Rick Rude

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Out of speakers came noise and out of noise came RICK RUDE. A four-membered creature whose tattered robe, four-string guitar, and sand-filled shoes are surrounded by a haze of sweet smoke and empty beer cans, thrashes about with a charismatic enthusiasm matched only by its lethargic demeanor, speaking fluently in the cryptic languages of dreams, love, and ennui. It inhabits a dark cave on the mountainside of truth, carefully furnished with dismantled electronics, books on meditation, and warped records of Guided By Voices, Built to Spill, and Cheap Trick. A nocturnal creature, Rick Rude feasts on mystical fungi, boredom, mushy guitar riffs, and the delicacy of the human soul.