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ELLSWORTH Trisha Mason is a candidate for most nervous interview subject ever.

She giggles a lot. Her cheeks, glowing with health, blush. Her accessible gaze suddenly averts up and to the left, then instantly returns.

'I'm sorry,' she says with a giggle. 'You should see me onstage. It's the talking thing that gets me every time.'

She takes a seat at her piano, a vintage Jacobs Brothers. Its wood cabinet is nicked a bit, but the instrument is in good shape and contains a rich sound. A notebook full of song lyrics is on the stand, and more pages of lyrics, along with a cut-glass lamp, is on top. A guitar case leans against one side. The dividing wall, which Mason painted carmine with pattern of circles within quadrangles, is hung with family photos; an image of her grandfather as a young man, accordion in hand, takes center place.

Published in Music

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