You'll be shocked, but I happen to really, really like Outkast. When they're on(which isn't always the case) they produce some of the most inventive music being made today. "Hey Ya" has one of the most infectious funk grooves to grace the charts since "Little Red Corvette." That said, I thought this description of Atlanta from Pitchfork Media's Brent DiCrescenzo was incredibly apt. One thing though, Brent, I think you mean Little Five points.

The twelve-lane Connector plows through Atlanta like the Nile of pavement. Along its fenced banks lie the majority of the city's attractions. Turner buildings, blossoming with neon network logos, lure Yellowjacket grads from the adjacent campus cluster with the sweet nectar of Powerpuff Girls money. Across the way, The Varsity serves grease between buns, communicating with a enigmatic fast food lexicon that rivals rhyming Cockneys. Tourists walk the overpass to the ghostly Olympic park, built on the graveyard of Techwood projects, in the shadows of Vick's pastel dome. Hipsters and reluctant yuppies settle in the gentrified Five Points and Cabbagetown, giving their quaint subdivisions more verdant "__________ Park" monikers. And finally, there's Turner Field, reverberating collective October sighs, before the highway splits back into its tributaries in East Point, the cultural fountainhead. The hip-hop id to New York's ego: the home of Outkast.