Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (19 page)

The band pushed on to CBGB in New York City for a final show with Raw Power. Also appearing on the bill was Gang Green, so the reader knows without question that much liver damage was involved. Despite the constant abuse, the DayGlo Abortions were at the top of their game. All those shows were paying off in terms of tightness and timing. The boys hoisted a few beers with Raw Power after the show, and the party went on into the wee hours. By now, the DayGlos were on fairly good terms with the band, even if they still liked the first version, (and the singer’s wife) better.

The bus seemed empty without the loud Italian voices. There were more shows along the East Coast of the USA and into Canada, but by now the boys were starting to feel the strain of constant touring. With smelly feet and rancid clothing they lived like wild animals, eating and bathing irregularly at best. There were no sumptuous deli trays backstage, though they occasionally raided unwitting promoters’ fridges for leftover fried chicken or old potato salad.

Some venues provided a room that was never large enough to hold the band plus entourage. To keep things fair, half the group slept in Myrtle one night, and then traded places with those in the hotel room the next. Often, there was little sleeping going on, either in the hotel or on the bus. Spud’s room aboard Myrtle was generally occupied with a lucky DayGlo and whatever female he’d managed to find, often by Spud himself. The rangy blonde frontman didn’t have many problems locating willing partners, even if some of them weren’t exactly Playmates. The road was no place to be fussy.

The boys eventually reached Toronto for a gig with the Bunchofuckinggoofs. Spud and Bonehead kept an eye on Mike Anus to see if he planned to jump ship again. Fortunately, the lead guitarist seemed content to stick around for now. After all, the DayGlo Abortions had achieved the sort of notoriety that the BFG could only dream about. Singer Steve Goof would have to murder someone to get as much press, which wouldn’t have been completely out of character. Indeed, the war between the BFG and local gluebag Nazi skinheads showed no signs of abating. Given the level of violence, it was amazing that no one had been killed yet.

Luck was with the DayGlos and no one died on this occasion. They left town the next day with not only the receipts from the show, but with their lead guitarist as well. On the band went, to Winnipeg for a gig at a second-floor sweatbox known as the Cauldron. The lousy little dump was hot even in the winter, and a fan directed at Bonehead was barely enough to keep him from succumbing to heat exhaustion. The band survived, somehow, and carried on down the highway for shows in Calgary and Edmonton. By now, the tank was on empty both literally and spiritually, and all the tired musicians wanted were one or two beers and a soft bed. Maybe three beers.

Limping now, the band did a gig in Vancouver and then boarded the ferry for a final, homecoming show in Victoria. The weary DayGlos mustered what little energy they had for one brutal attack, after which they hobbled off the stage to collapse in stinking, beery heaps. How nice it was to be home again, where the girls were friendly and even the bartenders and club owners were willing to forgive a few minor bar tabs, and maybe a broken window or two. Their drug connections were especially happy to see them again. All in all, the boys felt that the tour had been a huge success. It occurred to them that maybe they might even make a little money next time. Maybe.

Now the DayGlos could relax for a bit. They had left town as almost untested newbies and returned home as tour-hardened veterans of the road. New fans all across North America would be looking forward to seeing the band again, even if they would probably guard their girlfriends and refrigerators a little better. Who ever would have guessed that a small group of pirates from Canada could make so much beer disappear so quickly? The DayGlos were pleased. This was the start of something real, and they could feel it. All the band had to do now was make another red-hot album. How difficult could that be?

The DayGlo Abortions played a show at Fender’s Ballroom in Long Beach with Exodus and Possessed on December 19th 1986. Despite the fact that Mike and Nev snuck away to Hollywood to do tar heroin and returned late, Spud admits that the guitarists played well. In an unusual move, the band spent Christmas in California in order to do a show with the Circle Jerks and Wasted Youth on January 3rd 1987. They missed their friends and family over the holidays, but rainy Victoria not so much.

The boys went home after the dates, and then it was time for a well-deserved break. In fact, Spud and Jesus Bonehead were so comfortable they decided to stay in Victoria for now. The various DayGlos couch surfed briefly, but Bonehead soon moved into a dumpy little house with friends on Mason Street. Spud stayed aboard Myrtle, which he often parked outside the house. For now, at least, it seemed that the bandmembers didn’t have to worry about accommodations, even if they weren’t exactly living large. Sleeping arrangements continued to change. Tired of crashing on the bus, Spud finally moved in with Bonehead. Though he merely occupied couch space at first, the bassist/frontman begrudgingly ponied up his share of rent and became a full-fledged roommate.

Then Rancid Randy decided to purchase two parcels of land next to the house Bonehead and Spud rented on Mason Street. The lots contained three derelict houses that soon became punk central in Victoria. “Randy bought the land for $122,000, and the lots were huge,” recalls Spud. A carpenter Terry Roach lived in a smaller, cabin-style house, and another young man Dale Grove, who stayed in the bigger house, rented rooms to several local punker girls. Dale eventually moved back east, but Spud began renovating the third house, which was in the worst condition of the three. When the bass player wasn’t practicing with the band, driving cab, playing gigs, getting drunk, or chasing girls, he could be found plastering and painting to make the dump livable. As free time was all but nonexistent, work progressed slowly. Ironically, the ol’ Spudster had very little time for his beloved television.

Money was scarce. Welfare paid the rent, but that wasn’t enough to live on, so Bonehead, besides his usual sideline as a pot dealer, found work washing dishes under the table. Cretin still had his job building electronic gizmos, and Mike and Nev collected welfare in Vancouver. Day-to-day life as a DayGlo Abortion was somewhat less than glamorous, and the boys were treated with respect only when they were on tour. So it went.

Despite the usual money problems, the DayGlos were performing well as a group. Safely ensconced in the basement on Mason Street, they continued to practice. Even though Mike lived in Vancouver, the guitarist visited when he could to rehearse and to play the occasional gig. Reunited at last with Cretin the Mad Genius, the DayGlo Abortions unleashed a howling, sonic fury upon the neighbours. With three scorching guitars, the band had never sounded so hot. Truly, they were ready to take on the world.

And Cretin had not been idle while the other DayGlos were on tour. While the band battled skinheads and scabies in the USA, Cretin had written most of the music that would appear on
Here Today Guano Tomorrow.
He played tapes for the bandmembers, who were delighted with the new stuff. In turn, the boys regaled the songwriter with tales of madness and chaos from the road, and soon many of the songs had lyrics. After the album came out, friends of the band would try to remember if they had seen hamsters in the guitarist’s apartment. PETA would not be happy.

Furry critters aside, the new material was fast and heavy. While the songs were still short blasts of nihilistic energy, Cretin had upped the ante, and the level of musicianship was higher. If
Feed Us a Fetus
had been offensive to some, the gross-out factor on the new album was over the top. Song titles such as “Fuck My Shit Stinks” made it abundantly clear that the DayGlo Abortions had not mellowed with age, and that the group would not be seeking radio play. Even die-hard DayGlos fans would have difficulty comprehending the vileness of songs such as “Hide the Hamster,” which, as the title suggests, was about the insertion of live rodents into the anal cavity for sexual pleasure. It was almost as if Cretin was deliberately writing nasty songs just for the sake of writing nasty songs. Did “Kill Johnny Stiff” have any redeeming qualities at all? How could anyone write such offensive material? Was it even legal to make an album like this? No one knew.

Rape Johnny Stiff, do it now

Fuck him up the ass, piss in his mouth

Rape Johnny Stiff, feed him guano

Shred his dick, give him a barbwire catheter

Bend over, I’ll drive.

“Johnny Stiff,” who as the reader may recall, was the paisley-clad New York promoter who had allegedly swindled the band, inviting the wrath of not just the touring DayGlo Abortions, but of Cretin as well. This dislike for booking agents and promoters would seep into the singer’s lyrics on a regular basis, and his skepticism and distrust of them is legendary.

All that notwithstanding,
Here Today Guano Tomorrow
was a nasty piece of business, and the corrosive lyrics were matched only by the dazzling guitar work and metal-influenced ferocity. This was an LP designed to scare listeners away or to draw them in as committed fans. There would be no in-between, no middle ground, and for the DayGlo Abortions it was all or nothing. Though the musicians didn’t know it yet, this conscious decision to ignore established moral precepts was to have serious consequences.

At any rate, the band retired to the basement to familiarize themselves with the new material. During a break, Nev the Impaler stayed behind to practice a riff he’d been working on. When Nev went upstairs to get a beer, Cretin told the rhythm guitarist that he liked the riff, so he had better write some lyrics quick because the song was going on the new album. Nev went downstairs again and, within ten minutes, he had jotted the lyrics for “Fuck Satan to Death” on a bag from the liquor store. A local musician/recording technician named Scott Henderson helped write “Shred Central.” “Murray liked the song, so Scott and me and Nev sat around swapping lyrics for it,” recalls Spud of the song that was named after Dave Dork’s skate shop. Scott and Cretin also worked together on “The Spawn of Yoth Sogoth” and “Drugged and Driving.”

The other songs, as usual, were penned by Cretin, who was obviously on a hot streak. His satirical powers and caustic observations were poison-dipped darts, each guitar riff and snarling lyric a blistering attack on everything good and decent. Punk perfection, in other words.

Though some purists would later complain that
Guano
was more metal than punk, the album actually broke new ground as a vicious blend of crossover thrash and speedcore. Mostly, the sound on
Guano
was an inevitable progression that occurred as Cretin truly began to master the guitar. Sure,
Feed Us a Fetus
was a punk classic, but to expect the band to remain at that level would be absurd. It would be easier for Cretin to put the hops back in his beer than it would be for him to write “1967” again. Not that anyone wanted to jump in the wayback machine—those involved with the project were enthusiastic about the new material and had no desire to endlessly revisit the past.

Not only were the songs solid, but with three guitars the DayGlos were able to build a monster sound like never before. Mike Anus, however, claims to have played a minor part in the album. “I was too busy getting wrecked in Vancouver, and only contributed a few leads here and there. I went over one weekend and did my thing—I didn’t even know the songs yet,” he admits. Despite the fact that Mike later noticed what he considers to be flaws in his leads, the guitar player remembers feeling cocky and bold. “I never told this to anyone before, but when I went into the studio, I was thinking to myself, ‘Fuck you, Eddie Van Halen.’ We wanted to prove that you didn’t have to be huge rock stars to make a good album,” Mike says proudly, yet somehow humbly. It did not occur to him that the record could be anything less than great.

At the time, youth and ego were working for the DayGlos. Without a certain degree of confidence, the DayGlos wouldn’t have been able to make the music they did. Both musically and creatively the band was at a high-point, honed to a razor’s edge from long months of touring. The DayGlo Abortions were a force to be reckoned with and they knew it. These were ideal conditions, of course, under which to cut an album.

Soon the band was ready to hit the studio. Again, Fringe Product paid for the recording, and Robin Sharpe did not have to fund the project. Though the DayGlo Abortions did not receive a million-dollar signing advance, at least they would be able to make a new album and, hopefully, collect royalties. Again, the band used Legacy Studios in Victoria, but this time engineer Tony Moskal would also act as the producer. Though there was a strong argument for bringing in someone with more experience, the group was comfortable with Tony and the record label was able to save money. “Tony was great; he was professional, and I loved hanging out with him,” recalls Nev the Impaler. Taking into account the explosive new material, the strong chemistry of the assembled musicians, and the guidance of a familiar engineer, there was good reason to believe that the new album would turn out well. Given the lyrical content, there was every indication that the LP would also unleash a firestorm of controversy.