Today I’m chatting with Mama Gina LaMonte, Pagan musician, bard, and wise woman. She is well-known on the Pagan festival circuit, and her music is known for being bluesy and spirit-touched. From Tricksters to Fae to Kali Ma, Mama Gina’s never met a Muse that she couldn’t turn into music.
HF: How long have you been a musician? MG: I started playing guitar and writing songs when I was in the 4th grade. I wouldn't exactly call that being a musician, but I always knew I was going to do this in some way. By the time I was 16, I was singing in a duo, and went on the road with a showband when I was 19. I'm 53 now. You do the math. It's been a while.
Ok i won't say the whole thing, but you know what I mean! It's been half a year since I posted, and let me tell you, my life has been good! I got a beautiful new job that I love with all my heart, and I just wrapped up a weekend of paying singing gigs that was exhausting but magical, for all that I had to sit through one of the most ridiculous sermons i can remember.
As with every year, this year’s Pantheacon offered too rich a menu of workshops and performances for any of us to see all we wanted. This year I was lucky. Several of my favorite Pagan singers (and wonderful people as well) offered back-to-back performances, and I was able to see them all. Ruth Barrett and Holly Tannenwere prominent Pagan minstrels and bards when I first entered our community back in 1984.
Tara Rice is a brand-new Pagan artist from Toronto, Ontario. She contacted me via my website to ask me to listen to her new single. I was enchanted! I immediately invited her to join our Canadian Pagan music anthology project (now set for this November) and asked if she'd be willing to do an interview. She's a friendly and enthusiastic but professional young woman and I was impressed with her thoughtful answers. You can find more information on her or her music at her website: www.tararice.com.
The walls of the medieval castle flicker in the light of the torches as crowds mill across the courtyard. The smell of cooking fires and stew waft from the kitchen and another group of people in medieval clothes, some in chain-mail, pass me on their way to the tavern. I watch them descend the well-trodden stone stairs, then turn toward the tower, hoping to get a break from the crowd and a better look at this medieval market from above.