The place in Salt Lake City to see bands at the time was the Roxy, which was located

somewhere beneath the vaults of Sam Weller's Bookstore on Main Street.

You had to go around back and creep about the construction site of what is now American

Towers.

The club no longer exists, so don't bother looking. The great thing about the Roxy

was that if you came by the back door, they would let you in no matter how old you were.

My friend Steve, who now does sound at CBGB's, always watch the back door and let us teenagers

in. You have to remember at that time, there were perhaps 20 people in the entire valley

wearing leather and getting their hair dyed.

However, every night we were at the Roxy when the bands were playing, and every night took punches from rednecks for making it happen.

At that time, you recognized each other and stuck together, but you couldn't afford to be cut off.

But I'm not writing to glorify the past.

I'm only telling the history.

J.D. Slaughter, Slug Magazine,

that's Salt Lake Underground Magazine,

December 1, 1988.

WonderDeva! Wonder Thiel! Hi, this is Dick Miller.

If you're listening to Junk food cinema, who were these guys?

Spent my whole life in a city where junk is king and the air smells shitty. Junk is absolutely king here at junk food cinema.

Brought to you by slc.edu.edu.

Dot you're pretty fucking weird, man. This is, of course, the weekly cult and exploitation film cast so good. It just has to be fattening. I'm your host Brian Salsbrane. I'm joined as per usual by my friend and colleague. He is a novelist. He is a screenwriter, a lieutenant of megaforce. It is Mr. SLC Robert Cargill.

Hi.

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