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Showing posts from February, 2011

BOOK NEWS: Frank's Wild Years - A Caffeine Nights Publication

Deptford Station, circa 1968

'I'm a dog,' he said. 'A mangy old mutt. I do what mutts do. I do what they tell me, then come back with my tongue hanging out for more. I'm a fucking mutt.'

It's been a long time coming, but Frank's Wild Years has a home with crime/noir publisher Caffeine Nights. I'm looking forward to getting 'Frank' out in the world and making some noise this autumn, but in the mean time, here's an extract from the Caffeine Nights newsletter, published yesterday. I'll keep you posted.
Cheers Nick
"Caffeine Nights is delighted to announce the signing of Nick Triplow for the publication of his fabulous edgy thriller, 'Frank’s Wild Years'. The book, set in London and Humberside, gives a nod to the Ted Lewis novel 'Jack’s Return Home' which was subsequently re-titled when made into one of the best modern crime films of our generation, starring Michael Caine in the eponymous 'Get Carter'.
Nick’s book…


Creative Writing and the art of 'Show, don't tell'
Bob Hoskins in The Long Good Friday, know what I mean, son.
In the middle of what can only be described as a chaotic script workshop a couple of weeks ago - by turns wildly enthusiastic and blankly confused, we came up against what seems to be the single greatest revelation for an audience new to script-writing: it’s not all about the dialogue. I’d stood back as impossible ideas flew round the room. No, we weren’t re-making The Matrix, as for re-creating Mock The Week, feasible, but hacking out tired and bitchy clichés to order probably wasn’t going to be that rewarding either. Or achieve the end result the group wanted. This lot were buzzing with the possibility that their experiences could be communicated to a wider audience. But it couldn't be all about the words. Struggling to think of a rock-solid example to make the point for the next session, I settled on one of the greatest wordless denouements in film history. If …

You’d better stop dreaming of the quiet Life

On the 9th February 1982, The Jam’s Town Called Malice entered the UK charts at No.1. Some songs claim their place in your own personal folklore the moment you hear them. Town Called Malice is one of those, a permanent fixture on my imaginary desert island, one of a stash of tunes that provide an instant shortcut to a precious moment in time and place. For Weller, the song was a personal evocation of growing up in Woking. But its sentiments rang as true for a bunch of teenage mods in Orpington as it doubtless did for countless kids just like us in towns just like ours. It’s not hard to see why. Town Called Malice kicks in like a full-on Motown manifesto, a lift from the Supremes’ You Can’t Hurry Love for a bass groove and then a call to ‘stop dreaming of a quiet life’, ‘quit running for that runaway bus’ and ‘stop apologising for things you’ve never done’. Town Called Malice had that sepia-tint from the word go, the single sleeve’s backyard terraces found a space in pop music history w…

Roy Budd & the Get Carter Theme

On the trail of great Brit-movie tunes, here's Roy Budd playing the iconic Carter theme - to give it its proper title Main Theme (Carter Takes A Train) - live along to the opening credits of Mike Hodges' 1971 Get Carter. Much covered - Human League, Stereolab to name but two, the theme slips into the movie at key moments; those haunting, ringing harpsichord notes do much to set the tone for what follows. And how many times has that bassline found its way into subsequent slices of ersatz funk?
'Say goodbye Eric...'