As you hunker in your escape pod, surrounded by your panic-bought stocks of glistening quorn, slurping your evening Huel and glued to the telescreen as the cavalcade of sinister whimsy passes before your horrified staring eyeballs, with even the satisfaction of an election which everyone felt that they won except for the only two parties who can actually do anything about the result turning to ashes in your mouth (mingling undetectably with the Huel) …JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is here in the nick of time as the prospect of the Prolonged Period of Uncertainty turning gradually into your best life takes hold, to prise your white knuckles away from the panic button and get you back on the good foot, all mellowed out and back to what you like to think of as your “real self” despite the best efforts of Idealist philsophers like Kant and Hegel, cos who cares about those superannuated germanic losers when we’ve got Luke “Transcendental Idealism” Rattenbury (gtr) and fearless pirate marauder Tristan “T-Bone” Banks (drms) here ready to lay out their magic carpet of good vibes hot swing & good grooves, while the peerless Bee’s team wait, poised delicately in the velvet shadows behind the well-stocked bar, I contribute something or other on bass and the more eccentric members of the general public mill about in the gentle dusk outside beyond the steamy windows… there’s still plenty of good stuff happening, let’s put it front and centre just for tonight, tomorrow will be time for milkshakes anew…
Are you ready for the bold new era? Where salted caramel milkshakes are the medium of political discourse, where no-one cares about Danaerys cos she and her dragons don’t exist any more, where a single Magic Grandpa really CAN represent Leavers and Remainers at the same time even though it’s hitherto been impossible due to the basic laws of physics that govern the entire manifested universe.. let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH be your portal into the new era, as the machine elves grab you by the hand and lead you into a magical futuristic wonderland of good grooves hot licks & international rhythmic vibrations that will be spontaneously generated by the indefatigable Luke ‘Time Machine” Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest pirate Tristan ’T-Bone” Banks (drms), with additional input from me on the bass, plus whatever special time-travelling guests may swing by via the nearest wormhole to do their thing.. as May types ‘red rum’ for the 20 millionth time into the WAB, as Boris adjusts his killer clown makeup and exploding red nose, as the prolonged period of uncertainty grinds on its inevitable way, the giant moon in the park ascends back into the soggy heavens in a cloud of cheeba smoke to be with grumpy cat forever, horrible prehistoric dinosaurs stalk the fetid swamps of Alabama to show us all that time really is cyclical, and the citizens of Watford drink to forget, why don’t you throw caution to the winds, forget about Tuesday morning and come and join us? The future is here
As the hordes of angular-coiffured Scandinavians pack up their Nord keyboards after another great Escape, as the streets, now so suddenly emptied of skinny jeans and inky neck tattoos, are refilled with the Fringe’s Festival’s twanging of ukeleles and the harsh cries and grunts of overstimulated theatre grads passing themselves off as children’s entertainers, where will you turn to to keep the magic alive as the sun sinks into the glinting glassy sea? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH, innit obvs, where we’ve got the juice to cut you loose courtesy of the tireless ministrations of man like Luke “Tekken” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Last Dragon” Thomas (drms), doing their blues-to-bop-to-latin-to-whatever thing, aided by me on bass in some fashion - the Bee’s team will be there in all their matchless glory, waiting behind the well-stocked bar, and who knows what special guests may breeze in out of the velvet darkness, their hooves or burnished claws clattering over the threshold, their eyes burning red in the spinning head’s flickering glow, their plumes brushing the ceiling, the chill of the night air rising from their brazen scales? Who cares if even Doris has gone a-rollin along out of this mortal sphere, if politics is such a shit-show that they’ve taken Jeremey Kyle off air cos it’s no competition, with froggy Nigel and his team of yahoos flicking V signs in everyone’s faces as their busy little mates gab away to each other like the stunted gnomes they are, Tezza and Jezza pretending to stitch a deal together out of meat scraps and discarded condoms before presenting it to the nation like it’s actually a real thing, and nobody having a clue what’s happening next except that it’ll probably be bad? We’re here and we’re going to have a time, come and join us, join us.
Freezing cold bank holiday, after inconclusively depressing council elections, in the midst of constitutional crisis, is pure VIBE! Real like a Decaff Grande in Game Of Thrones, high like Caster’s testosterone count, lit like a Coachella insta post, as life enhancing as a seagull nicking your chips on your way to see an all-ukelele production of Hair at the Spiegeltent.. if you can’t take any more VIBE, then JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH will be there for you, a benchmark of quality in an uncertain world due to the tireless musical ministrations of Luke “Hawkeye” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Ant-man” Thomas (drms) as they lay out a magic carpet of hot licks cool swing and good grooves for you to climb aboard and soar up up up above the tiresome quotidian cares and the shabby tagged pigeon encrusted rooftops to where you can refresh your soul, you dig… I’ll be there doing something or other on bass, the fearless warriors of the Bee’s Team will be laying out the friendly welcome and quality hooch under the command of their dauntless leader, dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, the creatures of the night will shuffle past on the stained pavements outside and in the darkness at the street’s end the chill greasy sea will heave restlessly beside the tragically tenanted shelters, but inside all will be well… Are malfunctioning Maybots, tearstained Corbyn apologists and drearily resurgent Lib Dems getting your goat? Do your days seem like one interminable Endgame, with only the promise of fresh milkshakes for Tommeh to lighten the darkness? Come and join us, get on the good foot, that’ll show em…jubilant monarchists and ostentatiously indifferent republicans all welcome.