Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (20 page)

The recording itself took less than two weeks and even less time to mix. As usual, the DayGlos were solid pros in the studio, working hard and avoiding excessive drug and alcohol usage. This did not include marijuana, naturally, and the studio was full of pot smoke at all times. The bandmembers felt that weed was essential to the creative process, and it seemed to work for them. Luckily, they were not into heroin.

Worried that the lyrics weren’t offensive enough on their own, the DayGlos struggled to come up with a cover that people would instantly notice. To this end, Spud hatched a concept that would succeed beyond all expectations. He took photographs to demonstrate what he had in mind and mailed them to Fringe Product. The record label liked Spud’s idea, but used their own artists to produce a high-quality version of the concept. The front cover, which depicts a cute little hamster nibbling at a box of chocolates, wouldn’t be disturbing at all if it weren’t for the anonymous hand pointing a big black gun at the unsuspecting rodent from outside the frame. The back cover, predictably, shows the aftermath of the gunshot in all its bloody glory. Although it seems unlikely that anyone would have raised much of fuss had the DayGlos used a rat instead of a hamster, little Hammy would prove to be their undoing. Even in their wildest dreams, the DayGlos could not possibly have imagined the media feeding frenzy that would soon follow.

With spring fast approaching, the DayGlo Abortions made hasty plans to tour. The band intended to spend as much time on the road as possible, and any thoughts of leading normal lives had been totally abandoned. Even Spud would rather be touring than sitting at home watching television, which was saying something. Excitement was out there on the road.

Before they left, Rancid Randy and Bonehead decided that Jezebel needed a major overhaul. Though her engine had been replaced not long ago, the two felt that it was better to start the tour with a new engine and rear end, just to decrease the odds of breakdowns on the road. Spud didn’t think the swap was necessary but didn’t argue very loudly. What if the old engine died somewhere in the boondocks at four in the morning? Then it would be his fault that he hadn’t allowed Bonehead and Randy to make the switch. No, it was best just to let them do what they wanted and keep his mouth shut. As it turned out, the new engine would prove to have issues of its own.

When
Here Today, Guano Tomorrow
hit the stores in the spring of 1987, the reaction was swift and furious. The cover art alone was enough to make music critics gasp in horror, and the lyric sheet had them shaking their heads in disbelief. Needless to say, the average DayGlo fan was delighted. Indeed, this was a record to shock the hell out of parents and offend nearly everyone. The boys had truly outdone themselves this time.

There was no time like the present and, when all was in order, the DayGlo Abortions set off on their second major tour. Since the band’s reputation had grown considerably, the money would be a little better and the boys would not have to rely as heavily on bologna and white bread. In fact, everyone seemed to be talking about the potty-mouthed ruffians from Victoria, and not everything they were saying was bad. Some people actually claimed to
like
the DayGlo Abortions. Even more importantly, fans were buying the LP, which continued to receive rave reviews from the well-informed and scathing attacks from the usual naysayers. Back home in Victoria, Cretin read those reviews and tried not to take the bad ones personally. Why couldn’t the fools understand what he was trying to do? Would it kill them to lighten up a bit?

The boys drove across the prairies to Edmonton. Unlike most of the current hardcore bands of the time, SNFU had not broken up and the show that night was as wild as can be imagined. Those rednecks really knew how to put away the booze, and it was with aching heads that the band rolled out the next day. On they drove, to Calgary and Regina, for more beer and madness. Four days out of town and already their livers hurt. More than usual that is.

In Winnipeg, the boys settled in for a two-day engagement at Wellington’s. Scary Mary asked where Bear was, but seemed to accept that Ferris and his big dog couldn’t make the trip this time. The crowd at Wellington’s was very appreciative and gave the band a much-needed beer shower. Only a week out of Victoria and they were a bit on the ripe side. Smell didn’t keep a local girl away from Bonehead at the party on Fort Street later. Promoter Mike Lambert recalls walking into the washroom and catching the pair in the act. “I had to kick Bonehead out for fucking a groupie on the bathroom sink.” Mike later wondered if perhaps he should have granted the drummer some leniency. Bonehead was a touring musician, after all, and so what if he needed a little romance on the road? Touring could be so very lonely.

The boys returned to the West Coast, but instead of going home they took a trip to San Francisco for a show at The Farm with Seven Seconds and DI on August 28th 1987. They finally got back to Victoria, only to accept an invitation to support the heavy metal Voivod in Montreal. Cretin took some (paid) time off work, and the band flew out for the show on September 6th. Sitting aboard the airplane, the musicians could not help but wonder at the disparity of their lives. One minute, they were semi-employed bums on welfare, and the next they were jetting off to the other side of the country to perform for hordes of eager fans. Such extremes were difficult to grasp, and the DayGlos struggled to adapt to the duality of it all. For now, ordering up drinks on the airplane, life was good. The boys knew enough to enjoy themselves when they could, for when they returned home they would be cashing in empty beer bottles for Kraft Dinner again. Here today, no food tomorrow.

Landing in Montreal, the band hired a van and drove to a music store to rent equipment. Other than their guitars, the bandmembers had no gear, which was too expensive to ship. The show with Voivod and SNFU that night went very well, even though the majority of the kids were there to see the headlining act. Despite the fact that this was a metal show, the DayGlo Abortions earned new fans with their caustic blend of punk and metal. Backstage, the three groups got along famously and consumed a great many beers. The DayGlos, who were longtime fans of Voivod’s music, were happy to learn that the bandmembers were not a bunch of snobby rock stars. The problem with meeting bands they liked, Spud acknowledges, was that so many of them turned out to be total jerkoffs. He vowed never to be like that.

All three bands partied until the sun came up. Mike Anus and Bonehead made the unfortunate mistake of passing out with their shoes on. Wasting no time, the boys snatched up felt pens and moved in for the kill. “We got them both, really good,” remembers Spud. “They looked fantastic.” The artists woke their victims up several hours later for the trip to Toronto, rushing them out the door before they had a chance to glance in a mirror. At the train station, they somehow fooled Mike into thinking that only Bonehead had been tagged, and they told Bonehead that only Mike had been tagged. Both believed they were unmarked. “They were snickering at each other,” recounts Spud, who claims he has never been successfully targeted. Cretin disagrees, recalling an incident where the boys covered Spud with black marker while he was passed out cold on a white leather couch. “He smeared the marker all over the place, and then the dude’s mom came home and freaked out,” laughs Cretin. “We had to split in a hurry. What a mess!”

The DayGlo Abortions took a train to Toronto, where the owner of Barrymore’s rented them a van for a series of engagements in southern Ontario. Afloat on a sea of booze, the band veered from one gig to another, inflicting much damage to the vehicle in the process. Thor, the BFG associate mentioned earlier, broke a side window to rescue his dog, which the boys had accidentally locked inside. “Thor asked if it was okay, and then he drew back his fist and punched out the window,” laughs Cretin. Later, the band tore the interior to pieces looking for a stash of cocaine that had allegedly been hidden there. Mike also started a small fire, and the roof of the brand-new van was somehow flattened.

The DayGlos played a few more shows in the Toronto area, pleasing fans and annoying enemies. After abusing the poor van further and breaking all the windows, they dropped it off at the airport in Toronto. “I’d say we returned the vehicle in somewhat less-than-mint condition,” quips an unrepentant Spud. The owner of Barrymore’s was furious and hassled the band for months, but squeezing money out of the DayGlos was like trying to extract honey from a lemon. He eventually gave up in frustration.

Cretin was back at work when the DayGlos took another run to California for a show at The Farm with the Mentors and Dr. Know on October 30th. This sort of hit-and-run touring had become second nature to the band and they didn’t bother to calculate how much they would spend in comparison to how much they would earn. Like bandits on the run, they would travel hundreds of miles for a show or two, only to return home with empty pockets and blazing hangovers. DayGlo life was not easy on the body or soul.

The boys played a gig in Kelowna on December 19th, went home for Christmas, and then hit the road for a jaunt to Winnipeg with Spikey Norman from Victoria. Stopping in all the usual places, the two bands kept themselves from freezing solid by adding plenty of alcohol to their blood. The DayGlos made it home alive, swearing never to tour Canada in the winter again. This was a promise they would not and could not keep.

Then suddenly it was 1988. Where had all the time gone? The boys partied in Victoria for a few months, but as soon as the rain let up they took off again. The cheering fans and free beer was a lure the boys couldn’t resist. Nothing—not jobs nor girlfriends—really seemed to matter. Especially not jobs.

The DayGlo Abortions, busy drinking, fighting, and fucking on what they called The Whirling Dervish Tour, were blissfully unaware that on June 18th, 1988, the police had executed a search warrant on the warehouse of Fringe Product Inc. Apparently, the daughter of a Nepean, Ontario cop named Jim Fitzgibbons asked her father to record borrowed copies of
Feed Us a Fetus
and
Here Today, Guano Tomorrow,
instigating the biggest stink to arise from the priggish municipality of Nepean in at least fifty years. Understandably, the fine and decent officer was outraged by the artwork on the records he was asked to illegally copy. When Fitzgibbons read the lyric sheets, his head exploded. The cop showed the albums to his superiors, who wholeheartedly agreed that they were the most disgusting and offensive things they had ever seen, and not even remotely funny. The City of Nepean, which was dependent on the federal government for employment, was not known as the sort of place to be frequented (or often visited) by free thinkers or libertines. It is now part of Ottawa.

The DayGlos eventually reached Toronto, where, as usual, they did a number of shows with the BFG. Though Mike isn’t sure, he thinks that it was here that he first learned of the legal action against Fringe Product. “Jesus Bonehead told me about it, and he seemed a bit shocked,” recalls Mike. Personally, the guitarist wasn’t overly worried, and he couldn’t see how it was going to be his problem one way or another. “I figured this was Cretin’s thing, and that he’d have to deal with it,” Mike remembers. What he didn’t know was that Fringe would withhold royalties, not just from the new album but from
Feed Us a Fetus
as well. According to Spud, Fringe Product deducted $90,000 from the DayGlos’ royalties, and they never even got a chance to kiss that money goodbye. Had Mike known the true ramifications of the case, he might have been a little more upset.

A month later, on July 18th, the police returned to the warehouse rented by Fringe Product and seized thousands of copies of
Feed Us a Fetus
and
Here Today, Guano Tomorrow.
The cops also grabbed paperwork, including invoices, bank statements, and everything else related to the two albums. The DayGlos were well aware of what was happening now, but were powerless to do anything but continue the tour—without merch. Obviously, the legal problems were just beginning.

Cretin, wary now of the cloud hanging over the band, took some time off work and flew out with Ferris Jak for a few gigs in southern Ontario. Because of his top security clearance, Cretin had been assigned a plum parking spot near the main building at work. Since he didn’t own a vehicle, the musician/techni-cian shrewdly gave his space to the chief administrative secretary, a move that turned out to be very beneficial. Not only did Defence Research Establishment Pacific allow Mr. Acton to take periodic leaves of absence, but the secretary to whom he had given his parking spot made sure that he would be paid for that time. Essentially, Cretin was collecting double pay whenever he did a show out of town. It was a sweet arrangement.

For these dates there was a wee problem. When the band picked up Cretin and Ferris at the airport, they were surprised (but not too surprised) to see that the singer had a cast on his left arm. It turned out that Cretin had broken his arm in the final playoff game of his hockey league. The frontman has en-dured a great many broken bones over the years, and is more familiar with casts than he would like to be. If Cretin wasn’t falling off his bike, then he was busy finding other ways to break his bones. Whether it’s because the singer is accident-prone or extremely unlucky, the results are the same.

Anyway, the DayGlos arrived for a show at Carleton University in Ottawa, with Cretin unable to play guitar because of the cast. Without his instrument, the singer felt naked and struggled to overcome his nervousness. “I’ve never been much of a dancer, except for the funky chicken, and I try not to do that too often,” jokes the singer. Mid-song, Cretin jumped off the drum riser just as Mike Anus made a thrusting, pitchfork motion with his axe. “Mike was coming up as I was going down, and he stuffed the headstock of his guitar right into my face,” recalls Cretin, wincing. The pointy headstock ripped into the singer’s lip and tore his nose half off his face. “My nose was flapping back and forth as I was singing,” recounts Cretin as the memory comes flooding back. Mike also remembers the incident: “I felt a weird shock wave travel down the neck of my guitar, and that’s when I realized I’d hit Murray in the beak. It was nasty.” Bleeding profusely, Cretin somehow managed to finish the song before running backstage, where he packed the gaping wound with cocaine. Then, using duct tape to hold his numb face together, he ran back onstage to finish the gig. The fans were not to be denied.