BANGOR – Maybe Pat Colwell really does have the right to sing the blues.

After rising through the ranks of majority leadership slots to become speaker of the House in 2002, the Gardiner Democrat seemed to be at the top of his game. He kicked off 2004 by crafting a sweeping tax reform plan and set the stage for what was perceived to be a slam-dunk campaign for his election to the state Senate this fall.

Then, infighting over competing tax-relief strategies between House and Senate Democrats put the kiss of death on Colwell’s bill for a beefed-up Homestead Exemption program. Two months later, he called reporters into his office and put an end to some simmering rumors about his marriage: Colwell and his wife were splitting up after 33 years.

In the process, Colwell also abandoned his quest for the Senate as part of what he described as a “need to change the focus of my personal life.” The announcement triggered a minor celebration at GOP state headquarters, where Republican masterminds quickly boosted their Senate candidate’s chances of success.

Some former speakers seek refuge in a constitutional office like Secretary of State or Attorney General. Others aspire to become well-paid lobbyists. Some just drop out of sight for a while, waiting for the winds of political change to blow their way.

Not Colwell, who was prevented by term limits from running for the House again. Instead, resurrection arrived in the form of a fedora, a white Fender Telecaster guitar and a pair of sunglasses. Like Jake and Elwood of the Blues Brothers, Colwell was on “a mission from God” Thursday night as he got his groove on at the Bangor State Fair.

Backed up by the Boneheads, one of central Maine’s premier blues-rock bands, Colwell morphed into a kind of musical version of presiding officer serving alternately as front man, emcee and supporting player for the show. At times. the transition appeared seamless – even to Colwell.

“Some people say there are parallels between politics and rock and roll,” he told his small but steadfast audience. “I guess when you get either one right, you make people happy.”

Ripping through blues songs like “Knock Me Out,” “Cut Across Shorty,” “Giving It Up For Your Love” and “10th Avenue Freeze-out,” Colwell traded licks with guitarist extraordinaire Steve Jones and delivered backing vocals for his brother, Bob Colwell, who was doing keyboard duty.

Then during a break in the action, state Rep. Eddie Dugay, D-Cherryfield, came up to the edge of the stage to bug Colwell. It was almost as if both were back in the House where the speaker might ask “would the representative from Cherryfield approach the rostrum?”

As usual, Dugay had some well-intended advice. He thought Colwell’s amp was too loud and insisted it was drowning out the singer’s vocal parts.

“That’s the story of my life: Can you turn it down?” Colwell remarked.

Actually, most of Colwell’s past really has involved playing rock-and-roll circuits from Portland to Presque Isle. If he has his way, the future – or at least the next six months – will mark his return as a troubadour who has found a reassuring cushion on stage as he withdraws from the political spotlight.

“It’s really exciting to be reunited with my brother again and playing the kind of rhythm and blues and roots rock and roll that I’ve always loved to play,” he said. “Bob’s one of the Boneheads. I am not a Bonehead, although I have been called a bonehead in partisan debates.”

Playing with the Colwell Brothers Band at The Loft in Portland and Benjamin’s in Bangor during the 1970s, Colwell showed an early preference for R&B music. While his other friends were trying to replicate the opening chord to the Beatles’ “A Hard Day’s Night,” Colwell was getting down with Wilson Pickett. In fact, Colwell and the Boneheads served up a faithful representation of Pickett’s “634-5789” in Bangor Thursday night.

“That’s the kind of music I always loved,” he said. “I kind of grew up with it and it may have resulted in me being a little out of touch musically with some of my friends back then.”

What happens after Colwell finishes his latest pilgrimage to the blues and leaves his salaried position as speaker behind at the end of the year? The perennial politico rules nothing out – or in.

“I’m 53 years old now, and I’m kind of worn out – but you never know,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of good friends in this state and around this country and opportunities arise. I’m going to continue to be the best speaker I can be every day. I love this job. I’d like to do it for another 10 years, but they won’t let me.”