Maharaja Blues

Somewhere beyond the 13th Nebula of Syncopated Galaxy , where rhythm bends light and bebop is the native tongue, the Pink Flamingo —feathered, flamboyant, and fantastically tipsy—executed what he believed was a triumphant exit from the Maharaja Blues show . Alas, his ship jump, calibrated to the wrong groove, launched him not into his hotel suite on Planet Bebop Prime , but into a swirling vortex of modal mystery. There, in the shimmering folds of a pulsar ’s pulse, he met the Spirit of Coltrane —not as a ghost, but as a living waveform, a sentient solo spiralling through space. The Flamingo, still clutching his saxophone like a sacred relic, tried to match the spirit’s cadence. But the time signature was elusive—somewhere between 7/8 and divine chaos. It wasn’t quite “ Giant Steps .” It was Giant Missteps , a drunken homage to transcendence. Maharaja Miku the Bard Bear , watching from the Maharaja Blues mothership , recorded the moment in his gig log: “Flamingo launched at 3:17 AM ...

 An unexpected alarm ‼️ A window found open in the Conference Room at work raised a million questions and perhaps, just perhaps  In the room where no one lingered long, A window gaped with a silent song. No chairs were scraped, no voices stirred, Just a rumble deep and a scent absurd. The lights blinked twice, then sparked with dread, As if the air recalled the lingering dead. A whisper curled through the carpet seam Not quite a ghost, more half a scream. No name, no face, no tale to tell, Just ozone, echoes, and a dreadful musty spell. Yet still it waits, that vacant place, For the spirit that never showed its face. Everytime we tried to upload the following image it glitches. We have found the glitch... Read  the-flamingos-giant-misstep  and all.will become translucent.

We gig in our bubbles, all glisten and glide,   Through valleys and venues where echoes reside.   A pick in the pocket, a mic in the mist,   We float past the border where memory twists. Each bubble’s a capsule of rhythm and sweat,   Of tray bakes half-eaten, of debts we forget.   We roll into Devauden, then bounce off to Bath,   A surreal procession down pub-lighted paths. No vans, no timetables—just buoyant intent,   Our posters like prayers on the breeze gently sent.   We shimmer through Cardiff, through Leek and the rain,   Each chorus a compass, each verse a refrain. The crowd sees us coming—a glint in the air,   A noir little miracle, barely quite there.   We land with a hush, then burst into sound,   A gig in a bubble, not touching the ground. Then off again, floating past hedgerow and moor,   A Cubist migration from gig to next door.   We li...

Yet another juicy anecdote from Maharaja Miku, the bard bear bass hack with perhaps a PhD in poetic non physics and a penchant for parathas, whose dreams of a starring role in CERN were dashed by hefty doses of reality, blasted bureaucracy and a suspicious allergy to neutrinos.  And thus was born his quest for revenge!! The Chapati Collider: A Tale of Spicy Vengeance  AKA, How Miku Flattened the Standard Model with a Rolling Pin Miku the Bard Bear, with a bass in his paw, Strode into CERN with a confident “Haw!” He sang of leptons in lyrical rhyme, And juggled dark matter with impeccable time. But the physicists frowned. “This bear is too bold. His bosons are half baked, his theories too old.” Rejected, dejected, he stormed from the hall Then tripped on a chapati and started to bawl. “Enough!” he declared, with a growl and a glare, “I’ll build my own lab with some flair. No sterile white walls, no Swiss protocol Just chutney, charisma, and a quantum soul!” He hammered and stir...

AKA, How to Uncook a Quark with Style In a palace of wires and soya stained chrome, Maharaja Rich made his particle home. With a crown of equations and goggles askew, He built a collider from kettles and glue. The goal? Quite absurd: disentangle the mess Of bosons entangled in ramen’s finesse. “They’re hiding,” he cried, “in the quantum udon! My Higgs is too chewy—my gluons are gone!” He stirred with a ladle of neutron delight, While photons escaped in a spiral of light. A muon went rogue in the lentil array, And a tau lepton tangoed with strands of sorbet. Carmen, unimpressed, sipped her chai with a sigh: “Your quarks are al dente. The soup’s far too dry.” But Rich, undeterred, flipped a switch with a grin— The noodles collapsed, and the bosons gave in. A burst of spaghetti, a flash of pure spin, The Maharaja danced in his lab made of tin. “Success!” he declared, “with Tonkatsu flair— I’ve split the mesons from angel-hair!” Now CERN sends him postcards, and MIT weeps, For Rich cooks w...

We played in 2024 too. Both gigs were lovely so we thought it needed a little special commemoration. Harbour Notes The tide rolls in with a hush of brass,   Sunlight dapples the decks of glass,   Boats nod gently in rhythm and rhyme,   As music drifts on maritime time. Rich bends notes like sails in flight,   A six-string shimmer in golden light,   Dilwyn breathes blues through silver reeds,   A harmonica sigh where the seagull feeds. The Yacht Club glows with quiet grace,   A haven carved in a salt-kissed place,   Laughter clinks in glasses raised,   While harbour winds applaud, amazed. 🍰 And on the table, heaven laid—   Apple, blackberry, tray bake made,   Golden crust with berry burst,   Each bite a hymn, the soul rehearsed. Each chord a ripple, each riff a wave,   Echoing tales the sea once gave,   And as the dusk begins to fall,   Th...

The Maharaja Blues bubble car showdown is finally here... I know in real life who my money is on.  The Maharaja Bubble Car Race 🦊 Jon the fox with a blues harp in paw,   Played riffs that could rattle your jaw.   His bubble car gleamed,   With chrome that just screamed,   And his solos left crowds in deep awe. 🐓 Maharaja Rich, rooster supreme,   Strummed a resonator with gleam.   His feathers all flared,   As bottlenecks blared,   He slid through the race like a dream. 🐻 Then Miku the Bard Bear took stage,   With bass lines that rattled the cage.   His bubble car thumped,   As rhythms all jumped,   And the crowd roared with sonic outrage. 🐯 Satinder the tiger, fierce and bold,   In a red bubble car that couldn’t be controlled.   He tore through the tune with a thunderous pace,   Eyes locked ahead, not a glance at the race, ...

Part 1 is here ->  Part 1 Harry picked himself slowly off the floor. There was ringing in his head. And there was a ringing outside his head. He dragged himself over to the phone and lifted the receiver. "Hello, Harry, Barry and Larry Investigators. Harry speaking." Harry’s business partner, Larry had dreamt Barry up as a joke. Who's ever heard of a PI called Barry. "Hello Harry, your business partner Barry said you could help me." "Who are you? Where are calling from?" "My name is Miku the Bard Bear and I'm calling from 2023. I have a problem. I'm supposed to be in a band but I cant find them. Can you help?" "I will need to consult with a lady down my corridor called the Postgres. She's your only chance of help. Stay on the line please." Harry strolled down the corridor with purpose and knocked thrice on the door. Linux (pronounced Linus with an x not like the OS he'd been told. He went with the flow. Maps weren...