Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (27 page)

Bonehead, who didn’t have to look very hard, found the kid outside his backdoor the next day. The drummer arranged an audition for that afternoon and told Spud to get his ass to rehearsal. It had been many weeks since the boys had practiced, for what was the point with no guitar player? Squid showed up, early and eager, and the trio headed downstairs to the cramped and musty basement. The band also needed a new place to practice.

Incredibly, the kid, who already knew the songs, was a much-better-than-average guitarist. Not just that, but he seemed to play both Cretin’s and Mike’s guitar parts simultaneously. How the hell was he doing that? Spud watched him play and tried to not to let his excitement show. There was no point in giving the new guy a swelled head or anything. Besides, it was one thing to play the songs in a basement and another entirely to perform live for a audience. Some people just weren’t cut out for it. But for now, the DayGlo Abortions had a new guitarist.

Rehearsal went well, and it wasn’t long before the group was ready to play shows again. However, the practice reminded Spud that he disliked singing and would rather have someone else take over. By now, the bass player was used to Cretin doing the honours and, after only several rehearsals, his throat was so sore that he sounded like Donald Duck chewing broken glass. Perhaps the time had come to step down and let someone else knock themselves out. The more Spud thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Bonehead wasn’t exactly thrilled about bringing another new guy into the fold, but to hell with him. Let Bonehead scream his guts out every night and then see if he was still against finding a new singer. Spud was sure the drummer would change his, ahem, beat right quick.

Having made this decision, Spud felt good. Alas, the reality of the thing wasn’t quite so easy to resolve. There were plenty of bands out there now, but could they find the right guy? This wasn’t like finding a new bass player or even a guitarist; good singers were a little harder to find. Sure, Cretin wasn’t exactly Frank Sinatra, but he had his own style and the fans seemed to like it. Was it even possible to fill the position? They weren’t even sure that someone who could handle the rigours of touring with the DayGlo Abortions even existed.

Jim Correia was a rowdy skater kid in a punk rock band. He was at a Spark-marker show when Joey, who played guitar for Shutdown, told him that the DayGlo Abortions needed a singer. Then, amazingly, Joey asked if he could suggest Jim for the job. The skater agreed readily enough but didn’t give it much thought. After all, the DayGlos were legend in Victoria, and the idea of filling Cretin’s ratty sneakers, (or even Spud’s), was preposterous. If the DayGlos were actually looking for a new singer, they sure as hell wouldn’t pick some skater kid with a nasty disposition and a big mouth. As far as Jim was concerned, such a thing wasn’t even worth thinking about. Joey was full of shit.

To Jim’s surprise, the phone rang several days later, and the voice on the line belonged to none other than Jesus Bonehead. The DayGlos drummer had seen Jim perform with his band Sick Sense and was hoping to lure him away. When he finally got over his shock and stopped stuttering, Jim agreed to try out for the DayGlo Abortions. Even then, the skater didn’t allow himself to get too excited. A number of hopefuls were also trying out for the position, and Jim was certain that they all had more experience and better voices than he did. There was no way he even had a chance. Still, the young skater decided to try anyway, just for something to do. Grabbing his skateboard, Jim headed for the door. What the hell.

Born in Toronto on April 12,1973, Gymbo Jak aka Jim Correia was the son of a carpenter and a cleaning lady. His working-class Portuguese parents toiled hard to raise Jim, his older sister Carmen, and a younger sister, Margaret. The Correias were not rich, but there was never a shortage of tasty Portuguese food. In fact, music and food were constants in the Correia household, and the air was rich not only with paprika, pork, and homemade bread, but also with traditional Portuguese folk music, which is dominated by the accordion and a bagpipelike instrument known as a
gaita-de-fole transmontana.
“My parents were always playing their Portuguese 8-tracks, so I was surrounded with music from birth,” recalls the ex-DayGlos frontman. Mom and Dad, one can hope, took it with a grain of salt when their son became a punk rock singer.

The small family was tight but footloose, and the Correias moved to Sidney, British Columbia when Jim was three-years old. Situated on the southern tip of Vancouver Island, the municipality had a population of less than 10,000 at the time. In appearance, Sidney reminded the Correias of their hometown in Portugal, though it wasn’t quite as warm. They were happy with Vancouver Island, but the Correias wanted several acres of land on which to plant crops, and they wouldn’t find that in Sidney. The family settled in for now, but they would not remain forever. Farming was in their blood.

Young Jim Correia didn’t give a toss about fresh vegetables. When the boy was eleven and bored, he picked up a skateboard and his life was changed forever. There was something about that rolling piece of wood that transformed him, that gave him purpose. Skateboarding was freedom in motion. When Jim was fourteen, the family moved again, this time to Nanaimo, BC, which is two hours north of Sidney. At last, the Correias found the farmland they wanted, and it was here that they decided to lay, er, roots.

Meanwhile, Jim began listening to the guitar-driven rock music that was part of the skateboard subculture. The youth first discovered Quiet Riot and Mötley Crtie, but eventually began listening to AC/DC and Motörhead. From there, it wasn’t such a huge jump to local heroes the DayGlo Abortions. Punk rock, Jim felt, was perfect for skateboarding because both subcultures belonged to the underground. At the time, kids could be arrested simply for skateboarding, and skaters could provoke a strong reaction just for wearing punk clothing or for having a funny haircut. Jim figured since he already rode a skateboard, that he might as well listen to punk rock, and he was soon rolling in style. Anyone who didn’t like it could take a hike.

When Jim was seventeen, he decided to leave home. Not quite ready to move to Vancouver, but ready to leave Nanaimo, Jim settled for Victoria because he had friends there. It was while living in the capital city that the young man fully immersed himself in skate culture. “My dad was a bit of a heavy drinker, so I figured it was time for me to get the hell out of the house,” Jim recounts. “I’d been having issues with him since I was twelve.” Around this time, the skater received $5000 from a car accident insurance settlement. He used some of the money to move, but the large majority went to booze, and some acid and weed as well. In less than a month, the settlement was all gone. “It was a good time,” recalls Jim, chuckling.

Jim’s friend Lonnie started calling him Gymbo, and soon no one used his real name. Gymbo recalls hearing about the Fringe Product obscenity case long before he met the band. “The DayGlos records at Lyle’s Place had warning stickers plastered all over them, which just got me more stoked on them,” the singer recalls. He was hardly alone in that respect. Sergeant Fitzgibbons and the Province of Ontario had steered more kids towards the DayGlo Abortions than every record reviewer combined. Anyway, the singer lost his punk gig cherry to a DayGlos/Sacrifice show at Nanaimo in 1988. From the start, he was drawn to the band’s rude satire and explosive energy. There was no going back to Quiet Riot, or even to AC/DC. Motörhead still kicked ass though.

Now, as Gymbo rolled towards the audition, he thought about the first time he met Jesus Bonehead, when a friend named Freestyle Jak took him to score some weed. The youths had arrived just in time to watch Bonehead and his wife feed a live rabbit to a rather large and hungry boa constrictor, which quickly swallowed the snack; bones, fur, and all. “That was kinda trippy,” recounts the singer, shaking his head. The feeding concluded, Bonehead regaled Gymbo and Freestyle with tour stories and whatnot, being very gregarious and sociable. “I dunno if he was just stoned, but it was like he was my best buddy, and I’d just met him,” Gymbo recalls, wondering if Bonehead was as friendly to all of his customers. After that, the drummer/weed dealer showed Gymbo his mom’s ashes, as if he’d known him for years. Perhaps Bonehead was simply trying to take his guest’s minds off the grisly feeding. Some people feel a bit queasy after witnessing such a thing for the first time.

But all that was in the past, and Gymbo soon arrived at the practice pad. The house on Burton Avenue, which Squid rented with several friends, had become the new DayGlo rehearsal spot only because the band didn’t to rent a space. After the usual delays, Gymbo sang a few songs with the band. He thought they sounded all right, but then Spud indicated that the audition was over. Gymbo jumped on his skateboard, amazed that he had just tried out for Victoria’s most notorious punk band. Though he felt that the audition had gone well enough, it still didn’t occur to Gymbo that he might
get
the gig. Surely, either Jake Warren from Breach or Trevor Shadley from Shutdown would be the lucky guy. Too bad, because it would be a blast to sing for the DayGlos. Gymbo could already imagine the boiling pit and the feeling of power in his guts as he belted out the vocals through a massive PA. Never mind the girls, the beer, and the drugs; it was the thrill of being onstage that made it all worthwhile. His band Sick Sense, while fairly popular, was not in the same league as the DayGlos. To sing for such a well-known and notorious group would truly be the shit. He thought it might even pay the rent.

Gymbo didn’t know it, but Jake Warren had already declined the audition. “Bonehead asked me, but he was also asking Gymbo, so I told him he didn’t need to look any further than that. Gymbo is a DayGlo—I’m not,” says Jake matter-of-factly. At the time, Gymbo did not possess that same confidence.

Incredibly, Gymbo found himself back at Squid’s place several days later, and this time the band practiced for hours. Spud didn’t think Gymbo was a great singer, but that wasn’t important. “Gymbo had a really powerful, loud voice, and that’s what we wanted. He could really belt it out,” recalls Spud. Bonehead was almost as friendly as he’d been the first time they met, but Gymbo had the impression that Spud didn’t like him very much. “Me and Spud were at each other’s throats from the very start,” says Gymbo. The snarly bandleader barked out commands with the brusque and officious manner of a drill sergeant. Still, Gymbo did his best to be respectful. In the beginning at least.

Not only did the DayGlo Abortions have a new singer, but they soon added a temporary guitarist as well. Johnny Ward was a huge DayGlo Abortions fan and didn’t hesitate to fill in when offered the opportunity. The guitarist was temporarily out of work, and was waiting to hear back from several employers. Johnny figured he could hang out with the DayGlos, at least for one tour.

Gymbo continued to play the occasional show with Sick Sense, but he had clearly pledged allegiance to the DayGlo Abortions and the writing was on the wall. Hung Jak, who played guitar for Sick Sense, eyed Gymbo jealously. Why had their frontman been chosen to join the big leagues? He wasn’t
that
great a singer was he? For now, Sick Sense carried on, but this conflict would continue to plague them. For the time being, Gymbo divided his time between the two bands and did his best to placate both camps. A tightrope act.

The DayGlo Abortions continued to rehearse, and before long they were ready to introduce their new singer and guitarists to the world. Gymbo was still amazed to be singing for the band, but Spud and Bonehead were anxious to tour again before the world forgot about them. Interestingly, Gymbo had become the singer for Sick Sense in much the same manner. Several skaters he knew needed a place to practice, and Gymbo allowed them to use the basement of the house he rented with friends. When their singer failed to appear, Gymbo stepped into the vacant spot. He was a singer by default.

One night, Cretin went to see the new DayGlo Abortions. He was gratified when the kids kept telling him to get up and sing. A part of him, he realized, wanted to do just that. The new singer looked familiar to the ex-DayGlo, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen him before. Then Cretin remembered that the buff young skater ripping it up onstage had once dated the girl he’d hired to baby-sit his kids. Gymbo admits that dating the girl wasn’t the brightest thing he’d ever done. “She was pretty young, and I was pretty dumb,” the singer reflects sheepishly. “Cretin says he saw me hiding outside in the bushes, but I don’t think he did—I think the girl just told him she was dating me.”

Cretin went home after the show without sticking around to party. He had to admit that the new guy was a good performer. The DayGlos seemed fresher now with Gymbo at the helm. The sonofabitch looked good up there, even if the fans didn’t particularly seem to like him. Cretin was glad that Spud and Bonehead hadn’t allowed the band to die. Maybe there was some life in it yet.

Gymbo remembers his first show with the DayGlo Abortions at the Town Pump in Vancouver. As he had done in Sick Sense, the singer wrote on his body with a black felt pen before the show, and a girl in the audience recalls that the words read “Fuck Me.” The band pulled out all the stops that night, eager to prove they had not lost the edge. Some of the fans—upon noticing that Cretin was missing—were abusive, but most thrashed in the pit just like always. Gymbo knew the girls were reading the crude message on his sweaty torso. With any luck, one of them might take him up on it later.

The gig went off as well as could be expected, especially since the fans had expected to see The Cretin singing. “I was trying to keep the moves going and keep the kids stoked, but it was a rough show because nobody expected to see some long-haired skater kid fronting the band,” Gymbo reflects. The new singer figured he wouldn’t be with the band long, so what did he care what the fans thought? “I thought I was just filling in for one tour. I had no idea I’d be around for thirteen years,” he laughs. Not just that, but thirteen years with the DayGlo Abortions is the equivalent of a hundred years with any other band.