an ode to "ohio"

Friday night involved running all over downtown seeing various bands for Midpoint Music Festival. We started off with Head and the Heart at Washington Park, and they had an AMAZING sound. I haven't listened to them too much, but I'm definitely going to be remedying that (and Damien Jurado speaks highly of them; I concur with his judgment). Our second show was at Taft Theater, a country-esque band playing covers of Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson. The culmination of the night was at the Blue Whisp Jazz Club: Damien Jurado! We squeezed into the front and had a spectacular view. Because it was a bar, much of the crowd in the back wouldn't stop talking. Jurado seemed particularly annoyed (but, then again, he always does), and when Andy yelled at the top of his lungs for everyone to shut their pie-hole, Damien told him it was okay, it was to be expected. He said that his tour had been comprised mostly of house shows in living rooms, which he preferred to the bar scene "because of that," he said, pointing to the people in the back. A few drunk girls pushed their way to the front and in the middle of a song kept reaching over the stage, trying to touch him. He stepped back and said, "I'm trying to play a song here," and then he reached out and touched them to get them to stop, and they freaked out and pushed back into the crowd and BOTH dropped their beer bottles, and the sound of them shattering filled the dim room. When the show was over he booked it out of there, grabbing his guitar and pushing through the throngs and out the back door, where Andy intercepted him and poured forth his love. Jurado seemed glad to leave the chaos of the bar (I don't blame him), but he seemed genuinely happy to see Andy politely thanking him for his time. As an ode to Jurado, here's his song "Ohio" (the Wisconsinite will appreciate the harmonica):

Out from the window across from the city

I have what's considered a good view.

Two blocks from the subway, three from the fountain

Where I walk to break in new shoes.

She stands on the sidewalk just waving at taxis

like horses in parades in passing.

I ask where she's headed, she tells me,

"Ohio, I've not seen my mother in ages.

It's been a long time, a real long time."

Out from my window, "How far is Ohio?"

She laughed and pointed out east.

She said, "I grew up there with my dear mother,

and I haven't seen her since thirteen.

You see, I was taken while she lay sleeping

by my father's hired men.

We moved to the city so far from my family.

I haven't been back there since.

It's been a long time, a real long time."

Out from my window please hear me Ohio

Your daughter wants to come home.

She longs to be with you, to hug you, to kiss you,

to never leave her alone.

And I've gotten to know her, to live with, to love her.

It's hard to see her leave.

She belongs to her mother and the state of Ohio,

I wish she belonged to me.

See you sometime, see you sometime...