October 28
So it’s Halloween No-Go for Bobo, and we’re all shuffling our wheely cases on the travelator to the shadow realm, down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, between the musty napthalene smelling coats deeper into the wardrobe and whatever doom awaits .. if ‘dead in a ditch’ can also mean ‘leading us all to glory’ then it’s probably time for you to reinvent yourself as well, and JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH can provide the perfect portal to interface at 5g speeds with the new you, while flocks of imaginary birds fall stunned around your feet, as you can let slip your inhibitions and expand your persona like a billowing cloud of sparkly radiant gas thanks to the mighty sounds emanating from those regents of re-invention Luke “The Hood” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Voice Of The Mysterons” Thomas (drms) as they create a shimmering lattice of musical possibilities to hang momentarily in the air before bursting into a bazillion brightly coloured stars before your poor overstrained eyes… I’ll be doing whatevs as per on bass, the Bee’s Team will be standing by to guide you on your journey towards the new you, sundry honoured guests may materialise out of the ether at your startled elbow, so don’t just sit there glued to your chartered twitter feed watching the Lib Dems start to shapeshift clumsily like Terminator-2 era CGI, or try to shut your eyes and just believe in Strictly, or wait for nuclear fusion to save us all, save us all, or shoot down into your very own Fortnite black hole, while Keith Vaz searches Checkatrade again with tears in his eyes and somewhere out in the cyberverse the busy little bots scurry on their unknowable missions sorting, sorting, sorting you and me and everyone and everything we know… time to spin Fortuna’s wheel, restore some symmetry and geometry to your daily round, shed the old skin, move closer baby…
October 21
If the first time is tragedy and the second is farce, where are we now? The tide of history swells and recedes, leaving the usual manky detritus, beached cetaceans, fragments of broken dreams and promises, waterlogged ineffective petitions, dead jellyfish that look like Mr Gove, bits of rancid old shit, all getting underfoot and messing with your vibe… let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH be your portal through the new reality that’s trembling, immanent, behind the quotidian, the chartered high streets with their sullen queues, the parks with their desperate military fitness grunts and their Tik Tok girls, the alarm’s dread summons in the black morning, the school run and Getting Breakfast Done, the traffic on the clogged greasy ring road on your way to whatever you have to do to keep the wheels turning, all steps leading us towards the destiny that will be unleashed in a torrent of non-biodegradable plastic tat as the darkness of Samhain swells to envelop us all…get ready for whatever cavalcade of poltroonery is about to unfold by soaking yourself in the pure positive vibrations emanating from Luke “SattaMassagana” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Terminator 2” Thomas (drms) as they weave a magical web out of hot licks and cool grooves to keep that darkness at bay, aided in some fashion by me on bass, while the unflappable gilded creatures of the Bee’s team wait, pulsating imperceptibly, in the velvet darkness behind the well-stocked bar, various guests shimmy in out of the nebulous dampness, and we bind together before the coming storm…satire may be dead as the nation stare fixated at the Mother Of Parliaments reeling about like a straggler from a particularly brutal hen night outside Pryzm at 4am, but it’s not over yet, not by a long shot, so let’s have ourselves a time, it’s all to play for.
October 14
Ploughing your way through the mediatized thickets of modernity has never been so tough - will you keep clocking in like a good lil elf, will you superglue yourself to the railings of your convictions, will you double down on your own Reddit derived wall of shouty psychic defences and hope the big lie will see you alright? Grim all over innit.. but wait! JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back, like an oasis of green pastures in the parched shimmering desert of hyperreality… where the ibis clacks its beak, the shy gazelle dips its head, and man like bronzed gods of rhythm Luke ‘Thoth’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Trouble Man” Thomas (drms) get real and lay out a verdant thicket of hot licks and cool grooves for you to get lost in from your own over-stimulated self, plus me doing whatevs on bass, the interdimensional Bee’s team making readiy with the quality liquors, and a host of special guests dropping by and flexing.. as the frame rate speeds up and up, as we all prepare to dive into The Tunnel, as things fall apart and the centre doesn’t hold, as our political class runs screaming through the aisles of their own horrorshow ideological Supermarket Sweep without even a Rylan to guide em while Priti ‘Vacant’ Patel smirks like a school bully and the storm clouds gather over the smashed up play equipment in our poor underfunded playground, don’t let the endless pissing rain get to you, we’ve got space for you all, even the hemp smelling un-cooperative ones… everybody huddle together and repeat, ‘it is what it is, it is what it is, it is what it is’…… come join us, we’ll build a wall against the rising tide.