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By Margie Goldsmith

              PLAYING THE BLUES





                                                                               In Atlantic Canada




                    he Mellotones, Halifax’s most         Eight years ago, I took up the har-
                    kickass Rhythm & Blues band,       monica because I travel to many for-
              Tare onstage at Bearlie’s, a Cana-       eign countries and meet so many
              dian hotspot for live blues. Much of     whose language I can’t speak; music is
              the audience is dancing but not me.      a universal language and a harmonica
              I’m quaking because I know they are      easily fits into a pocket. Playing the
              about to call me on                                         blues quickly
              stage. What have I                                          grew into my
              gotten myself into?                                         passion, and
              I’m a writer, not a                                         while It took me
              musician – an ama-                                          a long time to
              teur compared to this                                       get over stage
              sizzling hot Nova Sco-                                      fright, I now go
              tia nine-member                                             to open mic
              band.                                                       jams a few
                  I am in Atlantic                                        times a week in
              Canada because I’ve                                         New York City.
              been asked to write                                         The thought of
              about three historic                                        playing with
              hotels. Visualizing                                         Canadian musi-
              crumbling buildings, threadbare furni-   cians was irresistible, especially as the
              ture, and the smell of “old,” I planned  timing worked out for me to go with a
              to say no, but the firm that arranged    fellow writer, Lea Lane, a world trav-
              the trip dangled a carrot they knew I’d  eler who has seen everything --- ex-
              bite: play with different musicians      cept me playing blues harp. She
              each night. I couldn’t pack quickly      promised to drive, be my groupie and
              enough.                                  even my roadie.

















            152   WINE DINE & TRAVEL MAGAZINE 2020
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