volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

ROY LOVES HIS MUSIC.
It is the sustainer of his soul.
Not that he would ever put it that way.
One of the great things about living in Seattle is just this: the
music. How much of it there is. The variety. Not that Roy’s
into variety. Not that he frequents Clubs to listen to live music.
That costs money. And then there’s the drunks and the cigarette
smoke. And the people. Seattle people.
The Birkis-and-socks crowd.
Mostly, when Roy listens to music—which comprises most
of his day between waking up and going to bed, and oftentimes
extends into his sleep—what Roy listens to is eighties Punk.
Among his favorites are: the Sex Pistols, the Smiths, the Pixies,
Dinosaur, Jr., and Camper van Beethoven. But he also loves
the Pogues and the Ramones and the Clash. He isn’t into early
seventies shit, like Glam—except for the glamtrash Canuck
group, Forgotten Rebels, who are what Glam should have been,
as far as he’s concerned—and maybe a bit of Roxie, and still a
little Bowie now and then, and he loves Suzie Quatro and really,
really early Alice and, every now and then, for nostalgia’s sake,
some Mott the Hoople. He also digs some of the more obscure
Brit groups, like the Adicts and the Blitz, the Adverts and the
Exploited, Chron Gen (easily as good as the Buzzcocks), Infa
Riot, and the great and fab 999 led by Nick Cash; also, the Toy
Dolls, Stiff Little Fingers and Generation X. He even likes some
French skunk like Camera Silens and early Oi!, Komintern Sect,
La Souris Delinguee and the Trotskids.
What Roy hates is what his Brother the Asshole listens to.
Rick likes greasy, slicked-back pukeabilly crap like Dick Dale,
or the Reverend Horton Heat. Not to mention he still listens to
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY