Words not Songs

Brent Mason - The Godfather of the Saint John Music Scene
THE MARITIME EDIT - VOL.6 - SEPTEMBER 2018
Written by Brent Mason

It’s the end of April and the beginning of the end of long, slow spring in Saint John. We’re still waiting for the annual flooding along the river that eventually disgorges itself into the harbour, along with decks, gazebos and whatever else can be torn loose by the freshet and carried along to the Bay of Fundy. The city sits at the confluence of the Bay of Fundy and the St. John River, and just as the water is always moving and changing with the tides and the force of the river, the city itself is in a metamorphic state these days.

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Brent Mason - Groundhog Gale
Written by Brent Mason

No one knew there was a storm coming. Nothing on the radio. He pushed through the aluminum door and stumbled over the chunky ice and snow on lawn, not near half awake. He walked to the bus stop at the end of the street just like any other day that winter, Lee jean jacket unbuttoned over a t shirt, GWG's stuffed into untied Kodiak work boots like his hands that were stuffed into his pockets like balled up bony rocks. The only thing that seemed out of place was the wind, a warm wind that was a bit odd because it had been really cold the day before, but that was about it. Bouncing in the back of the bus ride down Loch Lomond road, he was oblivious to the cartoon imagery racing past the windows outside. They piled out of the bus in circle in front of the school and again he noticed the wind, warm and maybe a bit stronger than at the bus stop 15 minutes before.

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