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The Beehive Project
fell together through dead end streets and late night beats.
Preferring to spend their time soaking up the bright lights of the
city then honing their craft they soon fell to the gutter, and
their the dream stayed for a while.
Forged through the hopes of free drinks, late nights and easy
birds The Beehive Project were always gonna be the greatest bunch
of chance’s around, but if there’s a chance there’s always
gonna be some hope!
At the Leeds festival 04, Banjo (vocals), ran in to a loved up
Domic Masters of indie upstarts The Others. After aiding him in
one of his guerilla gigs the boys ended back at Banjos tent for a
smoke and a jam. As the time passes and the crowd masses, the
guitar was passed to Banjo to play a few of his own songs. After
two tunes Dom offered Banjo a gig at the Cardiff Barfly at the end
of the week. All well and good, until you remember that the
Beehive Project was a blag! No songs, no members, one week CRUNCH
TIME!
Banjo had always jammed about with local funeral director Edryd
Davies. He was the obvious choice for a member, and anyway he had
a practice space!
Legs and Banjo had been planning their own personal all out
assault on the face of rock and roll for years previous, but well
keep the plans secret for now. He was also infamous for his guitar
playing. Once attending a jam night in a pub he was challenged to
a guitar duel to which he promptly replied fuck off you cunt, but
joined anyway. After ten minutes of Legs rolling around tables and
chucking our riffs with a guitar slung around the back of his neck
he was asked to leave and left a legend in his own time! Legs had
jammed around with other bands for years, so the Beehive thing
seemed a easy casual thing to do, ha ha fuck that man!
Petrie signifies everything the Beehive stands for, blagging,
chancing and hoping. He began his Beehive flight as a tambourine
player who aimed to shave all his hair off at the end of the
Cardiff show, naturally he was in.
Cuddly Dudley was the orginal bass player, and to be fair he did
play at the Cardiff show, but his disregard for the rock and roll
life and the constant phone calls from his mother just meant he
had to go…Petrie was in.
Petrie did earn his stripes at the show though, smashing tambourines
into his own head, and others, falling off stages and getting the
drinks in half way through the show.
The Cardiff gig was triumph. Nine songs, two smashed guitars, one
fucked drum kit and a whole lot of love. The band were taken
from the stage by a army of new fans and promptly marched to the
bar. The boys promptly went on to drink and dance the night away,
culminating with Banjo storming the stage at the end of the show
climbing the lighting rig and smashing his feet through every bulb
as he hung from his legs egging on the Cardiff crowd.
New admirers abound (remember the t-shirt seller boys!) the lads
were asked back for the next leg on the tour, Wrexham’s Central
Station.
The North Wales boys were back in their old stomping crowd and
ripped it up to a full house of friends, fans and curious on
lookers. Taking to the stage late due to the disappearance of
Legs, the Beehive boys left as local heroes.
After the show the blag became all to real, gig after gig resulted
in fuck up after fuck up. Drugs, booze and birds all had an
effect. The shows became folk lore with music fans in the area.
Stories of members falling through stages, attacking members of
the audience and the infamous drug fuelled bender where guitars
were launched at amps, Banjo stormed off the stage and Petrie
warming up for the gig in the back of the van (three hours after
the gig had ended, he then spent the rest of the nite stumbling
round asking passers by did we win no I don’t know either).
The boys retreated to lick their wounds, and repair their pride.
The farm was the place where they recon structured their whole
sound. A sonic overhaul. The whole thing became a whole lot more
it was real. The Zanzibar of Liverpool was the come back show for
the Beehive boys. They blitzed the night with a barrage of good
old British rock and roll. Injected with a new found sense of
passion the recorded their debut ep. Were Not the Best Band in the
World, just your Favourite was recorded at Autumn Road studio in
Wrexham. The whole record was nailed in one take, and wrapped in a
space of three hours, with an hour for dinner mind! The CD soon
fell into the sweaty palms of Radio Wales new music junkie Adam
Walton. He gave Fuzzy Smoke its first radio play. Due to the
intense feedback the lads were offered a session mere minutes
after the show ended. So that leaves us where we stand now. The
last chancers are doing their upmost to create a worth of that
last chance. After all, we play to live, and we live to play!
17 April 2006
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