Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (14 page)

Born in Lillooet, British Columbia on July 17th, 1965, Mike and his family moved to East Vancouver when the boy was very young. This made him the youngest DayGlo, and even Wayne Gretzky was six months older. Mike, who essentially grew up on a skateboard, became a member of the Jaks Skate Team when he was nineteen years old, and his younger brother TA (RIP), joined the team shortly afterwards. The Jaks, who are to skateboards what the Hells Angels are to motorcycles, refer to themselves as a “drinking team with a skating problem.” They also hold skate contests in both Canada and the USA, encouraging kids to get off the couch and onto a skateboard. Mike knows that the sofa is safer, but a skateboard is much more fun.

Mike, like Spud, was raised to the sounds of such country greats as Hank Williams, WayIon Jennings, and Johnny Cash. “The first music I remember hearing was
Hank William’s Greatest Hits.
My mom had the eight-track in her car,” the guitarist recalls. Sitting on the couch across from me, Mike looks healthy and well-fed, a switch from the DayGlo years. The guitarist tells me that a boarder at his mom’s house named Gordon Dick showed him how to play “Sunshine Of Your Love” by Cream when he was in kindergarten. Mike’s hands were too small to form chords, but he delighted his classmates by playing the song on the high “E” string. However, the captive audience wasn’t quite as happy when Mike continued to perform the song over and over again. They say practice makes perfect, and the boy took that suggestion to heart.

The Lehmens are status Aboriginals but Mike says that he didn’t encounter a significant amount of racism from within the predominantly white punk scene. He didn’t care much about race himself, since the skate scene in general was ethnically diverse. “I grew up in a multi-cultural neighbourhood. There were Asians, Latinos, Europeans, and East Indians on my block. I didn’t feel that I was any different from anyone else. We were all the same, especially on skateboards,” claims the guitarist. In the punk scene, Mike felt that he was judged more for his guitar-playing abilities than he was for the colour of his skin. This is not to say that he didn’t encounter the occasional racist dirtbag, but he didn’t let such things get under his, ahem, skin. “That shit just rolls off me most of the time,” says Mike. East Van could be a bit wild, especially back in those days, but it helped that Mike could handle himself in a brawl. He was not the type to go running home in tears.

At any rate, the youth continued to learn and, like Cretin did, he started with songs by Creedence Clearwater Revival, among others. As a teenager, Mike gravitated towards punk rock, partly because the fast music lent itself so well to skateboarding. The Vancouver Jaks Team, and their colleagues along the West Coast, adopted punk rock long before it became accepted by the mainstream. Like Cretin, Mike also nurtured a taste for metal, especially Ozzy Osbourne and Randy Rhoads. Though Mike saw groups such as DOA, the Pointed Sticks, the Modernettes, and the Subhumans as a kid, his personal guitar style took on a metal-influenced edge. After all, hardcore was starting to fade away, and many of the old punk bands had adopted metal stylings or had crossed over completely. Although Mike was more comfortable with punk nihilism than he was with heavy metal posturing, the guitarist didn’t feel that he had to pick one or the other, In general, he intended to do his own thing, and to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.

Prior to joining the DayGlo Abortions, Mike and fellow Jak Team member Carlos Longo were in the band Kill City with ex-Black Flag singer Ron Reyes on guitar and Steve LaViolette as vocalist. “Ron just called me out of the blue one night, and I was blown away,” recalls Mike. Ron doesn’t remember who told him about Mike, but he certainly remembers his ex-bandmate’s skills as a guitarist. “One day, Mike and Carlos showed up at my loft space on Hastings Street. Mike sounded like Randy Rhoads when he plugged in his guitar, so I thought he was great,” remembers Ron Reyes, who many regard as Black Flag’s best vocalist. No offence, Henry.

Kill City played several shows, including one in Seattle, Washington with Ten Minute Warning, and another at The Waterfront in Vancouver. In fact, Kill City, named after an Iggy and the Stooges album, actually did a show with the DayGlo Abortions in Victoria, which may have been the first time Mike met the band. Mike recalls that Cretin lent him his guitar when he broke a string. “Murray’s guitar had strings so thick I thought they were bass strings, and they were about half an inch from the neck. I was amazed that anyone could play an instrument like that, especially the way he did,” Mike recalls.

Kill City was coming along, but there were no firm plans to release a record or tour, and Mike was restless. At twenty years of age, the young man was ready to go somewhere, anywhere. Consequently, Mike and Carlos quit Kill City and formed a metal project together. Left to their own devices the pair did little except get high and cause trouble. Not that Mike and Carlos didn’t like the music they were making, but without a serious commitment the band was unlikely to go anywhere. When it wasn’t raining, Mike and Carlos could be found at the China Creek Skate Park with their Jak teammates. If it was raining, and it often was, Mike would watch soap operas with Alice. The young man lacked direction.

Alice had not given up on her boy. She thought that with a little push he might join an established group. “Mom didn’t want me loafing around on the couch all day,” Mike explains. It was at this time that the determined woman booked Mike’s auditions with the DayGlo Abortions and took him to Long & McQuade to rent a Marshall stack. Alice even made sure that her son left the house on time so he wouldn’t be late. “My mom had a lot to do with me joining the DayGlos,” Mike confesses. “I love telling that story because she’s so rad.” Unfortunately, Alice doesn’t remember why she arranged for multiple tryouts. Perhaps she thought Mike could try again if he failed the first audition. Maybe he could try three times?

Mike immediately clicked with the other members, and Wayne Gretzky was happy to have him in the group. Though Wayne was a much better musician than he gave himself credit for, he did not possess enough confidence to be the sole guitarist. Perhaps the band would sound half-decent with two guitars, even without Cretin. Wayne could see that the new guy was catching on fast. Maybe this would work after all.

With Mike onboard, the DayGlo Abortions settled into the semi-abandoned warehouse to practice for a tour, which they had yet to book. Since winter had not fully surrendered to spring, the practice pad was so cold that the musicians ingested large quantities of niacin to improve the circulation of blood to their fingers. Niacin, which is sometimes prescribed to patients with heart conditions, enlarges blood vessels, theoretically “warming” the subject. However, niacin also produces a host of side effects that can include skin flushing and itching, dry skin, rashes, and gastrointestinal complaints such as dyspepsia. Even more importantly, doses of niacin above two grams a day have been reported to cause serious liver damage. Despite the inherent risk, Spud reports that the drug made it possible for the band to play their instruments in frigid conditions. So what if the niacin taxed their poor livers even further? DayGlo Abortions did not bother themselves with such trivial concerns.

Musically speaking, Mike was a perfect fit. His metal-influenced approach to guitar meshed with Spud and Bonehead’s punk attack in much the same way Cretin’s style did, even if Spud and Bonehead weren’t quite sure what to make of Mike personally. Dosed with niacin, the musicians hammered away at the set list, finding both strengths and weaknesses. Spud took to his new role as frontman fairly easily, and claims that stage fright has never been a problem. “I guess I’m just a natural born ham,” the bassist/singer hypothesizes. Still, Spud did not take over as vocalist because he wanted to be the top dog, but simply because no one else was available. Cretin was welcome to return whenever he desired. No one knew that Spud’s tenure would last many years.

The DayGlo Abortions progressed rapidly with each practice. The super-charged sound that blasted from the warehouse was intense, and the furious guitars were a wall of noise on which to hang the unrelenting drumbeat and savage vocals. Punks upstairs braved the cold warehouse just to watch them play. Any fool could see that this band was going to be a contender—with or without “The Cretin” Murray Acton. Suddenly, the future looked bright again.

Rehearsal aside, Spud was happy enough to quit couch surfing and move in with friends Mike Robinson and Eric Lowe. Although the rundown house was situated next to a smelly chicken rendering plant on East Cordova Street in Vancouver’s awesome Downtown Eastside, Spud had his own room and the rent was cheap. The DayGlos would soon leave on tour, but Spud found it nice to have a space of his own, even if only for a little while. Every man needs his privacy.

Spring arrived, and the sun began to shine—or at least once in a while. To further boost the band’s spirits,
Feed Us a Fetus
was finally released and the DayGlos held a record release party at Luxury Bob’s. The show was Mike’s first with the band, and he remembers suffering from a severe case of stage fright. The stage at the dumpy venue was anything but luxurious and Mike’s foot went through a hole in the rough plywood decking. When the guitarist finally freed himself from the yawning abyss, he fled behind a speaker column to regain his courage. After a long pause, he found it within himself to rejoin his new bandmates. Somehow, Mike got through the night, but there would be other tense moments down the road. “I would have died on that tour without plenty of Pepto Bismol tablets,” laughs the guitarist, who was unaware that Wayne Gretzky also relied heavily on Pepto-Bismol for survival. Mike Anus, The Cretin, and Wayne Gretzky were alike when it came to stage fright—not Spud, the big show-off.

Stomach problems aside, and with the new album in their hot little hands, the band began making serious plans to tour. After all, they were proud of this record, which actually had real lettering along the spine. Anyone who owns
Out of the Womb
might have noticed that the graphic designer overlooked that little detail, not that this diminishes the record in any way. The album, with its gaudy fluorescent cover and gratuitous nudity, is a flawed yet magnificent piece of work.

Fringe Product, who were unwilling to provide such things, did not assist the band with bookings or accommodations, leaving the DayGlos to fend for themselves. Luckily, DOA manager Ken Lester finally started booking dates for the band in and around Vancouver, but engagements were scarce. There simply weren’t many punk-friendly clubs between Vancouver and Toronto in those days. Ken’s girlfriend Kris Carlsen had recently moved to Ontario and, although the couple had recently broken up, Kris began to arrange gigs for the band in southern Ontario. The DayGlos continued to practice, becoming tighter as a unit daily.

The desire to leave town increased with each passing moment. Eventually, between Ken Lester and his ex-girlfriend, the gigs began to accumulate—even if they were many hundreds of miles apart. Despite the numerous problems, the band could hardly wait to hit the road. But was the world ready for them?

With
Feed Us a Fetus
available in record stores across North America, the DayGlo Abortions prepared to hit the road. They said goodbye to the women, loaded up on grass, and racked up hefty tabs at local bars. Like sailors heading out to sea, the band did not know exactly how long they would be gone or when they would be back. In fact, the DayGlo Abortions weren’t even 100% certain that they
would
be back. As always, much depended on the roll of the dice. The boys just hoped they wouldn’t come up snake eyes.

There was one small detail the band had overlooked. Other than a bicycle or two, they didn’t have any sort of transportation. Fortunately, Rancid Randy, whose parents had given him a portion of the million dollars they had won in a lottery, dug out his wallet and “lent” the group the necessary funds to buy a full-size school bus. Robin Sharpe, a carpenter by trade, volunteered to help convert the old beast into a touring vehicle. Not only did he and Spud plan to remove the seats and build bunk beds, but they also wanted to paint the interior. Naturally, the bandmembers all swore they would help, but were nowhere to be found when the time came. “We didn’t wear tool belts,” laughs Mike Anus. Real musicians had better things to do.

The boys studied the vehicle at length, trying to choose a suitable name for it. Reading the words “Logos Bible College” printed in big black letters along her side, the musicians felt that some sort of biblical reference was called for. The DayGlos came up with several suggestions, but when one of them blurted “Jezebel,” her fate was sealed. Spud felt that the name was too derogatory, however, and decided to call the bus “Myrtle” instead. The other members went along with the name, but whenever the vehicle broke down—which was often—they referred to her as Jezebel. Thusly, the bus had two names: Myrtle when she was good, and Jezebel when she was bad. No wonder the poor girl developed a complex.

Then there was the matter of Myrtle’s appearance. Rather than paint over the lettering, the band elected to leave her the way she was. “We figured that maybe the name would keep the heat off,” recalls Spud. Unless, of course, the police decided that the scruffy passengers had killed the rightful owners and stolen the bus. The DayGlo Abortions did not appear to be associated with any sort of college, bible or otherwise.

With the name chosen, Spud, who was also known as “MacGyver” for his ability to fix almost anything, strapped on his tool belt and built a bedroom for himself in the back. The other bandmembers had to settle for bunk beds. “Sometimes I rented my room out to ‘em if they got lucky,” grins the handy bassist. Nowadays, the ex-DayGlo works in building maintenance and is responsible for the upkeep of several retirement homes. Like most musicians, Spud works hard at a job that he doesn’t necessarily love. This is the reality of rock n’ roll.