Banksy 'Barely Legal' show in LA...

It was great to go to the Bansky 'Barely Legal' show in LA - but not really because of the artwork. My old high school friend Adam Lawrence was over with FHM to photograph the event. I haven't seen Adam in almost twelve years. He didn't look any older - and was in terrific good humor. We had a brief lunch with Morris, went to Disneyland with Lee Coan (from FHM), and had an amusing dinner at Musso's with Bansky's publicist Jo Brooks, her partner Jackie, and a posh lad from The Times called Luke Leitch. Above is a great picture of Margie (taken by Adam) in front of the much publicized 'painted elephant.' Also in attendance (aside from Brad & Angelina and Keanu) were my friends Mr. Miles (Siggins) and Dean Karr. Solomon (Mansoor) was doing the door - phew - what a blast-from-the-past. Haven't seen Solly in years... LA just keeps getting smaller and smaller... For the record, I really want to thank Nick Egan for getting me on the list... It made me feel special and connected again... Which, as anyone who knows me is aware, I'm certainly not. Well, not these days...

August 22nd 1993... 13 years later...

Thirteen years ago, to the day, more or less I arrived in Los Angeles. I had flown from Gatwick airport in London, via St. Louis on the now defunct TWA airline (once owned by Howard Hughes). It was a horrifically long flight, and the four hour stop-over was dire... John Rutter (pictured above) picked me up from LAX in a small rental car. I remember feeling very hot and tired when I got off the plane... John drove me to The Rainbow Grill on Sunset (pictured below), where he regailed me with rock 'n' roll tales of Axl Rose, and we drank tequila.


I felt strangely thrilled at the time. I'd escaped London. I had the promise of a fabulous job, and when you kicked around with John you ended up kicking around with pretty girls. John was always genial and self-depricating. I felt good being around him. But at the end of a very long evening after talking-things-up and making plans, John drove me to the top of Bel Air. We parked and looked out across the twinkling vista of Los Angeles at night... In the immortal words of Tony Montana, John said "all this could be yours..." What a strange and eg-maniacal moment. Was really that drunk and tired, or had I just become intoxicated with John's bullshit..? Maybe a mixture of all three. Still, thirteen years later 'all of that' was NOT MINE - and that's okay. I'm not sure that I would want 'ALL OF THAT' anyway.

Los Angeles remains the most vacuous and maddening of places. Shallow? Yes. Infuriating? Absolutely. A cultural desert? Most likely. Still. thirteen years later, I realize that it's an okay place to call home. I'm healthier than I've been in years. And, most importantly without being in Los Angeles - I wouldn't have met Margie. She has stuck with me through thick and thin. She can also be maddenning - but, at the same time is a constant inspiration to me. On August 22nd, 2006 - Margie and I went to Zankou Chicken. Not very fancy after 13 years, I know... Still, I remember thinking that my life is pretty good, and I love Margie very much...

For the rest of you who stuck by me in LA - I treasure and value your friendship... Even John - I hope I can find where he is incarcerated and try to visit him... What can I say of thirteen years? It slipped by in the blink of an eye...

Remembering David Bergstein

I first met David Bergstein in 1993 in John Rutter's rented house on Laurel Terrace Drive. I had only been in Los Angeles 72 hours at that point. It is now thirteen years later -almost to the day - John is in jail and David is currently producing the new Sidney Lumet movie that stars Philip Seymour Hoffman. I last saw David at some point in March, and in many respects he has never changed. He is consistantly the most bizarre, humorous and engaging individual, while at the same time completely maddening. He will never return phonecalls for months, then out of the blue call me up on the phone. He has been my harshest critic, yet at the same time my biggest supporter - and in some cases, he has been my patron and benefactor. David is an expert in causing havoc. He is adept at making anything seem possible, yet similarly exists outside the realm of possibility. He is generous. He is also cheap. He is ruthless. He is also kind, at the most unexpected moments... I'm sure he is causing havoc in the film business, as we speak. Still, in a world filled with boring bankers, silk-suited accountants, and young execs who wish they were Ari Gold - David is a maverick, a visionary, and a pool hall hustler - all in the same breath... If he were a character in a movie, he might be indescribable. As a character from my life, he remains both a rallying point and a cautionary tale... He is pictured here wearing at hardhat at the groundbreaking of Le Dome restaurant which he owned briefly. I will leave the Village People wise-cracks out of this story - instead I'll keep the fond memory of when he drove my parents to the Costa Mesa mall, or when he came to Margie's suprise birthday party and handed out Cuban cigars... David is splendid, remarkable and ultimately impossible to fathom... I'm not sure if he's a poor man in a very rich man's life, or a rich man living for the hustle and wishing he was still poor... I don't think he was ever in it for the money. I'd like to think he was in it for the thrill... Of course I can't be certain... But now and then I chuckle, and hope David is still fighting the good fight...

Phil Dirtbox rides again...

I couldn't resist posting this photograph of the legendary Phil Dirtbox - resplendant in a rather unsual, and vaguely Mr. Pickwick-like hat. Apparently this snap was taken at the 2005 Clerkenwell Literary festival. I imagine Phil was performing poetry, as he has a microphone in his hand... Strangely enough I spoke to Phil on Wil Blanchard's cell-phone about 6 months ago. That would be the first time I spoke to Phil in a decade. Oftentimes between then and now Michael Holden would regale me with Phil Dirtbox stories... Anyway - I realize how hum-drum my world is without the likes of Phil on the horizon each week. Phil introduced me to the likes of The Final Program, and the finer points of pub Karaoke... So, here from Los Angeles Phil Dirtbox - we salute you!

Nathan McGough - Connecting with old friends... (PART ONE)

This is the first of a series of new posts. In the process of hustling TRIP CITY around town, I have been reconnecting with a few old friends in the UK... The last time I saw Nathan McGough was outside The Spice Of Life Pub about fourteen years ago. I have known Nathan since I was a teenager, and it was great to trade emails with him, especially after over a decade. Currently Nathan manages the Towers Of London - who were just on at SxSW... I'm hoping to see him, in person, in LA very soon... A big shout out to Nathan... And here is a plug for the Towers Of London...
VISIT The Towers Of London - OFFICIAL SITE
Towers ON MYSPACE!

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...

SPECIAL FX
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...

Long live the Jason King...

Margie and I watched NAPOLEON DYNAMITE on pay-per-view last night. For some reason the character of Uncle Rico (played by John Gries) held a bizarre fascination for me. Perhaps it was the fact that Rico reminded me of guys that I'd worked with in Canoga Park - valley dudes with blow dried hair and Tom Selleck moustaches. Back in the day, while working at Metropolis, failed football-jocks with yet another get-rich-quick scheme would pass through the office daily. They all seemed to live in places like Monrovia. Thay all had a special product for sale. Usually something they'd discovered that would suplement their income, and pay for that blissful two weeks in Cabo or Costa Rica... The schemes verged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Selling stock in a Country Club that hadn't been built yet. It was somewhere in the high desert... Not exactly the best place to erect a golf course. There was also phoney Travel Agent credentials being sold as some pyramid scheme, and a hair restoring product (called Flourish) discovered by someone's dad in Israel. My favorite was probably the Personal Trainer selling a garish blue aphrodisiac tincture with the dubious name Rock Hard... That was the name of the aphrodisiac, not the trainer... But back to Uncle Rico. I realized, this morning, that he actually reminded me of the British TV character JASON KING...

Growing up in England, in the early '70's, the Jason King show was the most popular thing on TV. If you were a teenage boy you wanted to be Jason King. If you were a girl, you wanted to be with him. Jason King was like James Bond, only better. He was pure 1970s kitsch - crazy clothes, a bevvy of exotic beauties in tow, and the biggest handlebar moustache ever to grace the small screen. KING was a spin-off from the succesful espionage series DEPARTMENT 'S.' But it was much more bizarre. In the show, Jason was a succesful pulp crime novelist - writing the Mark Caine books. Each week he would be called upon by the British Secret Service to unravel some international crime/mystery. This basicallly consisted of him jumping on private planes, shagging lots of birds in exotic locales, and wearing the most ridiculous menswear that you've ever seen. Jason King pioneered the massive collar, the flared slack, and the tie-knot that was bigger than a fist. I actually remember one wide collar shirt being known as 'the jason king.'

Jason King was played by an Australian heart-throb, Peter Wyngarde. Forget Austin Powers. This guy was the real deal. Not only a gourmet chef, and raconteur - in 1971 - the King show made Wyngarde the most famous man in the U.K. When he arrived once at Heathrow airport, he was mobbed by thousands of female fans. He was voted the sexiest man alive in the British Press. Rumors abound that Wyngarde had been involved with Vivienne Leigh, and numerous of his female co-stars.

The Jason King show only ran for two years. But it bought Wyngarde a jet-set lifestyle much the same as the character he played - a vast country estate, apartments in London and Rome... Still in 1975 disaster struck. Peter Wyngarde was arrested for performing 'Lewd Acts' with a Truck Driver in a Men's Toilet at Gloucester Bus Station. At the time, this scandal was far more explosive than Kevin Spacey being 'caught in the park,' or George Michael entrapped in a Beverly Hills Bathroom. There were no 'Gay TV-Stars' back then. And Wyngarde had been a hetero-heart-throb. He was trashed in the press. The female fans felt disgusted and betrayed... In short Wyngarde's popularity plummeted. Apart from a few B-Movies, and a brief return as a villain in Sherlock Holmes, Wyngarde was never seen again...

It seems strange how times have changed. If Wyngarde was 'outed' more recently, he may well have survived. You probably would've heard of him. Still, I'm guessing that you've neither heard of him or Jason King. As far as I'm aware, the Jason King show is rarely played on U.K. TV - even in re-runs. I'm certain it's never played on U.S. TV (unlike The Avengers, The Prisoner - et al). However, some say Jason King paved the way for The X-Files, with a series of unexplainable and supernatural-tinged crimes... I can't help but think that the 'burying' of Jason King is due, in some part, to the Wyngarde Scandal... All that being said, I'm trying to buy Jason King DVDs on ebay.co.uk... It's extremely rare, and was only released once in 1993...

For those of you who do remember Jason King, I've found a few Wyngarde/Jason King websites... If you're my age, you probably had the shirt, maybe even a King-Style Cravat. I hope you can share a moment sometime this week, and raise a glass to the long lamented Peter Wyngarde... As they say, from the days of Empire... Long live the King... Long live the Jason King...

Visit the Official Peter Wyngarde site
VISIT Jason King's Groovy Pad

Camp Freddy

Pictured left is BRITISH ACTOR Tony Beckley, who played the character 'Camp Freddy' in the 1969 Michael Caine car-chase flick 'The Italian Job.'

Pictured right is the band 'Camp Freddy' (Billy Morrison, Dave Navarro, Matt Sorum, Donovan Leitch , and Chris Chaney) who took their name from Beckley's character in the movie...

I am listening to the Camp Freddy show on Indie 103.1... These guys serve-up an interesting mix of music and chat, early every Saturday evening...

For those who are interested in local trivia, Tony Beckley died in Los Angeles on April 19, 1980. He was only 53, and was buried in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

VISIT Camp Freddy Show
READ Tony Beckley's Obituary

Fergus Greer and Leigh Bowery

I had coffee yesterday with my friend Fergus Greer, which was nice, as I haven't seen Fergus in some time. Fergus is fresh from the opening of his Leigh Bowery photo-exhibit in New York - by all acounts a raging success. For those of you are unfamiliar with either Fergus or Leigh Bowery - Mr. Bowery was a very influential artist/performer in London's golden-age of clubland. Fergus is a photographer of international renoun, and his images of Leigh Bowery have been shown across the world. If you have seen a photo of Leigh Bowery, it was probably one of Fergus' pictures... Like I say, it was good to see Fergus in such good form, and I hope that his new (top secret) project is a great success... The world is full of photographers, especially Los Angeles, but Fergus is unique in a business filled with sameness...

Fergus Interviewed on Leigh Bowery Site
BUY Fergus Greer's Leigh Bowery Book

Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares

Forget reality-tv on US Networks, and tune to BBC America for Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares... This unusual show features British Celebrity Chef Gordon Ramsay, as he visits a series of flailing restaurants across the UK. Great Britain is known by some to have the worst food in the world, and Ramsay seeks it out, each and every week. After reading each chef the riot-act, Ramsay proceeds to make-over each restaurant. New menus, new decor, and in some cases new chefs. In some ways, Ramsay is the Ozzy Osborne of haute-cuisine. A former professional soccer player, Ramsay barks his way through f#@cking entrees and f@#cked-up appetizers... He is a unique man, and this is a unique show, replete with crazy situations culled from real life... If you like food, and a comedy of manners, this is certainly one to watch...


VISIT Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares
VISIT Ramsay's Restaurants

An 'Out Of Reach' fan...

Not all the reviews for my Steven Seagal screenplay 'Out Of Reach' were entirely complimentary. But this evening I recieved a very kind email from a fan...

His email read:

My name's Marco Freitas and I'm writing from Porto Alegre, in the very south of Brazil.

Just thought it would be a cool idea to say hi to u and commend you on an excellent job writing OUT OF REACH (i've seen it twice).

Um abraço (Portuguese for A BIG HUG)...MARCO

Thanks for your support Marco. It is very appreciated, and a big hug back...

VISIT Marco's Site

 

Remembering London back in the day...

The process of turning Trip City into a screenplay has made me revisit a great deal about London, and the places I used to go (in my head at least). It's very much made me focus on the nightclub culture that I left behind, almost twelve years ago. I still keep in touch with a few of my old crew, especially Sean McLusky and Michael Holden... Sad to say, a lot of the old venues have been closed down. I even heard that the WAG CLUB on Wardour Street had been converted into a Bhangra Disco.

All that being said, for anyone who remembers, the likes of Love Ranch (at Maximus, on Leciester Square) and Merry England (at the Cafe De Paris) were indeed landmark events in British Club Culture. We would see everyone on the opening nights: Shane McGowan (from The Pogues), Mick Jones (from the Clash), Paul Rutherford (from Frankie Goes To Hollywood), and even Bjork (who came to the opening night of Merry England)....

That night I was 'doing the door' with Reece Sandell. Reece was in a sharp suit, but me and Sean were in full Cavalier Drag, to fit in with the Merry England theme. Our costumes were rented from 'Angels.' Mine had allegedly been worn by Oliver Reed, in the late '70's production of The Three Musketeers. It was a terrific night. One I will always remember, not least for an atmosphere fuelled on endless supplies of Special-K and the like.

The picture above is me in the lobby with Bjork. Margie always has a chuckle about this picture. So do I. My facial hair was at its' most esoteric peak at that point...

Anyway, you should support Sean McLusky's record label '1234 Records.' To some he is a great pioneer in the business of music and nightclubs... Well, he always was to me, at least...

VISIT 1234 Records
VISIT Sean McLusky's Sonic Mook Experimet

Trip City... The screenplay... Finally hitting my stride...

Adapting a book into a screenplay is hard. I only found this out when I started to adapt Trip City. The task seems to be compounded by the fact that I wrote the book fifteen years ago. And it's a London novel, and I haven't actually been back to London for ten years. But tonight something happened. I would use the word magical, but magical sounds too meta-physical. What happened was simple really. I could actually see this as a finished screenplay. A good screenplay. That excited me, and I don't get excited so easily. It was as if the prose and dialogue actually became poignant, and had meaning to me again.

It's my goal to finish the screenplay by a week on Wednesday. The 26th. If you read some subsequent posts you might even find out why 1/26/05 is an important date for me. Anyhow, tonight, somehow I regained my faith in my own ability. I don't mean to sound arrogant. But right now I don't care even if I do... If you can remember why you write, if you remember that thrill, things fall into place. It happened to me. It can happen to you. And believe me, if you keep writing, despite all the bullshit, and all the distractions, it will happen to you. Perseverance is the answer. It is the only answer. So hold tight, and persevere. Writing can be magical. It is for me tonight. I'm finally back in my stride. It's a good place to be.

Roll on 2005. Roll on Trip City. Right now I'm unstoppable!!!

BUY Trip City The Novel

Remembering Eddie Little...

I first met Eddie Little in 1997. I'd just got a new fax machine, and Jerry Stahl passed on my number to Eddie. After a short phone call, I recieved a 10 page fax. The first ten pages of 'Another Day In Paradise,' in manuscript form. It was early days, still I published those ten pages in a magazine called 'Men's Perspective.' After that me and Eddie became firm friends. He was easy to like. He was the real thing - a gentlemanly villain straight from the pages of an old Mickey Spillane novella.

Last night, Margie drove me down Beverly, and we passed the Bevonshire Motel. Eddie had stayed there. I think he stayed there close to the end. It's no great mystery why we fell-out. And for those who know the story, it's obvious why anyone would part ways, even with a friend, in that sort of situation. Still, I'm sorry that we lost touch.

I hadn't spoke to Eddie in several years...

Me and Margie were in Skylight Books, and she spotted a copy of 'Steel Toes' (his second novel). I was mentioned in the flyleaf, on the thanks page... It reads "Trevor Miller - M.I.A." After some prodding from Marge, I decided I should probably get in contact with Ed. A week or two passed. I was in the parking lot of Franchise Pictures with Tracee Stanley (en route to a meeting). That was when my cell-phone rang. Dave Basulto was on the other end...

"Have you seen the LA Times today?" He asked.

Eddie's obituary was in the Newspaper that morning.

I planned on going to the Memorial Service, but I didn't. I guess there would've been too many other guys there that I didn't want to see. All that aside. There are still many places I pass, and think of Eddie. Places like the Bevonshire, especially the likes of Victor's Diner, near Beachwood Canyon....

I remember sitting in the parking lot of Victor's, and Eddie asked "what should I call my book?" We would often joke about L.A., and being broke. He'd always say; "Ah well... Another Day in Paradise..." That's where the name of the book came from. In retrospect, they were good times. Some fun. Some desperate. But life was always full of surprises when you were with Eddie...

I guess I just miss my friend.

Welcome to my new Journal...

I'm new to blogspot, so I'm just getting the hang of this...

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