Karen Pulfer Focht
This sign adorns the fence on the birth home of Aretha Franklin in Memphis.
When it comes to opinions about Memphis, I’d venture that there are more of them than there are Memphians. Research data suggest that folks who live here are quicker to trash the city than are people elsewhere, who tend to have a mixed-to-positive impression of the place. That disjunction might be a head-scratcher to outsiders, but probably comes as no great surprise to those of us who have spent time here. Locals know plenty well that Memphians seem to derive a certain strange satisfaction from dissing our city. It’s a pastime, of sorts, and we never seem to run out of material.
And yet, despite (or, in part, because of) frequent, and frequently self-inflicted negativity, there’s no shortage of Memphians of all stripes who choose to love Memphis — loudly. Yes, you don’t have to search far to hear about crime, poverty, and stagnation. But neither does it take much time to come across people — prominent and not — who embrace their home vocally and with open arms. The reason, I think, is that ineffable quality — soul is as good a word for it as any — that makes Memphis, the idea, lodge in our hearts like barbecue smoke in our hair. (You didn’t think I could write a column for our annual City Guide without using the word “barbecue,” did you?)
Plenty of Southern cities resemble Memphis on the surface, but few have the kind of “main character energy” that this one does. (New Orleans comes to mind, certainly, as a true cousin of ours.) The difference is the soul imbuing so many aspects of our culture: soul music, of course. Soul food, naturally. But also, even the soul we bring to sports fandom, and religion, and evenings just watching the river flow — our humid air is thick with soul. Ineffable but palpable, obvious but hard to define.
We begin thinking through each year’s City Guide issue of this magazine — published annually in August since 1984 — earlier than most. From the Who’s Who selections we carefully deliberate over each year to stories about music, art, food, faith, and more, we work hard to bring you an August magazine worth keeping on the coffee table for the next 12 months (at least! We don’t know how much clutter you can tolerate!).
As you read the stories we’re publishing this month, I hope you’ll feel a sense of soul, and think alongside us about the inscrutable force that keeps you tethered to this city and its people.
When we ventured into the 2025 City Guide planning process, my colleagues and I chose to do so with an organizing idea in mind: soul. It’s the sort of concept that eludes simple definition, and invites instead an understanding formed prismatically, through oblique angles and unexpected glimmers.
You’ll find those glimmers (and more) in our story about the city’s soul-food scene. And in a piece about the Central High School Jazz Band — this year honored in New York City as the best in the world. Jazz and soul, of course, are intertwined art forms — and you’ll see quite a lot of soul in the love, devotion, and joy Ollie Liddell and his students bring to their work.
On a more somber note, we felt it was fitting — if heartbreaking — to include an article about Clayborn Temple, which earlier this year suffered a catastrophic fire that has been ruled the result of arson. The team who already were working to renovate Clayborn are now faced with a far more monumental challenge: reimagining the sacred ground. What happens to soul when the stones and mortar, pews and stained glass that once housed that soul tumble down? I for one believe it’s still present, so long as we collectively remember — and that soul can seep into new stones, new mortar, new planks of wood when the time comes.
As you read the stories we’re publishing this month, I hope you’ll feel a sense of soul, and think alongside us about the inscrutable force that keeps you tethered to this city and its people.
Stay hydrated and stay informed.
P.S. We love hearing from you. If you would like to share any insights with us, or just say hello, please reach out: letters@memphismagazine.com. Occasionally, letters may be published in an upcoming issue of the magazine. (We’ll ask for your permission first.)
