18th Oct
How was your weekend? Slumped on the sofa in your overpriced accoms, listlessly doomscrolling on your tethered device’s grubby screen as the rotting garbage piles up outside? Or out out, having it large, chasing the phantom of pleasure through the guilty maze of dissipation before ending up in that terminus of despair at the end of the night known as Legends bar? Banish any residual chagrin by hastening to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and rekindling your inner mounting flame at the volcano of hot licks and cool grooves laid on like gas used to be by man like Luke “Tat Tvam Asi” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Ob Nicht Natur Zuletzt Sich Doch Ergründe?” Thomas (drms) as they channel the boundless energies of creation into the white heat of musical expression, aided to some extent by me on the bass frequencies described by Schopenhauer as “the lowest grade of the will’s objectification”, plus an array of special guests stepping up to the plate to do their thing, the majestic ascended beings of the Bee’s Team making free with the quality hooch, and the regular cavalcade of the young and the hopeless, the eager and the lost, the quick and the undone, the coming in and the passing out, the masked and the unmasked, all passing across the greasy pavements on their way towards their personal meeting with the great whatevs… don’t waste another eve watching digitally pixellated images of fictional Koreans massacring each other as you try not to think about the coming metaverse that the Zuck has in store for us all, grab yer axe down off the shelf and let’s do a thing.
11th Oct
An ominous calm hangs over the glassy sea, the last paddleboards of autumn drift aimlessly before the motionless windfarm, the dryrobes are still tucked away and the starlings aren’t photo-ready yet… promises of a full on retro return to a classic 70s themed winter of shortages outages and other outrages may be looming, so if you’re all tuckered out from wondering nervously what terrible thing is going to happen next then JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH should be your number one destination this breathless star-strewn evening cos we’ve got man like Luke “Iron Fist” Rattenbury (gtr) plus Loz “Velvet Glove” Thomas blowing the energy shortage all to bits with their boundless reserves of natural groove and high-octane swing, I’ll be doing whatevs on bass, the peerless Bee’s team will be standing by with generous snootfuls of the good stuff, and all manner of special guests will be joining the legions of hopeful young beanie-n-beard wearing musos lining up to whack hell out the kit in the second set… outside the streets may be littered with broken dreams and besmirched with the grimy footprints of the legions of rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, and other unmentionables, out beyond the city limits well-meaning insulation enthusiasts may be glued to the thoroughfare, 127 Euro-truckers may be searching helplessly for the exit sign, Putin may snicker and Patel may smirk, the bin bags may be piling up in their thousands, but here in the velvet darkness there will be only unity and good vibes, so grab yer axe down off the shelf and come join us, why don’t you?
5th Oct
It’s ok - we know.. Sometimes a day spent driving around burning fuel in an attempt to buy more fuel can just seem too much like a metaphor for the utter inescapable pointlessness of your bounded earthly existence, but before you reach journey’s end and cry yourself to sleep outside a sternly closed Hollingbury Asda at 2am, why not drop in to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and pick up a different perspective, cos we’ll have man like Luke “Quantum Of Solace” Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest sticks n traps punisher Tristan “T-Bone” Banks (drms) defying any kinda bullshitty supply chain problems and building a sonic elevator to the stars and beyond with their inexhaustible reserves of hot licks and cool grooves.. I’ll be on bass as per, a range of eager young hopefuls will be sitting in, hoping to impress with their youthful ardour and untainted sincerity, dandy highwayman Jack Rowan will have a steady hand upon the tiller and all will be well … if you’re after a glossily produced blend of machismo and post-imperialist dick-swinging with a sheen of contemporary inclusivity to make it palatable, and couldn’t get into the Bond, then there’s always the Tory conference, but really, why bother? The sap slows in the sodden woods, the mackerel swarm in the greasy sea, the waning light of evening is heavy with nostalgia, the lord yeeteth and the lord yoinketh away, so grab yer axe off the shelf and come join us, time’s a-turnin.