NEWLY DISCOVERED... Trip City - reviewed in Record Mirror SIXTEEN YEARS AGO...

From the long forgotten publication, RECORD MIRROR - defunkt in the UK for over a decade...

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RECORD MIRROR 12.16.89
Everybody has heard of Film Soundtracks – But what about Book Soundtracks? A Guy Called Gerald is providing some aural stimulation to accompany Trevor Miller’s novel ‘TRIP CITY’ – and one of those tracks ‘FX’ is out as a single (on the CBS Label).

Craig Ferguson puts down his copy of `The Beano' and takes notes.

You may have been to the party. but have you read the book and heard the soundtrack? The Party? That's warehouse party to you bud. Y'know - acid house, scourge of our respectable society, perverter of pure young minds. The book is 'Trip City'. the debut novel by Trevor Miller, hailed by some as the voice of a generation. The soundtrack, available on cassette in a special edition package with the book, comes courtesy of A Guy Called Gerald, arguably the leading light of the British House scene. It all sounds like a marketing executive's dream, more so now, since CBS have decided to release one of the tracks 'FX', as Gerald's first major single. One wonders, in one's smiley T-shirt and one's bandana, whatever next?

Trevor Miller is fairly certain what's next. He and his publishers are looking to sell the film rights, and the signs are, there will be no shortage of takers. So who is this guy? It should come as no surprise to learn that this naturalised Londoner is a one-time DJ promoter, and -- wait for it, scandal fans - organiser of warehouse parties. And we all thought that it was the work of the devil himself.

"When we started doing them, we never thought that the whole thing would ever get as big as it is now, I think it'll probably evolve into an even bigger monster."

'Trip City' goes where even our beloved tabloids fear to tread, plunging deep into the horrific excesses of big city party life. and taking a swipe at the young high-powered class that both promotes it and revels in it, While all the hype has understandably associated the novel with the acid warehouse phenomenon, neither - of these actually figure directly in the scheme of things. But it is that same 'life-is-a-24-hour-party' attitude that forms the basis of the book. That said, it's doubtful that anyone could lead the 'Trip City' lifestyle of the London drug culture without paying a hefty price.

DOWNLOAD the TRIP CITY Media Kit

TRIP CITY... In the beginning...

London. July 1988. I had been out of college for over a year, couch surfing mostly - squatting a council flat near Gray's Inn Buildings. Back in 1984 Trevor Johnson (A Designer from Factory Records)had turned me on to Rick 'The Barber' from Kensington Market. Rick was an old Northern Soul dancer from Wigan Casino... He seemed to know everyone from West Eleven to West One. All the Mancs who came to London for Punk Rock, all the Welsh-Boys who started the New Romantic thing, and lots of guys on the fringes of club-related drug crime... Rick had the hook-up, and this was my initiation. This was how I became part of the club scene in Central London - a face - a known guy who was on most of the decent guest-lists. Someone who was recognizable enough to score those elusive 'free drink' tickets...

Even while I was a student, I'd been writing for Sounds and Melody Maker - moonlighting as a Video Director with college equipment, and DJ'ing at various venues around town.

That summer I'd shot a video for Martin from Vision Industries - Rick's rival hair-dresser in Kensington Market. despite that rivalry, both Rick and Martin turned me onto HARRY COOK. Harry was a notorious Club Promoter. He'd done the ORIGINAL WAREHOUSE with Phil Dirtbox and Dave Mahoney - London's first underground warehouse party. The Warehouse became the Dirtbox - and in that moment '80's Club Culture began to explode in Central London... It was a strange and incestuous affair. Pop Stars and Fashionistas mingled with the artistic underglass. Everyone scored speed and weed from the same people. We all went to the same pubs, the same clubs... almost like a secret society...

I'm guessing that Harry was one of the first genuine villains that I knew. His brother was in Prison doing a long stretch - drug related crime - but someone had been stabbed. Harry's old Associate was Chris Brick - famous for the Soho store; DEMOB. Later Chris would be charged with Arson, but get away with it, and wind-up in New York...

Harry, Chris and Phil Dirtbox were all from a small town in North Wales - Merthyr Tidfil. This had also been home to Chris Sullivan, legendary promoter from The Wag Club and Steve Strange who was famous for five minutes (with his band VISAGE).

I'm not sure how it happened, exactly - but I ran foul of Harry Cook over a video shoot that went bad. I had to avoid certain pubs at that point. The band I'd been managing CITY SUGAR had also dumped me, earlier that month. It was a bad month. The only chink of daylight was ROBERT OGILVY and LIAM LONGMAN'S (fifteen minute) art movie 'THAT OBESE OBJECT OF DESIRE.' I was starring in it, as an Art Dealer - who was really the devil... I wasn't really an actor. But it didn't matter. Being in this movie allowed me some free food, the odd cab fare, and most importantly designer clothes that I was allowed to borrow. This included a fabulous Jean-Paul Gaultier suit.

One night I was in a pub on Wells Street, near the ITN News Building. It was the near my old College Campus, and I was sure I could avoid Harry Cook here. Strangely enough, I was still wearing the Gaultier suit. That was when Frank Hatherley spotted me. Frank was a lecturer in Television Production at my old college. We weren't exactly friends - but Frank was a straight shooter, and I liked that...

As one might imagine, from my stylish and expensive suit, Frank guessed I'd hit the big-time of some sort. Little did he know that buying another pint would bankrupt me, more or less...

Still, Frank told me that he was setting up a book publishing company with his croney - Brian Aldiss. Frank thought some of my clubland anecdotes might make a good book of short stories. But I had a better idea, and I started to tell Frank about it... Club people, designer drugs, murder and mayhem... I wasn't sure what to call it. Still, this thing would be a novel - a modern day epic. And there hadn't been a London novel like the one I envisaged since Colin MacInnes or the swinging '60's...

Six weeks after signing a deal with Frank there was a first draft - 100,000 words. It was then that I decided to call this manuscript TRIP CITY...