Bees Mouth - July 2019

July 22nd

So much summer! Just time to pop your vassal kippers in the post (not long now, little kippers!), then off to the Love Island Experience on the beach for some windswept, pebbly encounters with a handful of insta-crazed shut-ins agog at the presence of assorted scheming muscular nincompoops called things like Eyal… Don’t mug yourself off, turn right around and Naruto run your way to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you can truly Upgrade your Experience courtesy of those gurus of groove Luke “Too Hot” Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest, polyrhythmic marauder Tristan “Bucañero” Banks (drms) as they lift off towards the planet Saturn riding on waves of sonic delight, aided in some fashion by me on bass, and the assorted jam enthusiasts contributing in an orderly fashion, while the ageless sylphs and naiads of the Bee’s team wait in the fragrant shadows behind the well-stocked bar… don’t waste your time gawping at the Cats trailer that looks like Faceapp got crossed with the Island Of Doctor Moreau, or being sceptical about festivals, or reposting that thing about fb permissions so all the bots can laugh at your pitiful monkey-brain naivety, or however else you were listlessly planning to idle away some more of your precious allotment of minutes… Jupiter is burning overhead, the swifts are screaming in the limitless empyrean, the salty sea is swelling, the dust blows forward and the dust blows back so pump up the jam, thats where that party’s at and you find out if you do that.

July 15th

Here you are, dazed with summer, all pumped with vicariously acquired sporting success, flexing with your German whip, your minds’ eye still roaming in the sundrenched musical wonderland of Love Supreme or whatever other outdoor beano of self affirmation you’ve signed up for … but wait? Even as you head for shitty Stansted with your online check-in all done, do the chilly fingers of doubt curl around your swimwear regions? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH banish those cruel intimations of mortality and get you back on the good foot, cos we have those dons of downtime, the eternally beach body ready Luke ‘Too Hot’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Real Don Dadda” Thomas (drms), both pumped and primed to show that summer is a state of mind as, aided in some manner by me on bass, they weave a web of hot licks and cool grooves for you to wrap around your frontal lobes against whatever downers may be waiting behind the burnished cerulean overhead, intimated in the shrill rapid keening of the swifts, hinted at in the patterns of the green glassy waves, in the sudden chill of the breeze at dusk blowing down off the empty hills to gooseflesh your barbecue vibe… in the corridors of power the black silt of bullsh*t is mounting, the president’s busy little fingers are tweeting, Bojo is tying off ready to get high on his own supply of duplicity, Jezza stares at the vacant screen with a puzzled frown, but tonight we will be triumphant, tonight is a night when kings in golden suits ride elephants over the mountains.

July 1st

How you feeling now you’ve felt some sun on your poor soggy skin? Summer’s back like Andy Ruiz so dig out yer flip flops and get back into the flow, time to re-engage, time to move forward, not backward, upward, not forward, and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.. how better to show the machine elves who’s boss than tell Alexa, Siri and the rest of those spying creeps to get stuffed and get your bad summer self down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be celebrating the bittersweet equinoctial decline with the limitless talents of Luke “Heliocentric Worlds” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Outer Spaceways” Thomas (drms) as they smash out another jubilant melee of swing-to-beats-to-blues-to-bop-to-whatever, assisted in some manner by me on bass, as the peerless ascended beings of the Bee’s team wait in the velvet shadows behind the well-stocked bar …now that the flood of fb Glasto critiques has dried to a trickle and there’s no chance of you ever actually watching the rest of it on iPlayer, time to get out and up again.. elsewhere Bojo may lurk among the rotting sun loungers at the bottom of the garden, waiting to slouch towards W1 to be born, Hunt may huff and Hunt may puff, Jezza may scamper all over his climbing wall flicking his vertical eyelids, and the Eurocrats may grumble, gesticulate and throw cheese at each other like the excitable continentals they are, but here outside the perimeter we’re doing our thing, it’s going to be a fine night tonight, it’s going to be a fine day tomorrow, Jupiter is burning bright as the globe swings towards it’s equinoctial decline but all is well, come join us, join us

Bees Mouth - June 2019

June 24th

What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us, time and time over. They are to be happy in: where can we live but days? Days are also for battling hayfever, for getting those beach pix on ur socials, for filming your dodgy neighbour’s dodgy doings, for shooting down drones over the Straits Of Hormuz, for toning up your summer bod, and when all that exhausting stuff is finally over, for JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH cos everyone needs a little time to get away from the angry shouty voice in their frontal lobes telling them to get more woke or to take back control or whatever tiresome confabulation you’ve half-convinced yourself is the solution to the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty, as the juggernaut of collective idiocy continues on it’s hectic path crushing all before it into a bloody pulp… let the musical magic carpet laid at your poor bunioned feet by Luke “The Magic Stick” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Cash Is King” Thomas (drms) sweep you away to a calm inner space where you can realise that it’s all, like, just your opinion man, that nothing matters in the now except hot licks, cool grooves and mellifluous blues-to-bop-to-whatever, that there’s still time, still time… I’ll be doing something or other on bass as per, the peerless Bee’s Team will be waiting, their eyes gleaming like amethysts in the velvet darkness behind the well-stocked bar, thunder will rumble over the deepening green hills outside of town where the equinoctial twilight seems to linger forever, up by the chartered streets beside the chartered Thames Bozza and the other one nobody likes will be doing something unspeakable behind their closed doors as May trails wailing folornly down an endless dusty corridor and Stevie Bannon picks his scabs and pours another glass of hemlock, but we’ll be doing nothing but good things, come and join us, join us, See, cause that's where the party's at, And you'd find out if you do that

June 17th

Are you growing old? Does your face in the morning seem rucked and seamed with alcoholic and sexual excesses, and does the rest of you appear to be a grayish-pink lump, covered all over in brindle hair? Is your sense of smell fading, is your fear of heights increasing, are your sexual drives as ravening and intense as ever and does your beloved partner look more and more to you like a sunken-cheeked stranger who has wandered into your bedroom by mistake? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH won’t fix any of that, pardner, but you can put aside your monkey glands and facial botulism, discard your blue-green algae and your huel, forget about your CBT and meditation, throw your evil spying fitbit into the toilet’s eager vortex, toss your healing crystals and other equally fallacious gee-gaws, and generally cast loose from the whole cloying paraphenalia that’s currently cluttering up the beautiful verdant spaces that wait, still fresh, still pregnant with dewy promise, in the furthermost reaches of your poor chartered consciousness…. let Luke “The Invisible Worm” Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Javier “The High Roller From Fuengirola” Forero (drms) be your guides back to being you, let the music take you higher, free your mind and you assets will follow… so what if we’re being softened up for government by an unelected empty lectern supported by a carnival of popinjay grotesques, so what if the State Department are busy trying to cross the ‘Q’ off their dodgy dossier and write an “N” instead, let the Prolonger Period Of Uncertainty continue to demoralise and defeat, as long as there’s music and moonlight and me doing something or other on bass, join us in the manoir de mes rêves, let’s face the music … wax on, wax off! paint the fence, up, down, up down! 

This post in tribute to the master John Cheever May 27, 1912 – June 18, 1982. 
And in memory of STEVE ASTON

10th June

So much uncertainty, in the macro and the micro! Will your outdoor social event be blessed with sunshine or cursed with freezing boring rain? Will your neighbourhood gak dealer move to a new market as their product finally loses all cred? Is the Moon part of Mars? Will your newly rented Citybike be boxfresh, or will its saddle still bear the angrily puckered roundel imprint of a Naked Rider’s protesting, sweaty anus? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH be a beacon of consistency in a changing world, let the consolations of symmetry and geometry pour like soothing balm upon your poor hunched shoulders, all mashed up by Fortuna’s relentless wheel, let man like Luke ‘Boethius’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘ The Anatomy Of Melancholy’ Thomas (drms) create a magic neural network of hot licks and cool grooves to envelop your bruised senses, let the irresistible ascended beings of the Bee’s team pour you a refreshing libation of quality hooch from their eyrie behind the well-stocked bar, let your troubles slip away as I play something or other on bass and tonight‘s mystery guest gets ready to sculpt the air with shapes of burnished sound that express the innermost truth of their current state of existence on our spinning rock, not part of Mars now or ever..…. don’t let the sads take coercive control, don’t let the spectacle of a ‘leadership race’ in which everyone loses, especially the country, get you down, don’t let your hay fever take back control over your compromised eyes, where we’re going we won’t need roads.

3rd June

You draw a lot of water in this town, but where’s YOUR invitation to the palace? Where’s your effigy as a giant inflatable baby, where are your jeering crowds, why hasn’t Boris done a reverse ferret about your mental capabilities, how come Sadiq isn’t throwing shade on you? Don’t feel down, just get yourself along to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and be welcomed like the international statesman and grand pu-bah that you really are, as the guard of honour Luke “Dr Strangelove” Rattenbury (gtr), terrifying piratical marauder on the high seas of rhythm Tristan “T-Bone” Banks (drms), and me contributing something or other on bass, will all be ready and waiting to whisk you up to the highest heights in our own Airforce One of hot licks and cool grooves, while outside on the teeming pavements the thousands of imaginary Hells Angels, attendant hustlers, movers, shakers, smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers, pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers, all pass by on their own journeys to the end of the night, and out over the darkling sea the stars gaze down impassively upon your little lives, while the susurrus of the shingle’s returning roar carries on its endless litany….. don’t be a stone cold loser, be excellent to each other - party on, dudes

Bees Mouth - May 2019

27th May

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…

20th May

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

13th May

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.

6th May

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.

Bees Mouth - April 2019

April 22nd

Hola! isn’t everything just ticketty-boo? the weather’s peachy, the Mueller report is impeachy, or is it, or who cares? Let horror engulf the faraway shores, here it’s Easter bank holiday and the sun is shining, traffic is tailing back, on the beach a million tribal tattoos stand out proudly against their owners’ angry hot red skin, the roller disco is zooming its’ selfconsciously zany way along the seafront, all is well.. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is ready, even if it seems as though you've drained the last drops of happinesses lager from your plastic aggro-proof beaker, to make your circle of bliss complete before the oppressive clouds of normalcy come swarming over the horizon to harsh your vibe too soon, too soon…. if the unfamiliar levels of sunkissed joy are freaking you out and making you mutter darkly about climate change n’ stuff, if you’re feeling like it’s still on but you’re not sure how or where or why, you can rely on Luke “My Captain, O My Captain” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Real Don Dadda” Thomas (drms) to get you back on the good foot with a rushing torrent of musical good vibes for you to immerse your raggedy self in, aided in some manner by me on bass, while the attendant machine elves of the peerless Bee’s Team wait, shimmering faintly, in the fragrant darkness behind the well-stocked bar, and the flotsam and jetsam of the weekend’s turbulence bob about on the psychic currents outside on the stinking pavement… don’t stay glued to Game of Freakin’ Thrones like an XR protestor glued to Jezza’s railings, don’t be a doubting Thomas, be an eager beaver, come and join us before it’s too late.

April 15th

Are you warm, are you real? Are you just trying to live your best life, beset on all sides by the shitposting of the unrighteous and the quibbling of the pointlessly aggressive regressive and the tediously, incorrigibly woke? Are you in need of the consolations of symmetry and geometry in your life, is Fortuna’s wheel spinning like a comedy beanie worn by Crazy Guggenheim, are you as burdened with Weltschmerz as Frank Butcher on a wet weekend? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH help you iron out the wrinkles in your aura and realign your chakras like some GM-free ducks in a row, courtesy of the network of good vibes spun like a web of silver by those gangstas of hot licks and good grooves Luke “Ghostface Killa” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Inspecta Deck” Thomas (drms), aided in the customary fashion by me on bass, while the perfectly chiselled and well-drilled Bee’s crew under the leadership of their fearless captain Jack Rowan wait to offer you libations of the good stuff….. as the Maybot crawls across Snowdonia with the grace of the Mars Rover in search of another fine mess, Notre Dame bursts into flames like a Gothic Gilet Jaune, Bozza tries to kid us all with another haircut, and Blackpink prepare to reveal themselves as our true masters, it’s time to let them all go hang, get on the good foot and get down to join us, it’ll be very. 

April 8th

Hey kids! What’s that commotion? Is it Ren and Stimpy entering another round of thrilling cross-party negotiations? Is it Jon Snow sliding to the kitchen floor after pulling a whitey at the Ofcom house party? Is it Bojo and Frog face dancing the far-right fandango on a magic no-deal mushroom before an audience of enchanted Brexit bunnyrabbits? Is it Jezza losing his shit to Hava Nagila? Is it hell, Jones, it’s JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH riding out of the West on its golden palomino, ready to give succour to the weak and hope to the afflicted thanks to the incorruptible rigour of those outlaws of good groove and hot licks, Luke “Ten Toes” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Lengman” Thomas (drms), plus me in the role of Sancho Panza on bass, and the superhumanly svelte and accomplished creatures enlisted into the Bee’s Team by their doughty captain, Jack ‘Sparrow’ Rowan, ready to make with the libations of top grade hooch to ease any angst you’re feeling as the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty lurches into the next inevitable stage of its eternal endgame, kinda edgy and boring at once like binge watching the whole Saw franchise while getting wasted on Bailey’s with all your least favourite people from work, whatever that may be…. listen! The globe is turning, Fortuna’s wheel spins, symmetry and geometry elude us still but the hedgerows are sticky with rising sap, the voice of the chiff chaff is heard once again echoing in the distant woods beyond the edge of town, feather footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole, it ain’t over til it’s over.

April 1st

Springtime for Bojo and Greasy Reesy-Moggy, winter for Tezza and Jezza? Springtime for Bercow, dolefully intoning ‘Mr Peter Bone’ thru an endless Escher-mirror of indicative votes, springtime for little Tommy R as his jolly Nazis go into their dance, springtime for little baa-lambs and the giant orange Trumpkin revving up for 2020, springtime for Mr Zuckerberg and his giant pile of pies, what’s happening in the springtime? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH, that’s what’s happening bra, where those doughty champions of cool grooves and hot licks known in this corner of the time-space continuum as Luke “Iron Fist” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Velvet Glove” Thomas (drms) will be weaving a magic carpet of musical vibrations for you to climb aboard and soar high high high into the crisp cool glow of the pellucid cerulean, far above the faint hooting and gibbering of our thwarted elected representatives, the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd, the well-mannered marching of the marchers and the polite signing of the signers, the busy click and switch of the bots and crawlers gathering up your tired soggy data, working stiffs trying to kick back with a brewski, influencers influencing as griefers go griefing and trollers keep trolling, the whole sorry-ass cavalcade of April fools marching on beyond satire and into history, while beyond the tatty edge of town and the grimy compromised verges the yellow broom lies aflame upon the heath and the hawthorn decks out the resurgent hedgerows, as the voice of the chiff-chaff returns to the echoing woodlands and feather-footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole… don’t let it bring you down, come and join us, cos you ride on time, ride on time ride ride ride ride on time.

Bees Mouth - March 2019

25th March

Hey! How’s life on the cliff edge? Too edgy for the edgiest edgelord,the edgiest, so edgy! Even the millions who assembled in important London for the biggest middle-class flex ever can’t stop the edginess - even Uri can’t stop it with his bendy spoons - even Boris can’t stop it with his edgy spaffing - even Nigel the toadman in his giant Barbour coat and his 200 marching elderlies can’t stop it - but don’t lose your muffins, get along to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be defying current trends and laying down some vibes of ordered sanity thanks to the indefatigable talents of man like Luke ‘2Pac’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Real Don Dadda’ Thomas (drms) as they deliver on the real Will Of The People by laying out some hot licks and cool grooves, aided by me on bass, plus the unflappable ascended beings of the Bee’s team emanating calmness, peace vibrations and spiritual unity from behind the well-stocked bar… as history skips the tragedy bit and goes straight for the farce, as all around are losing their heads and blaming it on the illuminati, as Mr Corbyn does the hokey-cokey all alone in his corner, as the Maybot rues that billion quid bung to the world’s costliest proddies, as the Trumpkin prepares a gigantic sickening wazoo for all, as the sap stirs in the bough and the bud breaks upon the branch, as a roseate glow suffuses the western sky over the glassy sea, time to drive dull care away and get your bad self down to where the good stuff is, don’t delay

18th March

What’s up holmes? All wore out from submitting the same attempt at ur sick chirpse for the third time? Hoping to prorogue but no-one’s playing? Attempt at meaningful vote only seems to point up the emptiness of your meaningless existence? Wanted to draw Wolves but Life handed you Man City? Don’t stumble glumly through the chilly drizzle like some Farage-led cavalcade of soggy truculence, gird your loins and stride boldly forth to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and let those masters of the magic music portal, whose material emanations vibrating on on this octave are known as Luke ‘Visions Of The Emerald Beyond’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Between Nothingness And Eternity” Thomas (drms), transport you to a fantastical realm of good grooves hot licks & the real swing thing, aided in some fashion by me on bass, while the peerless denizens of the scented darkness behind the well-stocked bar wait, eager to pour you a healing libation, plus whatever special guests may drop in from the chartered streets outside, sunflowers weary of time, sick roses, tygers burning bright or whoever else really, anyone who can join in with the ideals of peace, unity, communication, creativity and not killing people to satisfy your pain or your bullshit or your greedy little newsfeed…. so don't stay in hoping that 'After Life' will cheer you up cos it won't, come and join us, the world will keep turning, we’ll do a thing.

11th March

Where’s your moral compass? How can you have an opinion when ‘Finding Neverland’ turns out to be too long to actually watch all the way through, when R Kelly’s automotive expertise no longer stands up to analysis, when International Women’s day doesn’t even spark a decent ‘not all men’ pile-on on your feed cos everyone’s too demoralised to moralise… OPT OUT of all the bullshit and OPT IN to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be throwing care to the bitter winds and stoking the inner mounting flames with high-octane musical juice courtesy of Luke “The Last Dragon” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Last Jedi” Thomas (drms) plus me aiding and assisting to the best of my ability on bass, while the interdimensional agents of the Bee’s Team wait, poised in the fragrant shadows behind the well-stocked bar, the bad boys hand out their tasty burgers, Cruella de Ville lays out some more bullsh*t around the neighbourhood bars, the nameless creatures of the night pass by upon their fathomless errands, and out across the land the citizens mug each other off or stockpile listlessly as the promises of Mr Corbyn’s jammy allotment and Ms May’s field of blighted wheat seem to shift and shimmer in a haze of spectral unreality, the cold winds blow across the close cropped turf far out beyond the edge of town, in the dank spaces under the blackened hedgerow the sap begins to stir and feather footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole… don’t let it bug you out, come and join us, we’ll have a time. 

4th March

Here you are, making tracks through this vale of tears, beset upon all sides by the unrighteous, rendered by busy little crawlers scraping your most intimate datasets on behalf of their boringly rapacious masters, trying to spark joy off your soggy surroundings… screw that negativity, get yerself to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be on it like Phil Silvers thanks to the majestic incantations of man like Luke “Ten Toes” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Real Don Dadda” Thomas (drms) as they lay out pure musical intoxication into our lil’ jazzy hotbox here, while the all-knowing, all seeing Bee’s team wait, under the command of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, to administer libations of top grade hooch to ease you gently through to the end of the night, as the denizens of the darkness get into their stride and the winds of change blow in from across the darkling ocean as the waves tear at the ragged shingle, with only 25 days til the giant Momo challenge of Brexmas comes spreading it’s shitty wings across the grubby over-tagged streets of your town… we’ll be here doing our thing here in the warm twilight building musical castles to keep out the bad vibes til they call time on it all, so get along, get along, Twisted Firestarters especially welcome.

Bees Mouth - January 2019

28th January

As the freezing winds of Brexmas swoop down across the glassy sea and into your personal space, like Mr Putin’s icy fingers down the back of your neck, as your emotions are all still a-quiver from trying mix the feels of a weekend combining Burns Night and Holocaust Memorial Day, as you contemplate necking a load of tide pods and yeeting into traffic just to show em all, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH comes riding in just in the nick of time to get you back on the good foot and into it, man, so quit trying to gaslight yourself back into happiness or at least some kinda resignation to Fortuna’s wheel and get some symmetry and geometry back into your life by digging on special guest Paul ‘Fist Of Fury’ Richards (gtr), keeping you safe from harm as he’s equally at home swinging the changes on his pearl inlaid fretboard as he is disabling an assailant with a single body blow, plus Loz ‘The Last Dragon’ Thomas on the drums of thunder, plus me as per on the ol doghouse keeping Argos out of the chill as he waits for master to get back from his trip, while the shimmering sylphs and dryads of the Bee’s team wait poised in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar to make with the quality liquors and whatever guests spin by to shake it loose with us limber up to do their thing, and so can you, so can you, say it loud whatever it may be, don’t go voiceless into the black night, derevaun seraun, derevaun seraun. 

21st January

Here you are, deep into the chilly heart of cuffing season, the super blood wolf moon overhead like a Roger Dean prog dream, harbinger of some tide of earthbound f*ckery that’s waiting to overwhelm us all as our elected representatives bray and bellow like the venal lacklustre lollygaggers we all suspected they might be … regular transmissions of mediated nicompoopery won’t divert us sufficiently from the incoming mediocrapocalypse, but luckily JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH  is back with a big uncut slice of the reals thanks to the warp-speed talent of special guest Mr Al “Crazy Legs” Scott on the virtual piano and Mr Loz “Osmium” Thomas (drms) to take you away from all this boring madness on a magic carpet ride of hot sweet swinging music, aided in some manner by me on bass, with a host of potential participants all ready to chip in with their esteemed contributions, rockabilly rebel Sean ‘Flicknife’ Stapleton presiding sharp as a blue steel blade behind the well-stocked bar, the Bad Boys laying out the tasty burgers, badmashes pulling up to the kerb outside, ice crackling on the windows of your draughty overpriced accommodation, Phil the Greek burning it up like Birdbox in his new German whip, stars wheeling overhead, while far away in the cold distance up on the black frozen hillsides lurking like Grokes at the edge of town, deep under the frozen loam, something is stirring, the sap is ready to move in the blasted hedgerows… get ready, as some shitty little AI program gets ready to convert your living pulse into predictive data and flog it to some other numpty, this is the rhythm of the night, this is the rhythm of my life

14th January

When parliamentary process is just too lit and u just wanna chill, when dogs-in-sunglasses memes are simply no longer enough to express your admiration for correct adherence to legislative precedent, when your enthusiasm for reading other people’s furious explanations of what ‘democracy’ means on fb just dies….. let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH take the tension out of your Brexit extension and get the spark back into your tired lil eyes, cos all you have to do is come down, kick back and chill out to the heavy heavy monster sound as our resident experts Luke ‘Freedom Of Movement’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Eternal Backstop’ Thomas (drms) lay out another feast of musical good vibrations to bring the people together, aided as ever by me on bass plus the promise of special guests galore… as Jezza and Tezza both try to pull off the ultimate sick chirpse on each other while everyone else yells themselves into a state of hyper-osmatically exacerbated inertia, as the wokest post-millenials yell at each other in Hisbe, as Trumpkin picks his nose and stares at the snow outside his lonely window, we’ll be laying out a bunch of smoking hot jazz-to-blues-to-bop-to-latin-to-beats-to-whatever for the people to enjoy just for kicks, so just block all your dreary collapsitarian mates, pull on yer coat n shoes and get down, don’t be all sad like poor Andy, get happy like you’re laughing at salad, come and join us, join us, get in. 

7th January

New Year came in with a smash and already your poor little head is spinning into a vortex of discombobulation, kids are back at school, you’re back at work or something, China is on the dark side of the moon, what’s to do? … slough off your ideologically ambiguous Yellow Jacket and slouch on down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be setting things up for whatever 2019 can throw our way with a shedload of internationally unconstrained blues-to-bop-to-latin-to-groove-to-whatever thanks to the boundary-defying majesty of Luke ‘Unity’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Equity’ Thomas (drms) and they lay out a fresh platter of jazz-related musical goodness for you to load up your extra-size buffet plate with, aided in some manner by me on bass, while the interdimensional entities of the Bee’s Team stand by, waiting in the alluring scented depths of the shadows behind the well-stocked bar to make your guilt-ridden compromised attempt at Dry January as painlessly empowering as possible; as Tezza is ‘seeking further assurances’ and Jezza is ‘biding his time’, as online brexitty yelling reaches fever pitch, as we all prepare to set sail on a fleet of imaginary takeaway ferries, as Greggs continue subvert the patriarchal hegemony via the medium of pastry snacks, who knows what the hell will happen next? Let’s face the music and dance, or something. 

Bees Mouth - December 2018

17th December

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven; a time to lay in on your seasonal purple drank, wrap up the kids’ carefully re-gendered gifts, pretend that sending cards in the physical meatspace mail is still a thing, hone your ‘casual works drink’ mastery skills, gather yourself before the coming storm, and yet still time as well to get your bad self along to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where sh*t will be real and the sound is fresh as ever was thank to the endless ingenuity of Luke ‘We Free Kings’ Rattenbury (gtr), Loz ‘Equisapiens’ Thomas (drms) and special guest Maestro Nigel Thomas keeping it sweet and lowdown on the bass … the air will be laden with the acrid stench of mulled wine, the streets filled with harassed late-night shoppers trying to express their hope that love will overpower mortality via the medium of consumer spending, regular working stiffs and panhandlers alike will be expecting their seasonal bonuses, bells will be ringing, lovely Stacey will be dancing, dancing, dancing, the Trumpkin will be waiting for the stroke of midnight or Mueller, all under the lowering sky as the horsemen of impending Brexitapocalypse gird their fetid loins and our scurrying political class cower in their gilded, endlessly flipping residences muttering their feeble imprecations of votes on votes of votes to try and ward them off, keep them away, drown out the steady thud and flutter of dry, dusty wings circling overhead… don’t let it harsh your vibe, don’t let em grind you down, get up and get down, we still out here…

10th December

How much more of this Strong and Stable stuff can we take? Is Maybot the Delaybot trying to stall while she finds her CV? Is Jezza secretly spraying on the Lynx before bursting forth to pitch his woo to the punch drunk electorate? When will we see the promised TV dance-off setting May’s Brexit Stanky Leg against Corby’s Socialist Hokey-Cokey? If it’s all messing with your equilibrium, cast off all care and come to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be respecting the real will of the people with our own backstop arrangement of good grooves, hot licks and hard swing thanks to the unfettered self-determination of Luke ‘Silent Majority’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Youthquake’ Thomas (drms) as they sail confidently into the glorious future, assisted in some manner by me on bass and unapologetic centrism, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team stand in proudly independent readiness behind the bar, well-stocked with the finest international hooch from our valued trading partners, and the multi-dimensional beings of the night shuffle past upon their nameless errands deep within the wind-blasted crannies of the convoluted, compromised, ageing city clinging on between the chilly shingle and the dark silent masses of the downs lurking in the gloom like gigantic Grokes at the edges of your mind…. we’ll still be here as long as there’s music to play and someone to play it to, til Megatron returns to claim us all as his own, so don’t sit at home on your pile of hysterically stockpiled vegan corned beef substitute, fortify yourself with a big swig of fermented Huel and come and sit in, we still out here… 

3rd December

As poor faithful Curiosity Rover sends us more pix of a bleak, monochromatic wasteland, devoid of intelligent life, like we’ve never heard of Spoons and its jolly Brexitty bossman sir Tim, as the informed debate essential to a functioning democracy descends into an endless round of petulant shitposting, do you feel that your options are slowly withering on the branch to lie flaccid upon life’s tracks like the wrong kind of leaves? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH act upon you like a tonic, free equally of Big Pharma and homeopathic hooey, ready to reinvigorate your frontal lobes with a mega dose of pure hot sweet swinging jazz-and-related-music thanks to the tireless ministrations of Luke “Frozone” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Mr Incredible” Thomas (drms) as they do their thing with both gusto and panache, like those enterprising shoppers at Christian Dior, aided in some manner by me on bass, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s team stand by to reward the righteous with libations of the finest A grade hooch, the Bad Boys line up the patties, the regular stiffs mingle with the mythical denizens of the dusk in the chilly mist outside and the pale-eyed creatures of the night shuffle past to their appointments with who knows what, their shadows striding behind them and rising to meet them from the cold sticky pavements under the sodium glow… maybe you’ve decided against that Air B&B break in Gay Paree, maybe Black Friday didn’t give you anything you really wanted, maybe you’re ready to table a motion of No Confidence in yourself - don’t do it - come and join us instead, it’ll be very. 

Bees Mouth - November 2018

26th November

Now that cushy research post in Doha doesn’t seem quite as appealing, your cruise holiday in the Sea of Azov has been called off, Masterchef is nearly over, nothing to look forward to but the endless hell of yelling Brexitty bullsh*t, followed by Xmas, followed by more Brexit, but now with horrible hench Noel hollering at Holly Willoughby like a malignant but ripped meat dwarf.. let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH swoop down upon you from over the glassy frozen sea, out of the chilly light and autumn’s sere breath from the misty horizon , and bear you up up up upon wings of pure imagination, good grooves, cool swing and hot licks thanks to the imperturbable majesty of Luke “All Killer” Rattenbury (gtr) and the unflappable sang-froid of special guest Angus “No Filler” Bishop (drms), and they lay down some dank stanky sh*t for you to enjoy, aided to some degree by me on bass, and possible special guests of all shapes and sizes, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team wait, poised and ready in the scented dusk behind the well-stocked bar, the bag-o-fish guy hovers in the turbid street outside the steamy windows, the badmashes mix with the Bad Boys over a tasty burger … somewhere far away across the darkness at the edge of town, politicos are plotting, Ms May is dutifully writing thank-you letters to herself in a dark dusty cupboard, Jeff Goldblum enrages a generation of Trinity grads by tinkling the ol’ ivories with a knowing leer, Megatron and Optimus battle for command of the shadow zone, but we’ll be safe in here, good things will be happening, so join us, join us…

19th November

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time for sticking your fingers in your ears and your head under the pillow, and screaming ‘lalalalala’ til it all goes away - and if that doesn’t work, a time for JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be cutting right through through the swathes of misinformational bullshit, celebrity jungle witch hunts, imaginary backstops to backstops, manipulative virtual orang-utans, dank unwholesome memes and needless spiritual shitposting that have been clogging up your poor bruised frontal lobes, and inviting you to join Luke ‘Strong’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Stable’ Thomas (drms) as they set off on a magic carpet ride of good grooves and hot licks, aided by our special guest, the effortlessly debonair George ‘Family man’ Trebar, on bass, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team under the command of their intrepid leader Jack Rowan stand by to proffer good vibes and libations of top quality hooch, and out across the wide wide world all kinds of things go down that you won’t need to worry about for a while - that nice Mr Corbyn tends his polls and offers jam tomorrow, Melania carefully rakes up all the brushwood as Donald looks on, Boris checks his Gumtree ads, The Spice Girls prepare their leadership bid, International Men have a day all to themselves to attend to their metrosexual manscaping , the tectonic plates grind away deep below the earth, Mars keeps the lights on, the last leaves are torn screaming from the stunned trees, Orion lifts above the horizon and winks, and somewhere deep within the chilly urban labyrinth a man fills a bag with stolen fish and sets out into the night… come and join us, you’ll be glad you did, you will. 

12th November

Hey! How’ve u been? Forging ahead dynamically like a Sovereign Individual into our exciting Ayn Rand fantasy of a future? Or bumping sadly about like Trump’s abandoned umbrella on the steps of your own grounded Air Force One? Don’t get all neggy n shit - the future’s as bright as a newly minted Brexit 50p, or if not, at least there’s JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH rolling your way down the tracks once again, so park your imaginary weed-stinking Tesla at the curb and jump on board, cos we’re on the scheduled service to good grooves, hot licks and pure joyous musical energy thanks to the indefatigable efforts of Luke ‘The Conductor” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “ A Pound Off The Topline” Thomas (drms) as they see you safe on your journey, aided in some manner by me on bass, while the Ansel Adams of the Optics Jack Rowan and his team of fearless buccaneers preside over the well-stocked bar and outside on the pavements the heavy stained slabs lie mute beneath the restless cavalcade of human traffic, mammals and MAMILS, some glowing in their youth, some strutting in their pride, some bent double, like old beggars under sacks, knock-kneed and coughing like hags, some just trying to get through to the end of the night, while overhead the satellites are spinning, the galaxies are waiting, Mars still hangs burning in the void as the axis tilt yet again, Fortuna’s wheel sends us careening on the way to who knows where? Vassalage, chaos, the Critic’s Round of Masterchef, its all to play for, so grab yer axe and come join us, what’s to lose?

Bees Mouth - October 2018

October 15th

Feeling a bit edgy? 25 degree heat seemed kinda Mediterranean in June, now it just seems sinister? Oktoberfest on the Level just feels like a tactless Brexitty provocation? Beset by a nagging formless dread? Stop playing psychological whack-a-mole with your deepest, most shameful inner terrors and come and join us at JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where spirits can rejoice and music can be the healing force of your ever expanding laminar universe thanks to the tireless energies of Luke ‘Slowhand’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘A Pound On The Topline’ Thomas (drms) as they power on into the night with the good bait, aided by me on bass and whatnot, and all manner of hucksters jivers, smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers, pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers, plus the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team ready to repel boarders and reward the faithful …. if you’re feeling like some terrible catastrophe is being cooked up by a bunch of scheming no-marks, if it seems likely that the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; if you reckon that the best lack all conviction, while the worst have the mostest Insta likes - if you didn’t manage to book a holiday in Thailand over the approaching endless half-term - if you tried ASMR and it just made you feel creeped out - if you’re a jubilant royalist or an ostentatiously indifferent republican, set aside your differences, hang up your hang ups and come and join us, join us, the season is on the wane, Fortuna’s wheel begins to spin again

October 1st

As M. Aznavourian and Geoffrey fly hand in hand up above the streets and houses, rainbow climbing high, saying bye-bye to this vale of tears, to the smoky tendrils of autumn creeping around us, to those vital Brexit negotiations, now safe in the shabby velour hands of Zippy, George and Bungle, to Mrs May choking back her tears and assuring us we’ll soon be hitting 80 in our German whips, to Trump and his trumping and Ye and his yeyeyeye, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH will be continuing to operate at full strength thanks to the eternal flames manifesting on this material plane as Luke “Killer Dilla” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Driller Killer” Thomas (drms) as they serve up another smorgsasbord of musical delights to refresh your jaded frontal lobes and realign your vibe, aided in some manner by me on bass, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team under the command of their fleet-fingered captain Jack Rowan stand by to repel boarders, bringdowns and buzzkills with their magic healing liquors, the bad boys and badmashes line the glittering kerb outside, stray freshers staggger in circles,and down on the beach where the sea meets the moon-blanched land the planets burn in the sky over the shingle’s grating roar…. don’t sit glued to your stupid phone waiting for the next usage update, that sorta defeats the point, yeah? don’t wait for the hapless collection of backstabbers feebs, schlemils, and sappy poindexters that have somehow ended up in charge of our collective destiny to get their shit together… get down to where it’s on, you can do the milly rock, you can do the stanky leg, you can just do your thing, it’s beautiful baby. 

Bees Mouth - September 2018

Sept 24th

OMG!! Everyone’s gone conference crazy!! Out on the dusty fringes UKIP were really digging into their special thing, angrily floating ideas like big shit-filled balloons to burst over their own screwed up faces, while not even Vince’s erotic spasm could make his lot seem sexy, but that’s small stuff compared to terrifying Brexity monsters now crashing around in the political arena… centre yourself amid the tension by getting down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and taking a deep healing breath, cos we’ve got a lasting mandate to deliver real liberation to everyone everywhere for ever thanks to the steady eye and fearless hand of man like Luke ‘Crypto” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Cash Is King” Thomas (drms) as they demonstrate pure freedom of movement and, like, totally harmonised regulation to deliver another summit meeting of hot swing, cool funk & all kinds of good stuff crossing and recrossing the frictionless musical borders in between, aided by me on bass, while fearless buccaneer Captain Jack Rowan and his crew batten down the hatches and prepare to ride out the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty with their precious cargo of the finest liquors known to man, while Jezza and Big Mac dressed as dandy highwaymen try to ride multiple horses at once, everyone threatens to deselect everyone else, while the Maybot grins fixedly at you from the centre of her burning bush, while Boris sharpens his knife in his stinking basement and everyone else waits to see just what the hell is going to happen next, cos it could go any way, couldn’t it? Don’t sit at home like an unexpected item in life’s bagging area, don’t watch the Bodyguard again, join us, Libdems or mandems, lovers, losers, fighters, baby sharks or tiny dancers, this is real life and it’s happening RIGHT NOW… jack jack jack jack your body.

Sept 17th

It no joke, is it? Beavering away at the digital coalface, trying to keep on top of the torrent of incoming while sharing your outgoing in the hope that someone somewhere cares, sticking your head up above the virtual parapet so your voice gets heard above the susurrus, hurly-burly, mounting hubbub and general frou—frou, as all your bitcoin turns to shitcoin and a host of digital platforms rise and fall like the waves on a boundless boring ocean… JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back to give you a big healing dose of IRL so cut yourself loose and put that spring back in your step, cos we’re back on the regular thanks to the tireless musical audacity of Luke ‘Homeboy’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Cash Is King” Thomas (drms) as they weave another web of good grooves and hot licks for you to get wrapped all around your poor aching frontal lobes, while the fearless buccaneers of the Bee’s Team stand by under the command of their captain Jack Rowan, ready to repel boarders and belay any un-called for argy-bargy to keep the vibe sweet, and the streets outside are alive with all kinds of bad boys, badmashes, movers, shakers, tricksters and fakers, travellers from antique lands, followers of false prophets, dawn treaders and easy riders, and Lib Dems in search of a purpose..... as the spectral calm of summer’s end drifts down from the shining cerulean, as the kids go back to school to try and learn what to do next, what to do next, as the Mercury nominations for Best Artists Previously Nominated For The Mercury Prize remind us all of the simpler days of Myspace, food hashtags and lolcats, as May and her band of backstabbers play Deal Or No Deal with all our futures, as we all seem to be waiting for the next BIG THING to drop, you should take the time out and come and join us

Sept 10th

Holidays are over, you muppets, time’s getting on, there’s no time for any wishy-washy namby-pamby flip-flopping - important steps need to be taken and they need to be taken now by the Adults In The Room, and that means YOU! Time to set your jaw, clench your fists, grit your teeth and buckle up, double down, upscale, downsize and get your sh*t together, and when you’re done, take a deep breath and get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH cos we’ll be flying higher than Elon Musk at a shareholder’s meeting thanks to the magical talents of Luke ‘Laserquest’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Youthquake” Thomas (drms) as they send all bad vibes off for mandatory deselection, adopt all the internationally recognised definitions of Hot Swinging Grooves, and fill the air with music … I’ll be along on bass, fearless captain Jack Rowan will be at the helm with his crew of buccaneers to man the pumps and serve up libations of the finest liquors known to man, the pallid creatures of the night will shuffle past outside, the Bad Boys will be flipping tasty burgers and the local badmashes will be parking illegally just for lulz… as we all wait for Mr Johnson to put his dogwhistle to his lips and cry, you know, havoc n stuff, as Mars burns bright in the sky above, as the earth shifts again on its axis and the sap runs slower, as the last swallows dart low over the drying stubble, let’s keep the faith, people…come an join us, let’s make some noise.

Sept 3rd

As you hang, breathless, poised like a diver on the summers furthest brink, ready for the breath of autumn to bring you crashing down down down, your heart heavy with nostalgia, your skin burnt by the sun... let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH ease your passing into the next phase, cos we’re gearing up for a phenomenal autumnal shitstorm of sound bites as those busy little orange hands peck at the tweetdeck, Eurocrats get their resting bitch faces on for the next round, everyone stocks up on rotten tomatoes for Conference Season,Mr Corbyn mumbles something ineffectual into his beardie beard, Mr Putin smirks into his tea but doesn’t drink it, Netenyahoo spits into his own eye, Boris, “Tommy” and Blotchy Steve B exchange sexy winks, all manner of unholy alliances congeal across the greasy wastes of cyberspace, and the Maybot dances, dances, dances her way along the corridors of power with the grace of a spavined horse... take heart as the team of Luke ‘Boethius’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Fortuna’s Wheel’ Thomas (drms) return to spin a web of theology, geometry and musical good vibes just for you, aided by special guest maestro Nigel Thomas on bass, and all your fave local characters come out to play ..mustachioed Byronic hero Jack Rowan will be heading up the mighty Bee’s Team of fearless buccaneers, the music will be hot, sweet and vital, mars will be burning bright in the sky above, and you should come, you really should. 

Bees Mouth - August 2018

20th August

There you are, chasing down the last days of summer in your gender-neutral floral lycra outfit, keeping it real at the barbie with some Jamie’s Jerk Rice, getting wavy like William Hague, editing your insta beach selfies at the airport, laughing with salad, living the dream… but is it all enough to keep the existential terror of your inevitable extinction at bay? Not quite? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH step in to fill the howling vortex that lurks behind your resting bitch face, cos we’ll be back for reals with those classic-yet-contemporary avatars of vernal positivity Luke ‘Big Trouble In Little China” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Last Airbender” Thomas (drms) as they give vent to artistic expression of pure swinging good vibes to promote that healing feeling out into the ether, so you can just step right up and diver into it like it’s some kinda clear limpid lagoon fringed with coral sand.. I’ll be there on bass doing some stuff, the legendary Bee’s team will be standing by with trans-dimensional libations of quality liquor from deep within the centre of the multiverse, the Bad Boys will be flipping tasty burgers as the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast at any time of day, that psychotic east African dude will be on the corner, ministering unto his disciples with his little radio, the players will cruise past in their muscle cars and the regular working stiffs will be cutting loose and the night shift will be revving up.. don’t stay trapped in the quiet lacuna between the sheer animalistic Id-fest frenzy of Love Island and the rigidly heirarchical Super-ego domination of Bake-Off, get with the beat and come and join us, join us, the time is now.

Bees Mouth - July

July 30th

As Brighton braces itself before the approaching Tsunami of fabulousness about to splash onto our pebbly shores in a rainbow coloured wash with Britney riding the spume like a blinged up Nereid, the fainter hearted amongst us may be tempted to bolt for the holiday break like our noble and hardworking politicians, taking back control by doing nothing at all, but before you hit the open sore that is Stansted in your pursuit of the sun, stop off at JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you’ll find the heatwave is still in full effect thanks to the unwavering front of high pressure created by those masters of groove Luke ‘Gulf Stream’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Tristan ’T-Bone’ Banks (drms) as they get busy at the molecular level to set up a forcefield of good vibrations for you all to come and shelter in … I’ll be doing whatevs on bass, the immaculate ascended beings of the Bee’s team will be waiting, poised in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar, the creatures of the night will come and go, come and go on the crowded pavement outside, the velvet darkness above the crumbling rooftops will be alive with stars and possibilities, and you should really get out of that subreddit you’ve been stuck in, shitposting your way to loneliness, and come and join us as we celebrate whatever the hell is going to happen next, leave your hangups at the door and come and get down with the good groove, you know it makes sense…

July 23rd

The lambent cerulean envelops us, stretching above like a giant resounding bell sending waves of heat in a noiseless tocsin to drown the petty concerns of our time-snarled mortality, each second swollen with warmth into a motionless moment, the only movement from the screaming swifts riding the soaring updraughts… which is just as well, as our mortal affairs have never been in such a hopeless frickin mess, so it’s just as well that JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is here once again to provide a moment of clarity in a world where ‘would’ means ‘wouldn’t’, ‘Deal or No Deal’ is now a current affairs programme, no-one understands whether a ‘Tory Rebel’ is one of the idiots in a top hat or one of the other idiots trying to thwart them, and the only credible opposition to it all is too busy arguing about how rude you can be to Jews to get themselves together… luckily we have the united front of Luke ‘Chief Whip’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Black Rod’ Thomas (drms) doing their thing to create a better world by filling our little corner of it with a force field of hot swinging blues-to-bop-to-whatever, aided in some manner by me on bass, and the embodied vibrations of positivity known on this plane as the Bee’s Team standing by ready with the quality hooch to ease your troubled mind… don’t hunker down in a dingy basement, stockpiled with Huel against the coming Brexitopalypse, waiting for the invisible worm that flies in the night in the howling storm to seek out YOUR bed of crimson joy, don’t watch another youtube video as long as you live, don't forget the petrichor will return, don’t give up, don’t lose that number, just grab yer axe off the shelf and come and join us, let’s do a thing.

July 16th

As the sun beats endlessly down from the unblemished cerulean, is there a shadow starting to cloud the edges of your overstimulated consciousness? Maybe all those plastic straws you used in the 90s have precipitated the next level of climate change, maybe the Love Island bods are just bots, maybe the internet isn’t really a force for good, maybe it won’t be alright after all? Thanks god it’s Monday and JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back to offer a safe haven in the ominous shitstorm brewing up outside, where nothing’s coming home except Brexit, as the government crumbles away into a puff of acrid dust, the inflatable Trumpkin and Mr Putin snicker and pass each other secret love notes at the back of the class, and Elon Musk reveals himself to be every bit as spiritually stunted as we all suspected, cos we’ve got Luke ‘Lightsabre’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Cosmic Vibrations” Thomas (drms) sending out a counterblast of pure musical good vibes to top up your feelgood factor and send you out ready for whatever new example of howling idiocy the week may have in store… I’ll be along doing something on bass as per, Captain Jack will be at the helm with his trusty Bee’s crew ready to slake your thirst with libations of top grade hooch, all kinds of good things will be happening, so hang up your hangups, get on the good foot and come and join us, let’s make it happen.

July 9th

Off they go hand in hand… exit from Brexit Island for Mr Davis AND Bojo in their Union Jack bikinis, (but who’s getting mugged off here?), entry for the invincible head of Mr Maguire on his enchanted inflatable unicorn of magical footballing wish fulfilment, while the giant inflatable Trumpkin prepares to treat us all to a round of maximum high-security golf .. if you can’t possibly imagine what might be about to happen next, don’t get stressy, let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH be your anchor, cos we’re back once again like the D4 damagers spreading peace, love and power to the people through the medium of hot swinging blues-to-bop-to-whatever thanks to the tireless efforts of Luke “Renegade Master’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Ill Behaviour” Thomas (drms) as they lay out a magic carpet ride powered by good musical vibrations to lift you high over the sun-scorched rooftops, baby seagulls, daredevil scaffolders, boy racers, paddle boarder show offs, those wierd leathery old men like desiccated mummies in tiny tiny cut-off shorts who only appear on the beach when there’s more than three days of consecutive sunshine, sweating unhappy goths waiting for the darkness to return, a thousand jubilant geezers sporting their deepening salmon tans, and the acrid smoke and stench of scorched flesh from the beach barbecues, as the radiant sun beats down from the peerless azure until Venus hangs low over the horizon and the languid zephyrs kick up the dust…I’ll be doing something or other on bass, the supernatural ascended beings of the Bee’s team will be laying out the quality hooch, your favourite creatures of the night will all be there, so quit lolling about in from of your overheated screen, lurking behind your digital blackface as you seek further shitposting opportunities, quit casting about for a Bojo joke that hasn’t already been made, quit your fruitless brexitty speculation and bask in the knowledge that no-one knows anything anymore, get back on the good foot and come and join us, be a shining star and keep your head to the sky….

July 2nd

England in, Germany out? Willy Hague frees the weed, sun shining on bank holidays, double Dyer whammy enriches our cultural and political lives as Dani weeps and Danny deploys his finest geezer vocab to elucidate the finer points of Brexit in ways that poor Maybot can only dream of as she slowly withers away like a witch with a chimney on her.. if you feel you’re living in a dream world where anything is possible, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH returns to reassure you that it’s all part of the plan, so come and bask in the permanent zone of high pressure created by those masters of the musical isobars Luke ‘Heatwave’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Scorchio’ Thomas (drms) as they scoop up all the millions of notes left lying around in heaps after the weekend’s Love Supreme jazzfest and refashion them into delicious slices of cool swinging bop-to-blues-to-whatever to slake your parched cerebellum, plus maybe some souped-up bossa (dependent on final score) … I’ll be there playing something on bass and yelling like a nutcase, between the sun-baked stucco cliffs the streets will resound with the rubbery whisper of the flip-flops of a thousand excited/despondent latinos, the golden denizens of the endless ultraworld known in this dimension as the Bee’s Team will be waiting in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar to slake your thirst with some quality liquor - don’t bother trying to get wavy like a rebel for the last time before they make it legal, don’t be a sulky Messi, be an exultant Drogba, grab yer axe and come and join us, let’s celebrate.

Bees Mouth - June

June 18th

How will you feel by 9.30 tonight? Like a fearless lion taking back control, setting the agenda, cutting your own deals on the world stage, basking in the fierce heat of the big golden dividend? Or like a miserable cringing loser, cowering and snarling like a whipped cur at the big dogs strutting past and ignoring you as you tremble and piss yourself under the table? Or are you just going to make out like you’re so evolved that you just don’t care? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH will be there to help you celebrate in ways the clean cut yet manly Mr Kane* can only dream about, or wipe away your bitter tears of defeat, or just generally help you deal with the feels, cos we’ll have the true dream team of Luke ‘The Golden Striker’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Crusher’ Thomas (drms) ready to lay out another hot & spicy gumbo of simmering blues-to-bop-to-whatever to satisfy whatever craving you may be afflicted with, I’ll be doing some kinda something on bass, plus the interdimensional A-listers of the Bee’s team will be ready to lay out the quality liquor at your command, and the usual cast of waifs and strays, hucksters and hipsters, high rollers and low riders, and the nameless denizens of the liminal spaces just glimpsed out of the corner of your eye at the end of the echoing street will be dropping by to check out the vibe… now that gamers can prove that they’re addicts like everyone else and not just regular dweebs or schlemiels maybe we’ll even see some of their pasty little faces as well… come one, come all, grab yer axe and come and sit in with us, the time is now. 

*“He does not go to nightclubs, preferring to use his free time to play golf.” Parker, Sam (3 June 2015).Esquire. Retrieved 27 August 2015.

June 11th

As London still reels from the weekend’s triple whammy of Nazis, nudists and suffragettes, like a Lars Von Trier movie in reals, and Brighton resounds to the whisper of chafing flesh and clicking gears as the Naked Bike ride and its display of liberated, predominantly male sex organs on wheels retreats into the bruised collective unconscious for another year, how are YOU on this sunny day? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH take over for the evening, be you chipper, or fearful and tearful, like bad things coming, cos we’ll be here once again in our vibey little heterotopia thanks to those master enchanters Luke ‘Sun’s Out’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Guns Out’ Thomas (drms) as they weave another web of good grooves, hot licks and pure bop-to-blues-to-whatever to wrap yourself in and reconnect with the huge ever growing pulsating brain that rules from the centre of the ultraworld…. I’ll be up to something on bass as per, the nodes of pure cosmic energy that manifest themselves on this plane as the Bee’s Team will be waiting to make with the quality liquors at your weary, hopeful request, the nameless creatures of the night will awaken to pace soundlessly past on the warm, stained asphalt outside, high in the darkening cerulean the swifts will fly in tireless pursuit…. maybe the upcoming footerfest will inevitably descend into yet another example of the UK making a disorderly retreat from an international organisation, maybe Kimmy and Donny just won’t be able to play nicely together, maybe you’ll never be beach body ready, don’t worry, don’t get mad, come and join us, it’s gonna be a stone groove…

June 5th

The festival is finally over, taking it’s ladyboys, ukeleles, and calculatedly artless Shrigleyesque whimsy away with it for ever and ever, and now you’re here in the sorta-sunsine, still nervous about getting trampled underfoot by the whisper-quiet rampaging of the sinister cult-like Silent Disco crew, but alive, that’s the main thing… fill the suddenly yawning cultural chasm in the centre of your life with a visit to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH, where instead of watching Love Island for the next eight weeks glued to the soiled coverlet of your tawdry sofa you can boost your own internal ratings and recouple with the wellspring of hot swinging bop-to-blues-to-groove-to-whatever that finds it’s physical expression in the sculpted forms of Luke “By Royal Appointment” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Fire In The Hole” Thomas (drms) as they smash out another evening’s worth of enriching musical good times …. I’ll be doing something or other on bass, the Bee’s team will be attentive, yet respectful, like the multidimensional ascended beings they are, so come and join us all, parents celebrating the end of half term, pedagogues worn and jaded from composing another mountain of admonitory feedback in the relevant boxes in the submission software, nutcases, swagmen, barkers, mountebanks, smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers
pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers, come and join the carnival, it’s not over, it’s not nearly over, it’s the beginning of the rest of what’s to come.

Bees Mouth - May

28th May

How are you, as this Bank Holiday draws to a close? Feeling blessed as some “New Look” royals at their wedding disco? Running for cover from big Brexity thunderclouds getting ready to dump their sh*t all over your sh*t? Lost as Taylor in Swansea, smashing it like Stormy D, raging like Ramos or sad like Salah? Quit your kvetching and get yourself down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be living it large and colourful as the last reflected embers of the sun sinking into the glassy sea, thanks to the tireless talents of Luke ‘By Royal Appointment’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Angus ‘The Dank Commander’ Bishop (drms) as they take us on a magic carpet ride of swinging blues-to-bop-to-whatever, high, high into the air over the scarlet castellated ramparts and crimson minarets, into the pellucid vault where the swifts dart, the scented air alive wth their tiny cries, the towering nimbuses edged with gold, the first star hauling into sight above the darkling forests of the horizon… I’ll be doing something or other on bass, the nameless legions of the night will come and go in the echoing street outside, the immaculate naiads and dryads of the bee’s team will be on hand to make with the quality beverages, we’ll be playing some stuff and you can come and join in so don’t sit in the smelly darkness getting your measly data harvested yet again by some non-GDPR compliant digital vampire, put on yer huaraches and come and give it yer all, time’s a-ticking.

21st May

There’s no more Great Escape to fill the streets with the musical expression of a thousand pairs of introspective skinny jeans… there’s no more expensive pageantry for Republicans to practice their furious indifference on… even French Montana’s new Boohoo line seems to have run dry of creative inspiration.. it’s enough to make you click on ‘Opt-Out’ on the big GDPS e-mail of life as we go back to the dreary unspooling Brexit farce .. but wait half a mo! JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is still there, waiting behind the numinous shimmering warmth of midday til the evening comes and we unleash another dose of electric kool-aid acid test sound and colour thanks to the positively synaesthesic talents of Luke ‘By Royal Appointment’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Jean-Paul Marat’ Thomas (drms) as they turn on the taps to release an endless refreshing torrent of hot licks and cool grooves to speak to your own inner kandy koloured tangerine-flake streamline baby….I’ll be doing something on bass, the regular Bee’s team will be there to make with the libations of top-notch hooch, the nameless legions of the night will be doing their thing on the endless pavement outside, and we’ll all be pulling together to keep our microcosm on the good side til the End Times come to take all the hate mongers away so put the sweary fun of Deadpool 2 aside for a little longer - if you’re lost and alone, if if your feelings about Rapture-inducing embassy relocations can no longer be expressed by even the dankest of memes, if you’re caught in the irreconcilable culture gap between Solo and Deadpool 2, don’t sweat it, grab yer axe down off the shelf and come and join us, join us, it’s gonna be ok.

14th May

Ahoy! Time to cast aside the creative ambiguity and make with the positive engagement cos summer is sorta here, we’re nearly done with shivering in the chilly Spiegeltent and wondering at the timeless grace of non-binary performers from the exotic east, our beaches have already been blessed with the scarlet-and-blue of tattooed sunburn and perfumed with the chemical stench of disposable barbecue, and JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is rolling on it’s way in Helios’ scorched wake into the depths of the awaiting summer, with those prophets of the canicular days Luke ‘Lightspeed Champion’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Angus ‘Phew Wotta Scorcher’ Bishop (drms) ready and eager to whip up a storm of hot swinging blues-to-bop-to-whatever, aided by me on bass, as the aetherial beings of the Bee’s team wait, more radiant than ever, poised in majestic readiness behind the well-stocked bar… if you seem to hear a thousand twangling instruments humming about your ears, that’s just the inevitable massed ukeleles of the fringe festival, and if in dreaming the clouds seemed to drop such riches upon you that when you waked, you cried to dream again, well we’ve all had weekends like that, haven’t we, but don’t let them get you down, the Trumpkin hasn’t managed to blow everyone’s house down yet no matter how he huffs and puffs, so grab yer axe off the shelf and come and join us, join us, life’s what you make it.

Bees Mouth March 2018

March 26th

So spring is here, Big Brother is finally revealed to be a camp pink-haired Canadian, the Beast From The East continues to gain depth as a metaphor while Stormy Daniels is revealed as far, far more than a high-pressure weather front, Zizzi has become the edgy frontline of a new cold war amidst the outrage of the nation’s saturday shoppers, and Nigel F*cking Farage is still with us, pissing about with some dead fish….. confused? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH provide your disordered cerebellum with some context to sort out the wheat from the chaff and the sheep from the goats, by sending a rushing torrent of musical good vibes in your direction thanks to the tireless ministrations of Luke ‘Sturm’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Drang’ Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, and the regular crew of highly evolved multi-dimensional beings waiting behind the well-stocked bar to pour you libations of the finest liquors known to man, plus the regular crew of shimmering shapeshifters, nameless creatures of the night, schlemils and schnorrers, schmoes, weepers, jeepsters, souses, hopheads and the occasional stuffed shirt…. if the turgid sludge of disinformation pushing it’s way onto your compromised newsfeed is messing with your vibe, if all your data has migrated onto the darkweb and is now trying to kill you, if you just can’t tell which way is up any more, then just remember your device isn’t implanted yet, hit ‘off’, grab yer axe off the shelf and come and join us… soon the voice of the cuckoo will be heard across the land, the woods at dawn will be alive with the wild cleansing cacophony of tiny cries, out across the swelling tide the herring will begin to spawn, the world turns on it’s axis, we’re still here and so should you be…

March 19th

Bored of weather that only climate change deniers are enjoying? BoJo’s Latin tags failing to raise a smile? YouTube’s freshest face plants barely raising a callous smirk? You need to get out more, so photoshop yourself into a big furry hat and snowshoes and get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be raising the temperature with the torrid stylings of Luke ‘Fahrenheit 451’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Thermonuclear Sweat’ Thomas (drms) as they cut loose with another turbulent yet perfectly choreographed melee of bop-to-blues-to-beats-to-whatever, aided by me on bass, guaranteed to warm your non-gendered cockles despite the unintelligible protestations of that chilly Dr Peterson and his online army of intersectionally aggrieved gonks, while the lambent pellucid denizens of the mysterious shadows behind the well-stocked bar wait, vibrating imperceptibly, to pour you a libation of quality liquor under the watchful eye of dauntless fret-meister Jack Rowan... quit pining for the carefree Zorbing days of summer, stop your twitchy little fb fingers delivering the last vestiges of your so-called personality into Cambridge Analytica’s bottomless maw, put yourself and your opinions temporarily beyond the reach of Vladdy ‘Laughing Boy’ Putnik’s busy bots ... don’t get mad, don’t even try to get even, just get down to where the good vibes are, we’ll be waiting.

Bees Mouth - February 2018

February 26th

The chill winds are here, the snow swirling like the frozen tears falling soundlessly from Iain McNicol’s sad centrist eyes, eddying the lost souls trying to stave off their inevitable demise with military fitness in the blasted parks, the politically de-homed trying to survive the city centre winter in their discount tents, the working stiffs shivering at their mundane bus stops, the hardened thrill-seekers setting out in search of love or lulz… JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH will have you in out of the cold quicker than a Pyongyang downhill luge team just by rocking up and basking in the musical radiance pouring forth in an untrammelled stream from those twin creative hypernovas Luke ‘Big Chill” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Big Ill” Thomas (drms) as they transmogrify themselves into clear channels for transmitting the purest essence of swing-to-funk-to-bop-to whatever to drive that spiritual hypothermia away and get your core temp back up to where it should be… I’ll be on bass, the gently shimmering ascended beings of the Bee’s team will be on hand under the watchful eye of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, ready to make with the quality liquor at your merest whim, the vibe will be strong and the juice will be loose… as those fun-loving Italians go all retro-mad for fascist vibes, as sweetly beardy Mr C boldly mounts two horses midstream, as poor mad Mrs May runs slowly but surely out of political sellotape, as musical recycler Rag n’ Bone man sweeps up after setting fire to the West Pier like a badman, why don’t you just leave em all to it for an eve and give yourself a trip to the good side with us, you know you won’t regret it…

February 19th

Hello, you! Still here? Maybe your BAFTA invite got lost in the post, maybe the Olympic tea-tray downhill team deleted u from the Whatsapp group, and now you’re starting to fade out of your highschool yearbook photos and behind your brave tats n’ piercings there’s just a howling void of interdimensional emptiness, like something from an HP Lovecraft joint (but without Howard’s fave white supremacy angle, natch - it’s 2018!) - well, rest easy, cos JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is right back here to pick you right back up onto your mahabi shod feet and back into the world of the living, the bold, brave and beautiful… jump aboard with Mr Luke ‘The Fast’ Rattenbury (gtr) and returning hero Mr Loz ‘The Furious” Thomas (drms) as they set off on a journey of musical adventure, hot licks, dope grooves, sick beats and augmented harmony so there’s something for everyone, aided by me on bass, while the shimmering sylphs and naiads of the Bee’s team wait expectantly in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar …maybe Mr Weinstein never returned your calls, maybe other people are barely bothering with Othering you anymore, maybe even the Russian bots aren’t that interested, maybe your yoga shred put you in A & E and then you found there was no A & E because of UNDERFUNDING…. whatever your woes we’ve got the juice to cut you loose so don’t get mad, don’t even try to get even, just get on down to where the good stuff is..

February 12th

It’s a jungle out there.. in the cruel wind your hapless pedestrians are scurrying home to a vindictive evenings work doxing each other at will.. bad allies are buying up the Britney tickets .. the whole gender face swap thing is awakening feelings that the feelers never knew they had as everyone else is getting kinda creeped .. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH can be an island in the stream of endless poststructuralist goo flowing past your poor quivering frontal lobes as your mindfulness turns to mindf*ckery and your fragile identity cracks and splinters in the unforgiving frost.. let jolly boatman Luke ‘Charon’ Rattenbury (gtr) and pirate chief Tristan ‘T-Bone’ Banks (drms) ferry you safely across the turbulent waters, aided by me on bass, and let the healing power of hot licks cool grooves and top quality blues-to-bop-to-whatever calm your troubled soul ... as the nation’s leaders rage impotently at each other while the nation watches helplessly like a traumatised child huddled at the top of the stairs while his angry drunk parents yell at each other about ‘separation bills’ and ‘transition periods’, as the smiling Koreans keep skating, skating, skating away, as everyone suddenly feels all icky about those cheap box sets they bought from Oxfam, as more and more wierd shit reaches out from your telescreens to grab you, we’ll be keeping it warm and funky just for you, so don’t get mad, get on down and join us.

February 5th

Cry havoc and lets loose the dogs of whatever.. while you’ve been stuck at home, trying to offload your enfeebled cryptos to a bigger cuck or desperately tweetdeck your way out of the hole, your fitbit ready to burst keeping up with your stress levels, your mindfulness vids on youtube repeat view nausing you out with their subliminal flat-earther messages and an inner well of loneliness brimming over no matter how hard you right-swipe - JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back today, ready to shower your parched psyche with the healing rains like a stick, like a stone, like the end of the road, like the aguas de marco, pouring down in an endless rushing stream from those twin founts of talent Luke ‘The Weatherman’ Rattenbury (gtr) and everyone’s favourite pirate chief Tristan ’T-Bone’ Banks (drms), with some form of assistance on offer from me on bass and the usual radiant ascended beings of the Bee’s team manifesting on this earthly plane just for you…. let’s face it, what else are you going to get from the online? Another piece of brobdingnagian offensiveness from Mr Trump and his busy scurrying cynical little twitterfingers? Another evening weeding out your DVD collection, you sad Babyboomer, as another 70s star of stage or screen gets MeToo’d into the outer darkness? Another concoction of tendentious tripe from whatever attention seeking opinion generator the algorhythms are sending your way on this cold bleak beautiful night? Switch it all off and come and join us where the vibe is free, the music is hot and sweet, the mysterious creatures of the darkling hours are out in force, everything is beautiful…

Bees Mouth - January 2018

29th January

Signs of flux and change are all around.. the streets are full of sad-eyed President’s club regulars, looking for love in their stained and rumpled black-tie, the Tories are in thrall to a spider-toting fireplace salesman like something from Bond as scripted by Partridge, the privileged and connectivity-empowered are flinging hashtags back and forth at each other while everyone else ducks for cover.. let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH provide you all with a much-needed break from the sheer, y’know, longness of it all, and create a lovingly curated heterotopia where you can forget about your ongoing struggles to zuzh up the meagre collection of tics and tropes that you think of as your identity and just lie back in the rushing torrent of good musical vibrations bursting forth like an ever-flowing stream from the twin creative powerhouses of Luke ‘Timeless’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Tristan ’T-Bone’ Banks (drms), gamely aided along by me on bass, your senses soothed by a healing libation proffered by the spectral avatars manifesting on this plane as the Bee’s Team under the command of their bold leader … as the Trumpkin pretends he’s never even looked at the wedding list or knowingly linked the word ‘first’ with any sovereign nation, as the Maybot squawks and flaps her dusty wings, you just kick back, let dogs delight to bark and bite, let trolls lurk in their smelly rank ditches beneath the virtual bridges over which you once delighted to trip-trap, let the endless round of frantic signalling continue as out there beyond the perimeter things get ugly, ugly, ugly….. don’t get mad, don’t even try to get even, just get down to where the good groove is happening, it’s ok, we’ll be waiting.

22nd January

Here you are, midwinter, huddled in your flimsy heterotopian refuges like flyblown cattle, gazing through giant tear-dimmed eyes at the sorry parade of fatuity as it scrolls across your tethered devices, a carnival of filibustering know-nothings fretting and strutting their little hour upon their media platforms - don’t get mad, don’t try to get even, get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and let the whole sorry crew go hang, cos we’ll be creating our own plastic-free microclimate thanks to Luke ‘Isobar’ Rattenbury (gtr) generating areas of high pressure, hot licks and imperturbable swing, and Loz ‘Solar Storm’ Thomas (drms) tapping into some deep geothermal grooves, plus me on bass, and the bronzed harbingers of endless summer who comprise the Bee’s team standing by with offerings of the finest liquors known to man... winter’s hired goons may be waiting at your door ready to lay their tiresome seasonal trip on your poor freezing bones, yet out across the darkened fields at the edge of town the sap is starting to rise in the withered hedgerow and in the inky depths of the sea the herring are starting to spawn ... join us, let’s get the fires burning.

15th January

Is this the best that 2018 can come up with? Journos saying ‘shithole’ on the radio? UKIP glamour models expounding eugenics for morons? Waiting for Jezza to say something he hasn’t already said in the 80s? Marillion jokes about Carillion? Jeremy Hunt and Chris F*ckin Grayling? Thank your interdenominational deity (if any) for JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be keeping it so fresh and so clean thanks to those twin titans of good groove Luke ‘The Velvet Fog’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Tristan ‘T-Bone’ Banks as they bust loose with an overflowing cornucopia of hot licks and life-affirming grooves ... if you already feel jaded, if the grey is getting to ya, if all around you seem sunk in pusillanimity and vacuous posturing, if even your most committed signalling on social media just seems like screaming into an empty stinky void, if the best lack all conviction and the worst are full of passionate intensity, if you still can’t say ‘veganuary’ with a straight face and your woke chums are getting totes vexed, then you need to hang up your hang ups, get on the good foot, grab yer axe den off the shelf and come and join us... it’s all to play for, what are you waiting for? Come on, come over...

8th January

G’wan, admit it, you’ve got the winter blues! Even with all 3 TV screens going full pelt, your shirts on the floor, your toothbrush under lock and key and a triple cheeseburger in your chubby little orange paws, you still feel the frigid iron breath of winter whispering over your comb-over, pulling at your heels, messing with your Netflix n’ chill - it’s time to get onto the good foot, and JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is here right on cue to take your poor frightened hand and lead you into the light, thanks to the matchless skills of Luke ‘Game Of Thrones’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Thermonuclear Sweat’ Thomas (drms) as they unleash a blast of pure healing musical good vibes in every direction, iaded by me on bass and the aetherial beings of the Bee’s team ready to make with the quality liquors… the seasonal family guilt trip of Xmas is past, you’re over pursuing the phantom of pleasure through the guilty maze of dissipation, the frantic search for the ultimate hedonistic fulfilment on NYE has turned out to be a wild goose chase yet again… far away in the stuffy double-glazed corridors of power Brexiteers are sweating and plotting, Ms May is reshuffling her stacked thumbed deck, that kindly old Mr Corbyn - remember him? - is beaming beneficently at everyone while Jon Landesman looks up ‘youthquake’ in the OED for the umpteenth time, Toby Young is leering guiltily at himself in the mirror, like a man farting in a hot car while eating a scotch egg, the usual suspects are psyching themselves up to deliver whatever fresh farrago of bullshit they can spray at us all for the usual tendentious justifications… no need to run, and hide, it’s a wonderful wonderful life, come and grab yer axe down off the shelf as join us as we light a fire, its going to be a fine night tonight.

Bees Mouth - December 2017

18th December

As we hurtle through the gathering equinoctial darkness, our twitchy fingers skipping across the keyboard as the 1-click ordering gathers pace, as our poor overstimulated cerebellums yearn for the Jungian memory of the days when all that the season expected of us was to get naked and dance around a bonfire, as the freezing night is rendered foul with the stench of mulled wine and the harsh carking cries of disgruntled Brexiteers … JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is on hand to provide sanctuary for your own bad self, so come and deliver yourself, not into the dreary frustration of the metaphorical sorting office or neighbour’s porch, but signed-for and straight into the welcoming sonic sanctuary created by the matchless talents of Luke ‘Hermes’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Tristan ’T Bone The Barbarian’ Banks (drms), aided by me on bass, while the heavenly messengers of the Bee’s team will be waiting, arrayed in garments of matchless splendour, under the watchful command of their leader, the dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, to make with the quality liquors at your command - so bring your top game and your Migos flow down to the party and let’s have ourselves a time… another cycle is nearing it’s end, Fortuna’s wheel is about to rev itself up again, so time for everyone to climb aboad - fighters, lovers, losers and winners, malignant spambots, broflakes snarling thru their tears, presidential twitter trolls and penniless Brexit agitators down to their last 73-grand-a-year, signifying vegans and recreational outrage addicts, bitcoin revolutionaries turning into Daddy Warbucks thru the magic of capitalism, pro footballers and other outcasts, amateur dancers, multi cultural royals and Uber drivers… give up yourself unto the moment, the time is now…

4th December

Calling all you woke gender-diverse humanoids hacking your way thru the kek-infested forests of 4chan, all you porn-addled Brexiteers gripping white-knuckled onto the loosened steering wheel, all you virtue signallers, lulz addicts, fitness disciples being shouted at in chilly parks, proselytizing vegans, Alpha-course saintly homophobes, compulsive FB signifyers waiting hungrily for the next pile-on, fashionistas, baristas empty vessels and whited sepulchres.. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH can give you the space you need to just, y'know, get a little distance from yourselves ... come along and let us tear a big blissful open space in your crowded buzzkill of a schedule, and let your poor trapped spirit escape through it and be borne aloft on trembling wings upon the effervescent updraughts rising in giddy spirals around those twin lithic titans of groove Luke “Mezozoic’” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Holocene Invader’ Thomas (drms) as they lay some truly righteous life-affirming sounds upon you all… I’ll be there doing my thing on bass, dandy highwayman Jack Rowan will be in command of his troupe of aetherial beings, ready to minister unto you with libations of the finest liquors known to man, all manner of folk will be passing by, from students making ready to release their brains from the burden of knowledge to haggard Family Guys just trying to do the right thing by their little creatures blinded by the headlights of approaching Xmas, from steely-eyed Momentum apparatchiks to simpering Moggistas, from Mail reading royalists to stern republicans both wrestling with simultaneously feeling overjoyed and appalled by the Markle factor, to wide-eyed ingenues embarking upon their first tentative steps into the world of showbiz via their teenage screamcore combo, to regular working stiffs trying to make their way thru the century as their bodies turn to house-dust… It’s all to play for, come and join us, join us …

Bees Mouth - November 2017

27th November

Giant fireballs have been spotted in the sky, heralding today’s announcement of an upcoming orgy of royal oageantry, with the promise of potential royal scandals and decades of royal conspiracy theories to follow up, while the kids get al excited, the nation steels itself against the inevitable coming tide of work-related seasonal parties followed by seasonal hangovers and a rich cloying stench of mulled wine permeates the crowded streets Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH come to your rescue, as you hunker down in your digital foxhole, your poor infiltrated brain unable to distinguish Merkel from Marklle, Bitcoin from bubble, or right from wrong; let the music take control, hang up your hang ups and let it all blow as the musical doctors Luke “Lazarus’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Big Daddy’ Thomas (drms) write you a personal prescription of premium strength jazz-to-swing-to-whatever, aided by me on bass, plus the regular team of ascended beings manifesting themselves behind the well-stocked bar to lay some good liquor on you in exchange for lucre, the spinning head of destiny weaving it’s magic spell and the gallant figure of Jack Rowan at the helm, piloting our ship of good vibes through the sorrowful night laden with the groans of the wicked, the imprecations of the disappointed and the blandishments of the sellers of empty vessels and the inchoate howling of hordes of feral Brexiteers as the reality sinks in and the money drains away…… leave it all behind you, go to Abi’s fundraiser at the Paris House then come over and join us as we set sail for the good side …

20th November

Only 5 more weeks of Amazon Prime delivery dates before Xmas, so don’t just hunker down in your damp overpriced dwelling like some kinda stubborn Bobby ‘Laughing Boy’ Mugabe, while Mr Putin’s busy little bots crawl all over your webspace trying to subvert your carefully wrought FB persona for their devious ends - time to pull on your snood and your Ed Sheeran hoodie, wipe the weekend’s glitter from around your sunken eyes and get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be keeping it lit and saying goodbye to peak times with the mandem Luke ‘Big City’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Lozzfather” Thomas (drms) as they spin a magical web of shimmering sonic architecture to dazzle and delight the senses, aided by me on bass, while the bronzed guardians of the well-stocked Bee’s bar wait imperturbably under the command of their leader, dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, and the myriad hordes of interplanetary drifters swing by on their way to the end of the night for a refreshing snifter… let the high and mighty cower as the stinking spectres of their egregious misdeeds come tap tap tapping at their reputational windows, let mournful liberals delete Louis CK from their Youtube favourites, let the masters of Brexit foam at their slack-lipped mouths as they cry ‘mutiny’ and prepare to unleash the dogs of, you know, whatever it is that’s supposed to happen next, we’ll be here doing our thing, so come along and make it your thing too…

13th November

So how are you going to stave off the atavistic fear terror as the Dark Half encroaches, drawing you into it’s chilly embrace? Stay home, play FIFA, indulge in a little light sexting, calculate how rich you’d be if you’d bought Bitcoin, watch Strictly, pretend you actually watched Stranger Things, weep quietly into the curtains, put the John Lewis ad on repeat, panic binge on acai and blue-green algae? You’re cracking up, mate - hurry down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where those fearless cosmic cowboys Luke “Odelay” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Vybz Cartel” Thomas will be waiting to restore your sanity and rejuvenate your mojo with a great big life-affirming statement of good grooves, hot blowing and cool swing, like there’s nothing really wrong at all… I’ll be there on bass, the kindly denizens of the Bees Team will be on hand to dispense healing draughts of quality liquor, the regular cast of otherworldy spectres and fearless explorers of the golden void will be dropping by to hang, the air will be warm and laden with promise… out there the chilly gloom may resound to the dreary discords we’ve wrought, the flatulent eructations of Bojo, the muffled sobs of poor Mrs May who still can’t go yet cos they need her as a human shield, a whole pack of fell beasts, their hour come at last, slouching towards Brexit to be born, the weary groaning of whole IT teams removing all trace of Kevin Spacey from all movies past and future (too late), the uneasy braying and bellowing of alpha males across all sectors wondering if they’ll be next, the distant hooting and gibbering of the Trumpkin from far far away across the sea… come and join us, don’t be afraid, come catch some good feels with us, it’s gonna work out, you’ll see…

6th November

As the upright citizens of Lewes furtively wash the boot polish from behind their ears and scrape the burnt cork out from under their fingernails, as the nation’s doggies start to recover from their PTSD and the kids come down from a week-long festival of dressing up as horror movie characters followed by a jolly evening of burning people in effigy, how will you deal with the downer as evocative autumn slides inevitably into boring old winter? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH top up your spiritual vitamin D faster than an Essex tanning studio - just bask in the invigorating rays pouring forth from the interplanetary talents of Luke ‘Sunspot” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Thermonuclear Reaction’ Thomas (drms) as they generate another solar storm of swinging jazz-and-related-musics, aided by me on bass, while the highly evolved denizens of the shadowy spaces behind the well-stocked bar wait, vibrating imperceptibly, to lay some good beverage upon you all …. stop trying to offshore your pitiful earnings to Bermuda in the hope that you’ll enjoy a right Royal tax break, give up trying to work out how to mine Bitcoin in Minecraft, don’t sit at home waiting with bated breath for Mr Trump’s ‘What I Did on My Asian Holiday’ podcast, or trying to see how a multiple shooting can be Not About Guns, or sit on your sagging bean-bag lost in jaded speculation as to who will be next to feel the icy grip of a Sexual Impropriety Scandal around their grey, terrified neck…. grab your axe down off the shelf and come and join us, let’s get into the groove and keep the gathering dark at bay….

Bees Mouth - October 2017

30th October

Farage… Assange… Trump…. Bannon…. take a look at their bulbous eyes, their wierd spongy foldy necks, their weaselly shifty little eyes.. sense their oily presence, their wheezy, shallow breathing, their gross little grunts of excitement as they lurk behind your fb feed, their damp fingers pawing at your browser, dripfeeding their retarded agenda into your poor overstimulated cerebellum… cut that sh*t right out of your life and get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you can rinse it all right out of your hair and bathe your bad self in the endless torrent of clear healing musical good vibes gushing forth from the tireless cornucopias of groove known in this lifetime as Luke ‘Lux Aeterna’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Lozquake’ Thomas (drms) as they unleash their flow yet again, aided by me on bass… the undimmed splendour of the Bee’s team, under the direction of dandy guitar-slinger jack Rowan, will be waiting behind the well-stocked bar to pour you libations of the good stuff, the mewling waifs and strays from the end of the night will gather to warm themselves at our constant flame…. as the nation celebrates the feast of Samhain in their own age-appropriate way, with the children preparing for an hectic evening of haribo-fuelled importuning, the nation’s young adults recovering from a premature weekend of sexually charged cosplay, and everyone over 50 reminding each other that it was never such a big deal in their day, come and take a break from it all, recharge your mojo, get on the good foot, liberate your mind, move move move every mountain, come and join us yet again, my friends, yet again, before the year withers upon the vine, but not for ever, not for ever……

23rd October

As the town reels from the twin assaults of uncharismatically monikered Storm Brian and the annual influx of students anxious to turn their massive loans into pure empowering knowledge via the transmutational power of lager, how will you be spending your Monday night? Glued to twitter in the hope of more salacious Hollywood revelations to decry on Facebook, or vice versa? Stuck into some light trolling? Chasing those Snapchat streaks? Get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and letting all the trash corrupting your poor bewildered 21st century consciousness wash away, as you bathe your mind in the torrents of healing musical magic pouring forth from the enlightened beings manifesting on this plane as Luke ‘TurboBoost” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Terminator’ Thomas (drms), aided by me on bass, as we lay down a wholesome smorgasbord of bop-to-swing-to-latin with plenty of good nutritious groove… forget the oncoming seasonal gloom and the impending Haribo-fullled hedonistic car-crash of Halloween, cos here in the warm scented darkness we’ve got great music, special guests, the oracular spinning head, the highly evolved beings of the Bee’s team waiting, poised effortlessly in the velvet shadows behind the well-stocked bar, all ready to make with the absolving powers of alcohol at your timid request, and the usual cast of hucksters, barkers, shills, roustabouts, dweebs, feebs, fakers, shakers, tipsters, hipsters, and heroes drifting in out of the clammy darkness… as Spain prepares to slowly tear itself into little scrappy pieces under the eager gaze nationalist blowhards everywhere, as the Halloween Trumpkin continues to singlehandedly perfect the new art of Tourette’s diplomacy, as May continues to insist that nothing has changed, nothing has changed, nothing has changed, as strife and idiocy rampage unchecked through the muddy autumnal fields, catching their unshod feet on the slimy stubble of the rotting harvest, it’s time to get to where the good vibes are, let’s light the fires.

16th October

As the sun turns a hellfire puce and darkness engulfs the earth, leaving the cowering populace to decide whether it’s the End Of Days or just a very costly promo for Blade Runner 2049, do your thoughts turn to all those things you meant to do but didn’t get around to? When the Big One goes up, will you rue the witty put-downs you never tweeted, the statuses you didn’t share, the WhatsApp groups you didn’t pointedly leave? Have you actually been to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH yet? cos if not, we’re back once again with the renegade masters Luke ‘Apocalypto’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Dan ‘The Law’ Breslaw (drms) as they defy the coming storm to weave their intoxicating webs of musical enchantment, aided by me on bass, and the aetherial beings who manifest on this temporal plane as the Bee’s Team wait, poised and ready behind the well-stocked bar, to dispense libations of the finest liquors known to man…. if you’ve finally realised that most of your online friends are bots, if you’ve just been sent an invite to a Miramax slumber party, if you swapped all your bitcoin for pound coins, if you’re wondering just exactly what terrible thing is going to happen next, time to give yourself a break, fight off your addiction to online outrage, tear your weary gaze from the glowing screen that does nothing but reflect your deepest fears and worst impulses back into your terrified eyeballs, and come and join us here in meatspace where there’s music, life and laughter and positive vibrations from actual life-forms in real-time 4-dimensional space .. try it, you’ll love it.

9th October

Your life needs shaking up a bit, doesn’t it? Why not host your own referendum? Those things are the best way to guarantee an almighty tear-up that’ll keep everyone you know at each other’s throats for years to come.. or you could try starting a groovy Tory party youth movement.. or invite Harvey Weinstein round to meet your mum .. or come along to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and get things turned around back to the light side along with your ever-rocking team of Luke “Lightspeed Champion” Rattenbury and special guest Dan ‘The Law’ Breslaw on drums as they build magical castles of hot sweet groove into the air, aided by me on bass, as the young heroes of the Bee’s team under the command of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan wait, poised in the scented dusk behind the well-stocked bar, as the darkling streets echo with the whoops and yells of the newly arrived student population as they extinguish their thirst for knowledge with deep draughts from the well of lager-fuelled self-importance, as each window frames a shadowy figure hunched over a glowing screen, as the shadowy creatures of the night shamble forth upon their mysterious errands, as attack ships catch fire off the shoulder of Orion and C-beams glitter in the dark neat the Tannhauser gate… grab that sackful of pound coins you were saving for your retirement fund, get yer axe down from off the shelf and come and join us, join us.

2nd October

As Spain proudly re-engages with its rich tradition of brutal state suppression, as the Tories prepare to demonstrate their well honed skills at screwing everyone over upon themselves, as yet more evidence emerges of the freedom-enhancing efficacy of US gun laws, as a tidal wave of howling idiocy threatens to carry the world on a careening terror ride, like an unlicensed Uber driver high on his own price surge, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEES MOUTH will be operating according to our usual beliefs of tolerance, equality, diversity and pure hot swinging grooves delivered by those maestros of good vibrations Luke ‘Killer Joe’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Lozquake’ Thomas (drms), aided by me on bass, while the cherubim and seraphim of the Bee’s Team wait, poised, their gilded wings folded behind their sculpted backs, their radiant eyes shining just inside the spectrum of visible light, their incarnate beings vibrating at a higher frequency as they prepare you a libation from their selection of the finest liquors known to man.. the atmosphere will be alive with purest osmium as the last colours of the summer drain imperceptibly from the smoke-scented air, the creatures of the air prepare for the long journey southward again, Fortuna’s wheel takes another turn and the earth shifts upon it’s axis … in the dreary reaches of the compromised corridors of power Boris may be preparing some fresh concoction of sinister buffoonery, Davis may be drunk and asleep, Hammond may be demonstrating his utter panic by threatening to sack everyone before they sack him as May huddles, weeping, in the stationary cupboard, while all the time the Corbynistas’ chanting echoes through the walls like the neighbours in ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ and the Brexit train rumbles ever closer on it’s rusty crooked wheels, but we’ll keep on swinging til we can swing no more, so grab yer axe off the shelf and come and join us … out here in the perimeter there are no stars, out here we are stoned, immaculate.