler alert: The young woman comes back. Then, I suspect, she buys some Daisy Dukes and they ride off into the Georgia sunset. Ah, a modern love story.
‘Moon River’ by Frank Ocean (2018)
Just as the Moon River waterway from Skidaway Island, Ga., has many bends, this 1961 track written by Johnny Mercer has had many lives. At the request of the Academy Award-winning composer Henry Mancini, Mercer wrote this song for the film “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” (1961). Starlet Audrey Hepburn made this song famous with an iconic movie scene: With her hair wrapped in a towel, she perches atop a fire escape and strums gently against a small six-string acoustic guitar, singing the wistful ballad in a delicate tone.
While Hepburn’s rendition is rightfully revered, my favorite version is Frank Ocean’s 2018 recording. In this synth-laden and reverb-drenched reimagining, the emotion slices through the layers of electronic manipulation. It is in this tension between the artificial and authentic that the subtle intensity of the lyricism emerges. “Moon River, wider than a mile / I’m crossing you in style someday / A dream maker (Maker) / My heart (You heart) breaker / Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ that way (Same),” Ocean sings. Mercer’s dreamy script was inspired by the image of a moon over a river near his childhood home in Savannah, Ga. As someone who used to cross Moon River every day on my drive home, I can testify to the evocative dance of moonlight across shifting tides and to the equally evocative production of this track.
Catherine Goodman (26C) is the Managing Editor of Arts & Life and Editorial Board. She is a double major in English and Art History. She plans to pursue arts and culture journalism, with a special interest in criticism and feature writing. When she isn't listening to music or writing her column, you can find her baking specialty cakes or playing with her dog, Apollo.
