by Chris Walter
Nevertheless, the band was back on track now. Although Ed Dobek was only with them on a casual basis, the youths were pleased to have a real drummer and practiced as often as they could. Soon the newly named Live Sex Shows felt they were ready to play at the Spartan Men’s Club (commonly known as “Spartan’s”), located at 12645 - 66th Street. Although Spartan’s was not yet the infamous venue it would become, and even though they got through the set okay, the boys were a bit anxious because it was a real punk gig with real punk rockers. Still, the thrill of performing live trumped any nervousness they might have had. Next time they planned to move around a bit more.
Not long after the first show, a local organization known as CALM (Canadian Association for the Liberation of Marijuana) decided to hold a fund-raiser, and Phil Larson talked them into adding Live Sex Shows to the bill at the last minute. “Phil was smooth—he had the gift,” laughs Brent Belke. Marc thinks it might have been Dan Webster who got them the gig, since his band The Diefenbakers also played. Because they were a last minute addition, Live Sex Shows didn’t have a chance to practice for the event. The guys were excited and nervous all at once. Normal citizens would actually be watching them this time.
On June 6th, 1981, CALM held the fund-raising event at Riverdale Hall. The $20 cover charge included as much beer and chili as guests could consume, and the organizers held a raffle for pot-laced brownies and other goodies. A local band the Urban Surfers was on hand to play several sets of twisted ‘60s favourites for the very stoned crowd of bikers and longhairs. Fourteen year old drummer Evan C. Jones was already fairly wasted when his fellow band-members warned that the bikers might not like it if they turned in a poor performance. Sufficiently motivated, Evan laid off the booze and the boys got through the set without any major setbacks. “In fact, they totally loved us,” says the drummer, thinking back to the smoky, gaseous event. “That place fuckin’ stunk, man,” says Evan remembering the vast quantities of beer and chili consumed. Still, for the Surfers, these two shows were as good as it would get. They actually got paid.
The next afternoon, CALM held a larger, outdoor event at Borden Park. For this shindig, the hungover bikers and hippies mingled with curious teenagers and potheads from all walks of life. The opening act was brand new, but Evan found their name amusing. Was Live Sex Shows an event or a musical group? When he met the band backstage, he recognized the drummer from the local punk scene, and arranged to use his kit, since it would save time on tear down and set up. Ed Dobek was a respected drummer, and the others looked kind of familiar as well. The way they dressed caught Evan’s attention and led him to believe they were different from the other bands. Who were these guys?
Evan was not the only curious person there, and guests milled around waiting impatiently for the “sex show.” An audible sigh of disappointment rose from the crowd when a group of teenage boys took the stage. Few were interested in any sort of sex show these kids might supply, and those who were didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention. The MC stepped forward to fire up the crowd with a calculated speech. “How y’all doing?” the MC called to the stoned hippies and bikers. “Are y’all ready for a live sex show?” The roar from the crowd was deafening, even if they still wondered who was going to supply the sex. Hopefully the event would involve at least two comely females. “Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I give you, LIVE SEX SHOWS!” the MC shouted into the microphone, sensing the crowd would throw bottles if he strung them along too far.
Marc spotted Dan Webster near the front of the stage, frantically urging him to start playing. Obligingly, the guitarist blasted into the opening chords of Black Flag’s “Nervous Breakdown,” and the band came in at the right moment, causing guests to grumble mutinously before breaking into a chorus of hisses and boos. Soon the audience began to dissipate considerably. “It would be an exaggeration to say they left in droves, but some of them did leave,” Brent Belke admits. Urban Surfers drummer Evan C. Jones would have stayed for the show, even if his band weren’t up next. He watched excitedly as the first singer departed, leaving a skinny Asian teenager to finish the show. They weren’t accomplished musicians, but the style of music thrilled Evan enormously. With a start, he realized that most of the members had been present at every punk show he’d seen.
Live Sex Shows only played perhaps four songs, but the name drew the attention of the local media, and an article in The Edmonton Journal mentioned the young punks. Even though Mrs. Belke wouldn’t have recognized the name of her sons’ band, she somehow figured it out and the boys were punished. “We didn’t ask her if we could play because we didn’t want to get grounded again,” says Marc, as if explaining gravity to a clumsy child. “I didn’t even really know about marijuana at the time. To me, it was just a gig.”
Not long afterwards, Brent and Marc dropped acid before a show at Spartan’s, with Blank Generation and the Subhumans, and the experience was unpleasant to say the least. “It was a disaster,” remembers Marc. “I’d had a few concussions from playing hockey, and it kind of reminded me of that.” LSD was no fun, and Marc never did it again. “Maybe it was just the wrong environment, but that was way too much to handle,” says the guitarist.
Bad trips aside, trouble was brewing for Live Sex Shows. Shortly after the gig at Spartan’s, guitarist Brent Belke decided to quit because he hated singing. He still wanted to play music, but wasn’t sure if he cared to be in a hardcore band, and thought it would be better to withdraw altogether. Still, Brent had to admit that his ex-bandmates were learning quickly. Rather than give up on the guitar, he played along with the band from his bedroom when they practiced in the basement, and it would seem that sibling rivalry played at least a small part in his desire to keep up. Brent goes on to assert that while he learned the instrument only through perseverance, Marc was a natural musician from the beginning. For now, Brent was content to practice in his room while the noisy hardcore thundered up through the floorboards. Ken wasn’t such a bad singer, even if his lyrics tended to be a bit odd sometimes.
At this point, the Belke brothers, especially Marc and his pronounced disdain for authority, had become part of the early ‘80s phenomenon known as suburban hardcore punk rock. The typically good-looking, grain-fed Belkes were not motivated by the harsh socioeconomic factors facing British punks, and liked the new music simply for the excitement and energy it provided. Although Marc and Brent were partly attracted to the rebel image of hardcore punk, they did not espouse a nihilistic lifestyle, and they certainly weren’t budding drug addicts or criminals. Instead, they saw a raw musicality in the pounding rhythms and distorted guitars that most of their peers could neither understand nor appreciate. To the twins, hardcore was exhilarating, as much about the rush as anything else. Like Cyndi Lauper, but in a highly adrenalized and testosterone-driven way, the boys just wanted to have some fun.
For Ken Chinn, whose childhood wasn’t as secure, the story was a bit different. The negativity of hardcore strongly appealed to him, and he dressed punk partly to freak out the squares. The young singer didn’t feel as if he fit in anywhere except punk rock, so why shouldn’t he take it all the way? He took pride in his abilities as a shoplifter, and identified with outlaws and criminals. While he did not wish to join his siblings in jail, he did not condemn them for their activities. Being gay and partly closeted further alienated him from mainstream society, heightening his sense of aloneness and isolation. While Ken didn’t immediately become a raging alcoholic or drug addict, he was predisposed to addiction from the start. There was a not-so-hidden anger in the teenager—a desire to strike back against a world that was often cruel and unjust.
Live Sex Shows might have survived the loss of Brent, but Ken Chinn and Marc Belke were already developing a musical chemistry that didn’t include Phil Larson and Ed Dobek. As much as Marc and Ken wanted to make things work, it slowly became apparent to the duo that they needed a new rhythm section. Since they couldn’t just fire their friends, Marc and Ken felt they had no ch
oice but to dissolve the group. Then, after a period of grace, say, three or four days, they could form a new band with a different rhythm section. Just because they didn’t have anyone lined up didn’t mean they wouldn’t be able to find the right replacements easily enough. There had to be a dozen hardcore drummers and bassists lurking in the shadows. How hard could it be to find one?
Phil Larson was not happy to be shown the door. He loaded up his PA and went home, vowing never to speak to Marc and Ken again, or at least not for a couple of weeks. Although Ed Dobek was also a bit disgruntled, he still had the Malibu Kens and could drum for pretty much any underground band that came along. Marc and Ken regretted having to sack their good friends, but punk rock was a vicious game and they were only doing what was best for the band.
Now that they were starting a new band, Marc and Ken managed to talk Brent into rejoining. “At that point, I decided that I might as well give it a shot,” says Brent. “But I still didn’t want to be a singer, and it was understood that Ken would be doing all the vocals.” With this out of the way, the trio immediately began to hold auditions, but things didn’t go as anticipated. One youth, remembered only as “Woody,” wasn’t anywhere near talented enough to play noisy hardcore, and the tryouts continued. Another teen wanted to play guitar, but the band needed three guitarists like Mr. Belke needed another copy of Decline of Western Civilization. If anyone could bang on the drums, and bass guitars only had four strings, then why was it so difficult to fill those spots?
Musically, Marc, Brent, and Ken began to gel for real. Even without a rhythm section, the roar that wafted up from the basement became increasingly musical, even for hardcore punk rock. Still, the lack of a bass player and drummer was a real problem. With growing desperation, they followed leads and sniffed out possibilities like homicide detectives trying to break a frustrating cold case. As time went on, they began to despair. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to find the musicians they needed in Edmonton.
The situation resolved itself when Marc took a phone call from a local punk rocker know as “Guido,” whose real name was Anthony Fulmes. As it turned out, Ed Dobek, Anthony Fulmes, Mike McDonald, Scott Juskiw, and several other punks not only knew each other from the punk scene, but also from Archbishop O’Leary High School. Anthony had discovered that the Belkes were jamming and wanted to know if it was okay to drop by with two friends. Anthony was learning to play guitar, Warren Bidlock wanted to play bass, and Evan C. Jones, who had already been in several bands, including the Urban Surfers, would take the drum stool. Although Marc wasn’t expecting much from Guido and Warren, who had no experience at all, the thought of snagging a real drummer was exciting.
Not long afterwards, on a blustery November day in 1981, Warren Bidlock, Anthony “Guido” Fulmes and Evan C. Jones arrived at the Belke house for a jam. Warren and Guido brought guitars, but Evan used the cheap drum kit that was already there. The boys started to play, and it quickly became apparent that Anthony was not making the grade. Marc and Brent used barre chords to play recognizable punk covers, but Anthony, who went on to become a major in the Canadian Forces, had trouble just picking out the notes. Besides, Ken, Brent, and Marc wanted two guitars in the band, not three. Warren wasn’t so bad on the bass, and it seemed that he just might work out if given the chance to practice regularly. It was immediately clear that Evan was a fine drummer. At this point, all the boys had to do was to pick a name and get to work.
Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here
Edmonton in the early ‘80s was hardly a safe haven for punk rockers. While it can be safely argued that the spiky headed set were not safe anywhere back then, Edmonton was especially dangerous for those who dared to take a confrontational stance. The townsfolk were easily provoked, and youngsters sporting buzz haircuts and peg-leg trousers were more than enough to send them into a murderous frenzy. Anyone crazy enough to dye their hair or wear an earring was a major threat to society, but some risked their lives to look the part nevertheless. So what if they had to run rather than walk? A little exercise never killed anyone—angry rednecks did.
Drummer Evan Christopher Jones discovered punk rock very early and knew all about fleeing for his life. The youth joined his first band when he was just eleven years old, and because of his involvement in the local music scene, he was on hand to witness the evolution of Edmonton’s underground music scene as punk switched over to hardcore. Though Evan’s first group was not really punk rock, it fell solidly within the realm of underground music, even if the members sported typically long hair. Evan’s new band, however, would lead the charge for hardcore punk in E-Town. History was in the offing.
Making his first live appearance on February 13th, 1966, Evan was the youngest of four children born to Eleanor and Albert Jones. While it would be nice to start on a happy note, the family was no stranger to tragedy, and their oldest child, Garth drowned in a North Saskatchewan River tobogganing accident when he was five. Eleanor and Albert, while completely devastated, went on to have two girls, Lynn in 1951, and Dilys in 1956. The Welsh couple still wanted a son, but ten years passed before Evan was born. Sadly, his dad, a long-time employee of Imperial Oil, passed away from Multiple Sclerosis in 1971. Eleanor managed to persevere, but would have been in danger of losing her children had the house not been fully paid off. As it was, her job as secretary at an elementary school just barely covered the bills. The family did not starve, but luxuries were rare.
There may not have been much money, but there was plenty of music and love in the Jones’ household. Eleanor played the piano, and Evan’s sisters were pop music fans, introducing him to The Beatles when he was very young. “The Beatles kick my ass, even to this day. They drilled a groovy hole right through my brain,” Evan reports, remembering the first time he heard the British pop sensations. Although money was tight, Mrs. Jones could see that her son had a natural proclivity for music. At two years old, the boy used pots and pans as percussion instruments and held impromptu concerts in the kitchen. Some years later, after much pleading, the single mother promised Evan that she would buy him a small drum kit if he completed six months of accordion lessons. The boy not only finished the lessons, but he also scored 100% on the final test. Evan got his drums and lessons to go with them.
After learning paradiddles, flams, drum rolls, and single, quarter, eighth, and sixteenth notes, Evan began sitting in with a pair of older local musicians. Soon the trio formed a loose-knit band with no name. On July 27th, 1977, as punk made headlines around the world, the guitar player took eleven year old Evan to the Edmonton Coliseum, where they saw the rock group Kiss, which made a huge impression on the youngster. In town for their Love Gun Tour, Kiss detonated not just the usual truckload of pyrotechnics, but Evan’s head as well. The rookie drummer absorbed the spectacle and immediately decided that he also wanted to be where the action was. “I saw them spewing smoke and fire and blood, and I eventually ended up doing that too,” says Evan, although the various bodily fluids he expelled would be real. Although SNFU ultimately employed a wide range of stage props, fake blood was never among them.
Evan also discovered booze and weed at eleven, and claims to have lost his virginity that same year to a worldly girl of thirteen. “She was the guitar player’s younger cousin,” laughs Evan, who was beginning to learn that some girls liked musicians. The other bandmembers were many years older than himself, and he became accustomed to staying up partying until all hours. As a single mother, Eleanor was unable to provide proper supervision for the youngster. His grades suffered and he bounced in and out of school, quitting for good in grade seven. As a rock n’ roller, Evan felt that he had no need of a formal education.
For all the entertainment the no-name band provided, Evan’s participation with the group soon came to an end. After seeing Kiss, he found it difficult to maintain interest in a band that had never played a live show and still covered radio songs. Evan needed an outfit that packed a heavier punch, even if he had absolutely no idea how to find one. Whi
le punk rock had reached a frenzied peak internationally, the new music was still not popular in E-Town. Even if a few kids had somehow managed to procure copies of the dreadful Sex Pistols album, they were hardly a threat to society.
More than a year of stagnation followed for young Evan, but after hearing the Dead Boys and others in early 1979, the youth sensed that punk might be the answer. While Sid Vicious was already dead, having famously ODd in New York City on February 2nd, the Edmonton punks were just getting started.
Evan C. Jones helped to start The Uncolas in late 1979. Jungle Jim Algie handled bass duties, Evan played the drums, and Dale Moskalyk sang and played guitar. The trio, while influenced by the Sex Pistols and the Dead Boys, choose to cover “weird, faster versions of ‘60s radio songs” instead of writing original material. That band didn’t last either, and it wasn’t long before Evan and Jungle Jim Algie replaced Dale Moskalyk with Al Miller to form the Urban Surfers. Upheaval was the norm, and progress was the goal.
On Saturday, February 7th, 1980, the Urban Surfers played the Northmount Community Centre with DOA, The Sturgeons, and Blank Generation. Interestingly, the poster was designed by Ken Chinn, who was thoughtful enough to include his name at the bottom. The exciting and well-attended gig was a life-changing event for young Mr. Jones. Instead of watching Kiss’ Peter Criss drum from the nosebleed section of the Coliseum, the youth found himself backstage as Chuck Biscuits of DOA gave his oversized kit a punishing workout not ten feet away. Evan was dumbstruck by the explosive fury that Chuck unleashed on his poor drums. “He was playing with drumsticks the size of baseball bats,” remembers Evan. The other E-Town bands seemed without power in comparison, and Evan knew he had found what he was looking for.