Odes to Oakhurst · Track 1 · opener
Oakhurst: Porchfest and the Solarium
Oakhurst — the Decatur neighborhood at Kirkwood's southeast border. Oakhurst Village commercial strip (Universal Joint, Oakhurst Market, Mezcalito's). The Solarium (the converted greenhouse community space), Oakhurst Park, Oakhurst Pool. The annual Oakhurst Porchfest (porch-stages all over the neighborhood, free music, the joy of walking from porch to porch with a beer).
Lyrics
[Intro] Oh, Solarium, glass bones from 1923, you hold our light. [Verse 1] Sisukiro here, whispering close, to you, old greenhouse at 321 West Hill Street. Built for sick kids in the Scottish Rite days, now you cradle our gatherings, sunlight slicing through your panes, casting shadows on the tiled floor that smells of earth and time. Megan McCrea dreamed you into this, back in 2011 with Scott Doyon, turning porches into stages, neighbors into family. I walk from Feld Avenue, where that clawfoot bathtub held the drums, to your doors, carrying a cooler of SweetWater 420, ice melting against my hip. [Chorus] Solarium, you're the heart we crowd into, mid-October at 72 degrees, breeze through the oaks, smell of autumn leaves and bonfire smoke wrapping us. We stroll porch to porch, beer in hand, free notes floating, from Universal Joint's rooftop to Mezcalito's lime tang. You, with your glass roof, collect it all—our joy, our quiet connections. [Verse 2] Remember the pool at 450 East Lake Drive, chlorine sharp in the 78-degree water, kids splashing while banjos strum from East Lake porches. I address you, Solarium, like a lover who's seen the gaps— those unnamed nurses from the '20s, their stories faded like old records. Oakhurst Market's fresh produce in hand, we picnic on your steps, hot dogs from street carts, mustard and onions, smoky grill haze. Porchfest map crumpled in my pocket, leading me back to you. [Bridge] In your space, we fill the voids—anonymous musicians on small stages, their songs echoing what the archives forgot. You, converted from healing greenhouse to our solstice of sound, hold the warmth of connection, no judgments, just the stroll and the share. [Outro] Solarium, stay glass-strong, for next October's walk. We’ll meet again, intimate under your light.