Super Bee

Hey Zoo Freaks, the Crew just dropped the needle on something special from deep in the Texas rock vault. We're talking "Super Bee" by Buzz Bone, pulled from that double disc set they call Studio And Live. This is the kind of track that makes you lean in a little closer, the kind that carries the grit of Houston clubs and the leftover heat from a band that almost rode the same wave as some bigger names. No big radio push ever carried this one across the country back when it was cut, and that makes spinning it here at THE ZOO feel even better. It sits right in that freeform pocket we love, where the records get to breathe and the stories come along for the ride.

Buzz Bone came together in the mid-seventies after a couple of key players from the Moving Sidewalks decided the music still needed playing. Tom Moore and Dan Mitchell had already put in serious miles with Billy Gibbons in that earlier Houston outfit. When the Army called Moore and the Sidewalks' bassist, the original group wound down. Gibbons and Mitchell kept moving and helped kick off what became ZZ Top, but Moore and Mitchell weren't finished with the blues-rock sound that had defined their early days. They pulled the pieces back together under the Buzz Bone name, leaning hard into Hammond B3 organ and a tougher, more straightforward Texas approach than the psychedelic edges the Sidewalks had explored. The band cut a single called Zing Zang in 1975 on the Silver Bullet label, then spent 1976 stacking up more studio tapes and live recordings that never made it to a proper album at the time. Those sessions stayed in the can for decades until ShroomAngel Records finally gathered them up and put out Studio And Live as a two-disc set. "Super Bee" lives in that collection, one of the pieces that finally got to see daylight after sitting quiet for so long.

What stands out about the whole Buzz Bone story is how natural the continuum feels. These were musicians who had already shared stages with the likes of the Doors and Jimi Hendrix while they were still in the Sidewalks. They knew what a packed room felt like and what it took to hold attention when the amps were hot and the crowd was restless. After the Sidewalks era closed, Moore and Mitchell simply kept the instruments in their hands and the Texas blues-rock language in their ears. The Hammond became a bigger part of the sound this time around, giving the music a thicker, more swinging foundation that still left plenty of room for guitar bite and that loose, road-ready feel you hear in a lot of Gulf Coast rock from the period. The live disc on Studio And Live even swaps in Ottis Coleman on vocals for some of the tracks and brings Dusty Wakeman in on bass, connecting the circle even further into the local Houston scene of the mid-seventies. Those names show up in other Texas outfits of the time, and hearing them all cross paths on the same tapes is pure local history.

The lack of big interviews or social media chatter around "Super Bee" itself is part of the charm. This was never a band chasing the spotlight the way some of their peers did. They recorded what they had, played the rooms that would have them, and then life pulled people in different directions the way it often does. The material sat until a small label that specializes in digging up Texas progressive and hard rock rarities decided the time was right. That kind of delayed release is common with regional bands from the seventies. Tapes get stored, people move on, and then years later someone with the right ears and the right contacts pulls the boxes down and gives the music another chance. When you hear "Super Bee" now, you're hearing a snapshot of 1976 Houston rock that almost stayed buried. The organ work, the blues feel, the straightforward drive—it all points back to players who already knew how to lock in from their earlier days and who simply refused to put the instruments away once the Sidewalks chapter ended.

Getting started for Moore and Mitchell meant learning the Houston circuit the hard way in the late sixties. The Moving Sidewalks had already built a reputation opening for major touring acts and scoring local airplay with songs like 99th Floor. That experience taught them how to write, how to arrange, and how to hold a stage when the lights were low and the crowd was loud. After the draft broke the original lineup apart, the remaining pieces could have scattered for good. Instead Moore and Mitchell chose to keep the blues-rock conversation going under a new name. They brought the Hammond into the center of the sound, which gave Buzz Bone its own flavor while still carrying the Texas panache that had marked their earlier work. The 1975 single and the 1976 sessions that followed were the direct result of that decision. No major label deal, no national tour machine, just working musicians cutting tracks and playing live because the music still mattered to them. That same spirit is what makes the Studio And Live set feel genuine. It isn't polished for a modern market. It is what it is—raw tapes from a band that knew the rooms, knew the players, and kept showing up.

If the track has you wanting the whole package, you can pick up Studio And Live and the rest of the ShroomAngel catalog over at wolfpodscd.com/product-category/shroomangel-records. Spinning "Super Bee" tonight feels like handing the Zoo Freaks a little piece of that history. The track sits comfortably alongside the deeper cuts we reach for when the freeform hour rolls around. You can hear the lineage from the Sidewalks days without it sounding like a copy. The organ gives it lift, the rhythm section keeps it grounded, and the overall feel is pure Texas roadhouse with just enough edge to keep it interesting. A lot of bands from that era left behind more stories than recordings. Buzz Bone left behind the recordings first and let the stories stay quiet. That quiet is part of why the music still hits. There is no heavy mythology to unpack, no endless interview circuit to quote from. Just the sound of two veterans who had already paid dues with one band deciding the next chapter still needed writing. The fact that those 1976 tapes finally made it out in 2013 only adds to the long-game satisfaction. Music that waits its turn sometimes ends up meaning more when it finally arrives.

That is the kind of record the Zoo Crew lives for. Not the obvious hits, not the overplayed classics, but the ones that carry real local DNA and a little bit of unfinished business. "Super Bee" does both. It comes from players who started in the thick of the Houston scene, rode the changes when the draft and career paths shifted everything, and still found a way to leave something behind. The Studio And Live set is the document, and this track is one of the reasons that document was worth making. Keep it locked right here. The freaks know the difference between a record that was made to sell and a record that was made because the players still had something to say. This one belongs in the second category, and we are glad to give it some air.