Puttin' on the Dog at the Ohio Theatre: Finally, Tom Waits Plays Columbus

The giddiness and borderline euphoria of the announcement had only grown since May.

Tom Waits. First-ever Columbus show. Saturday of Comfest weekend. Tickets gone in 20 minutes. Two in my hands. Who cares if I saw him in Louisville in August 2006? The choices this time were my home of eight years, Knoxville or Alabama.

After an alcohol-fueled prologue and nine people piled into a mini-van, the ticket lines of 2006 were no more. From a side entrance to the Ohio Theatre, our wait to enter lasted all of 15 seconds. A merch table actually filled the lobby this time, albeit Waits' idea of tour T-shirts were lithographs of his photography of oil stains on concrete (yeah, I bought one - he did take it in Long Beach).

The concentrated Comfest crowd never materialized inside the Ohio - this was an older bunch, and one that traveled long ways to see Waits. He came no closer to the East Coast than Columbus, so Waits fans flocked our way. The guy who bought my extra ticket spotted Steve Buscemi while visiting some friends seat further down. Celebrity sightings can be easily mistaken, but Steve Buscemi at a Tom Waits concert? That couldn't sound more appropriate.

Of course, some later arrivals in our row definitely came from Comfest; the boyfriend couldn't placate his overly drunk girlfriend, and she couldn't control the loudness of her voice. They left after 30 minutes. Why someone goes overboard with the booze when they've spent $90-plus on a ticket escapes me. Aside from the drunken hipsters, I'd rendezvous with these strangers anytime.

As with other shows, Waits began by impeccably splicing together "Lucinda" and Leadbelly's "Ain't Going Down to the Well. " As is Wait's tradition, many songs sound nothing similar to their studio counterparts; played live, this smooth beast had lost its overly rough edges, becoming a better song in the process. He chased the medley down with "Way Down in the Hole" and "Falling Down," a powerhouse rarity driven by the depths of Waits' wounded bellow.

Waits' Summer '08 jaunt featured a different band set-up than in 2006. His son Casey assumed all the drumming duties this time Steady Larry Taylor thumped on the upright bass but new to the fold were keyboardist Patrick Warren, guitarist Omar Torrez and woodwind player Vincent Henry.

The woodwinds broadened the sound from the last tour, allowing some interesting diversions through songs forced into straighter rock arrangements in Louisville.

From his sandy riser amidst his band, Waits performed a magic act, effortlessly jumping through genres and moods, going silly, sublime, sweet, suffering and back without an awkward step. Case in point - how many artists can move through "All the World is Green," "Chocolate Jesus and "Cemetery Polka" then leap into the 10-minute "Sins of My Father?" This being Waits, you know he'll jump back to a fun romp like "Big in Japan" just as quickly.

Tracks from Real Gone, Waits' last proper studio album, an uneven effort at best, came out with new arrangements and a better coat of paint. "Hoist That Rag" and "Make it Rain" both thrived in a new sitting.

The ballads were easy choices, yet still inspired - "Innocent When You Dream," and "Lost in the Harbour" the lone offering from Alice.
He slightly slowed down the rollicking "Lie to Me," stripping away the song's frantic beat yet preserving its lyric power.

Waits made room for some dirges, too, with "Misery is the River of the World" and the most depressing number of all, "Dirt in the Ground" from Bone Machine.

Emerging for an encore, Waits toured through "Jesus Gonna Be Here," "Eyeball Kid" and finished with the sentimental "House Where Nobody Lives."

After seeing earlier setlists featuring "Rain Dogs," "Anywhere I Lay My Head" and the gospel ballad "Come On Up to the House," I had slightly different hopes. There wasn't a weak spot I could eyeball, but illogically hoped for more music from 20-year old albums. Ending there would have sealed the Columbus show as a solid #2 to the Louisville show.

But he hustled out again and armed with an acoustic guitar, I knew what was coming, the one song I wanted above all others ... "Time." Deeply emotional and sporting some of the richest lyrics in his oeuvre, he whispered and growled his way through.

After that, don't ask about Louisville vs. Columbus ... the closer turned it into a toss-up. The bands and circumstances were too different.

Besides, I'm ready to travel to any stage where Tom Waits rests his mirror-ball derby and police bullhorn.