24th July
Whether you’re a harassed paterfamilias contemplating taking the fam plus your valueless stock of sterling on annual Euro-hols, or a super-woke millennial preparing a fresh assault on identity politics and grammatical usage, or an ageing hipster seeking to refresh your youth at Boomtown’s endless wellspring of chemically stimulated whimsy, or just a regular schmoe wondering bleakly what unpredictable event will happen next, you’ll need a break .. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back once again, coming to the rescue with it’s one-stop-shop of spiritual moral and mental refreshment thanks to the indefatigable musical endeavours of international man of mystery and endless generator of good vibrations Luke ‘String Theory’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest on the inspired polyrhythms Milo ‘Doctor’ Fell (drms), plus me on bass, as the ethereal beings of the Bee’s team wait, lustrous eyes shining as they hover vibrating imperceptibly amidst the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar ready to offer healing libations to the jaded and succour to the disappointed, as the sturdy vendors of Middle Eastern cuisine ply their trade on either side, as the spectral shambling creatures of the night shuffle past in the echoing streets, loud with the trundling wheely-cases of a thousand departing hen-nights and the demented screaming of the gulls and other familiar locals, as Fortuna’s wheel keeps turning bearing us all along on it’s inexorable rotation … who’s going up, who’s going down? Don’t just sit there passively, waiting for Stranger Things while having your data harvested, it’s just too dystopian, baby, so pack it all in, give yerself a break, come on down and join us, join us, time to set the night on fire.
10th July
There you are, tied to your device, trying to think of some nice policies for poor Mrs May, keeping up with Jaden Smith’s endless friend requests (so needy!), wading through the endless effluent tide of fake news items while re-editing your LinkedIn profile for the 10,000th time and keeping up with the weekend’s crop of buff Insta beach shots … exhausting, innit, when all you wanna do is get OUTSIDE in the summer heat.… fortunately JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is on hand ready and waiting to top up your spiritual tan with the healing rays pouring forth like endless torrents of cosmic radiation from an enormous metaphorical sun whose physical manifestation on this plane has taken the twin form of Luke ‘Helios” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Mighty Ra” Thomas (drms), aided in some mysterious way by me on bass, while the ministering seraphim of the Bee’s team wait, poised impeccably in the mysterious scented dusk behind the well-stocked bar under the command of their dashing leader, the dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, and the many-hued, pied and dappled, lithe or ragged denizens of the hushed, darkling streets come blundering in like dazzled moths drawn to the pure unwavering musical flame … let the orange Trumpkin spew forth his empty tirades of ill-informed senile rage, like a really boring Lear at the centre of an airless media storm, let Labour hover nervously on the brink of an disastrous orgy of recriminatory deselection, let Murdoch croak and rattle his leathery wings from his mountain eyrie, let Facebook dogs delight to bark and bite as the nation’s gilded youth fritter away their lives watching Love Island on their phones in a thousand smelly bus shelters, stuff the lot of them, grab your axe down off the shelf and come and join us, good times, good times.
3rd July
As Love Supreme fades slowly out, leaving only sunburn, the glowing memory of gurning drummers smashing out wonky beats, every possible permutation of the altered scale hanging in the summer air, and the soft susurrus of a thousand jazz musicians bitching about the sound mix for Herbie Hancock, it’s time to re-engage with the mundanity of the quotidian, the humdrum of the banal, the inevitability of tuesday.. or there’s JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you can re-engage with those jazzy summery thrills or, if you went to see the Biebertron in Hyde Park instead cos thats more your thing, marvel at the chiselled profiles of Luke ‘Sorry’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Angus ‘What Do You Mean?’ Bishop (drms) as they cook up another nutritious gumbo of fat beats, cool swing, and fleet fingered licks aplenty for your delectation, aided by me on bass, and of course the multi-dimensional beings of the Bee’s team under the command of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan standing by to make with the good liquor.. don't sit around marvelling at the intractability of Tory intransigence til Hell or public sector pay freeze over for good…. don’t get down, don't worry about getting even, get up, get on up get on the scene.…. neither time nor tide are going to hang around so grab your axe off the shelf and come and join us…