Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Itching to play somewhere, anywhere, SNFU jumped at a chance to appear in a warehouse somewhere in downtown Edmonton, which Jimmy remembers as his first gig with the band. “Cement floor, cement walls—cement everything,” says Jimmy, recalling the lousy acoustics. While the sound may not have been spectacular and the band was still a bit stiff, at least the crowd was appreciative. Still, the more the new bassist played with SNFU, the more he thought they were real musicians and he was just an impostor. In truth, Jimmy “Roid” Schmitz was his own worst critic. Punk has never been about musical perfection.

  The first real SNFU gig that everyone remembers was the show on March 19th, 1983 with the Stretch Marks and Euthanasia at the Spartan Men’s Club. Already SNFU were becoming hometown hardcore heroes, even if the Stretch Marks still garnered more attention for now. SNFU was coming up fast however, and the Stretchies were already leaning to a more roots-oriented style of punk rock. Mark Stretch recalls that Chi Pig gave him a Live Sex Shows T-shirt. “Bill (Stretch Marks guitarist) didn’t like Gubby (Szvoboda) because he was out of hand,” laughs Mark. “I wish I could remember more, but I can’t even tell you what I had for breakfast this morning.” Bunt Belke remembers that some of the kids just stood there and didn’t know how to react. But one threw bottles, which counted for something.

  Just two weeks later, on March 31st, SNFU took the bull by the horns and hosted their first show at the Spartan Men’s Club. Although the decrepit hall had been used off-and-on since early 1980, SNFU felt Spartan’s was good enough to book regularly and decided to take over. Thrash & Burn ‘83 would feature SNFU, Down Syndrome, and Bing Jesus, who formed especially for the show. Ed Dobek of the Malibu Kens, and formerly of Live Sex Shows, played guitar and sang for Bing Jesus, and Phil Larson handled bass duties. Marc Belke sat in on drums, and a friend named Rob Viereck took second guitar. By now, Ed and Phil had almost forgiven their former bandmates for replacing them with Evan and Jimmy. They knew that SNFU was moving in a direction they didn’t really understand, and bore them no hard feelings—or at least none they would admit. The show would help smooth ruffled feathers and mend old friendships.

  Thrash & Burn ‘83 got off to a tense start because no one was sure if anyone would show up. To their relief, the place was soon jammed with guests who watched curiously as Ed Dobek, perched on a folding metal chair, strummed a guitar and sang ironic cover songs. Bing Jesus wasn’t booed off the stage, but the punks were more than ready for Down Syndrome and SNFU, who brought down the house with an intense barrage of hardcore punk rock. In fact, hardcore was still so new in Edmonton that some of the guests stood still in front of the stage, unsure as to how they should react. Apparently, they hadn’t seen the episode of Quincy, where a psychopath in the pit employs an icepick to deadly effect. Or maybe they had seen the show, and wanted no part of that.

  After the gig, SNFU divided the money into three equal piles. Muc, who was in two of the bands, obviously got a little more than the others did, but fair was fair. With another successful show under their young, loud, and snotty belts, SNFU felt they were finally making headway.

  From the start, SNFU was not just a punk band but rather a group of individuals with a common goal. Those closest to the group, such as Andy Rogers, who postered for the band and made it possible for them to practice in his parents’ garage, and Gubby Szvoboda, who helped with bookings and management, were particularly helpful, but many others also worked selflessly to keep SNFU moving in a forward direction. From Roszay Baumgartner, who was rarely seen without her camera and published the White Pages fanzine, to Ray Hatcher who printed patches at work and sold them to the band at cost, everyone around the band pitched in any way they could. “SNFU represented us around North America, so we wanted them to succeed,” explains Gubby Szvoboda. Even at this early stage, fans could see SNFU had the potential to spread the message beyond Edmonton.

  SNFU were also quick to develop merchandise—not really as a way to make money, but because they thought punk shirts were cool and that they should have them. The band had only been together a short time when they used the West Watch recording to produce a lo-fi demo tape, which they sent to record labels and sold at gigs. Brent vaguely remembers taking the master tape to be duplicated onto cassettes. “I think there were only two songs on that tape, ‘Life of a Bag Lady’ and ‘This Is The End,’ but it served its purpose,” reasons the guitarist. “We probably wouldn’t have got the gig in Calgary if we didn’t have that demo tape.” The cassette, very rare now, featured a red label with a skull and crossbones between the “SN” and the “FU.” “We probably only made ten or twenty copies, unless we made more later,” says Muc.

  Aside from the scarcity of recorded music, the band worked hard to produce other merchandise. The patches, T-shirts, and stickers provided the band with an invaluable source of free advertising, and the money generated helped cover the cost of everything from drumsticks and guitar strings to gasoline. “If we didn’t have those shirts to sell then we would have been fucking starving, and we couldn’t have gone on the road as long as we did,” Chi Pig told interviewer Stephen Perry in 1987. “Some self-righteous punk rockers gave us hag, calling us capitalists and stuff because of our merchandising schemes, but a lot of times we made more money selling merchandise than we did playing the actual show.”

  With no graphic designers other than Ken Hansen to create artwork for them, the band felt they had no alternative but to swipe cool stuff that already existed. With this in mind, Brent and Marc decided to start with their oldest brother’s extensive collection of horror magazines, sneaking into David Belke’s room to search for cool stuff while he was out. Leafing idly through a tattered copy of Eerie magazine, Marc stopped abruptly when the image of a grotesquely rotted head jumped out at him. The picture was so revolting, so disgusting, that it immediately appealed to his punk sensibilities. Bunt looked at the advertisement and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Although the caption under the image said “Open Your Mouth and Say AAAARGH”, it would be easy enough to replace the “AAAARGH” with “SNFU.” Muc and Bunt instantly agreed that the image would be perfect for stickers and maybe a few T-shirts. They were sure that the people who owned the artwork would never find out. After all, they didn’t intend to sell the image many thousands of times over the next three decades and spread it all over the world. That would be wrong.

  Bob Montgomery, DOA’s ex-road manager remembers how iconic the image became. “At every single show I would see kids in the crowd wearing either one of two T-shirts: half would be the Misfits skull shirts and the other half would be the SNFU zombie heads. Every show in every town. It was like part of some punk rock uniform.” Amazingly, the company that originally ran the ad soon went out of business, and although Bernie Wrightson, who drew the image, must have eventually learned that SNFU was using it, no one ever tried to stop them. The image has become theirs by default.

  Things continued to happen quickly. In May of 1983, a music-loving truck driver named Barry Peters asked SNFU if they would like to contribute to It Came From Inner Space, a compilation album on his indie label, Rubber Records. The band quickly accepted, recording “Strip Search,” “Grunt, Groan, Rant & Rave,” and “Real Men Don’t Watch Quincy” at a makeshift studio that Peters built in a warehouse. “Barry brought in the equipment and set it up. He did it all himself,” says Brent, still impressed. The space was also a hangout for skaters, and Brent vaguely recalls someone breaking an arm there that spring. Because they were there to work, the guys didn’t have time to injure themselves skating. Instead, they blew the tweeters in Barry’s speakers. “I think Evan pushed the levels a bit too high,” says Brent. He isn’t certain who was responsible, but he does remember that the band replaced the tweeters. All is fair in love and recording.

  The session didn’t take long, and SNFU was soon finished. Although the compilation featured most of the city’s top underground acts, including the Malibu Kens, and Moe Berg’s latest project, facecrime (a name taken from Geor
ge Orwell’s 1984), only SNFU and Down Syndrome could be considered hardcore punk. Because they were faster and more aggressive, those two bands were the easiest to identify. Barry Peters probably lost money on the venture, and certainly none of the bands ever saw a nickel from it, but SNFU gained some much-touted “exposure” that promoters always claimed was so important. Too bad exposure didn’t cover the cost of guitar strings.

  Other shows followed, and the popularity of the group continued to grow. As the spring of ‘83 turned to summer, the Edmonton hardcore scene also kicked into high gear. At every show, SNFU attracted new fans. “Anyone who wasn’t into the poppier new wave stuff was an instant fan,” reflects Jimmy “Roid” Schmitz. “There wasn’t really anyone else around.” Although newcomers Down Syndrome were fast and ferocious, SNFU had already edged past them in terms of status and reputation. Euthanasia, who didn’t play all that often, were more experimental in their musical approach and couldn’t really be considered hardcore. Nonetheless, the movement was growing.

  As SNFU became more proficient musicians, they became more active onstage, and were no longer rooted to one spot. Chi Pig also began to employ a few stage props. Over time, he would amass an arsenal of seemingly harmless items; everything from huge inflatable toys, to economy-sized bags of cereal and other foodstuffs that he would dump on the audience. Combined with the hyperactive stage show, the band became known for outrageous antics involving normally mundane items found in local department stores or supermarkets. Crowds generally reacted without hostility when doused with puffed wheat or flour, and though venue owners may have hated such stunts, the band became known for them.

  Chi Pig worked hard to transform himself into the consummate frontman, delighting crowds with his rubber faced expressions and high-flying acrobatics. He instinctively knew how to move onstage—not that he didn’t steal a few things from other singers. Those frontmen, in turn, borrowed moves from other performers, and none were truly original. Be that as it may, Chi Pig always managed to put his own stamp on everything he did, by either accident or design. Ken Chinn, the sardonic social reject, was reborn as the charismatic and captivating Chi Pig.

  If Ken had changed, so had the others. As a group, they fit together perfectly, each piece exactly where it should be. Marc Belke was the unofficial musical leader, writing most of the riffs and organizing the arrangements. He became even more obsessed with his instrument, studying songs and trying different guitar techniques. Perhaps even more so than the others he was driven, always seeking to improve his game. Like Chi Pig, Marc also developed his stage moves, and the musicians were never in the same place for longer than a microsecond. Both aurally and visually, SNFU was the act to beat, provoking jealousy among the other bands and leading to the usual gossip. Aside from those petty details, SNFU was doing better than even the members themselves anticipated. The band practiced relentlessly, even forgoing skateboarding to hone their art. There was nothing else they would rather do.

  In July of 1983, the band accompanied the LA group Youth Brigade on a jaunt through Alberta and Saskatchewan to Winnipeg, Manitoba. Gubby Szvoboda, who had kept in touch with the Stern brothers of Youth Brigade and the Better Youth Organization record label, was instrumental in setting up the mini-tour, and a friend named Slavek Branicki was kind enough to drive them.

  Gubby and Jimmy met the Sterns the year before, when Social Distortion and Youth Brigade toured Canada, playing the Villa Vesuvius Hall at 11368 - 95th Street in Edmonton. It also helped that Jimmy knew people in Winnipeg, including punk promoter and ex-band mate Matt Vinet. Of course, SNFU had played with the Stretch Marks and Personality Crisis before, so they would not be strangers. SNFU knew that Winnipeg had a thriving hardcore scene, and although the show didn’t look like a moneymaker, they were excited nevertheless.

  The Sterns were familiar with the “Life of a Bag Lady” cassette, but had never seen the band live before. They were favourably moved by the way SNFU handled themselves on-stage at the Longbar in Calgary; impressed enough to offer the Edmontonians a spot on their upcoming compilation album, Something To Believe In, which was due for release in early 1984. Arrangements were made for SNFU to return to Winnipeg in November, where they would record with The Unwanted. Personality Crisis and the Stretch Marks, also slated to appear on the album, would record at a different time. For now, SNFU focused on the

  shows in Winnipeg, and tried not to think too far ahead. Provided they survived the journey.

  Jimmy Schmitz remembers the difficult trip to Winnipeg. “We had to go in Slavek’s car because we didn’t have a vehicle. Slavek had this great big car with the SNFU logo stencilled on the windows. We drove all the way to Calgary, Regina, and Winnipeg and back, crowded in there like sardines.” Slavek remembers leaving after the Edmonton show in his 426 hemi Plymouth Grand Fury en route to Winnipeg. “We drove to Calgary, and outside the venue, we picked up Buddy Selfish AKA Ian Tiles of the Pointed Sticks, who was sitting cross-legged on an old battered suitcase wearing a black suit and reflector sunglasses.” With Ian on board, the young musicians resumed the journey, packed even more tightly than before. As it turned out, the Hells Angels were on a bike run, and soon the car was surrounded by outlaw bikers, who were amused by the punkers in the retired police car with the SNFU stencils. Slavek remembers stopping at a bar along the way where a group of Angels had also gathered. “Lots of pretty girls, and tons of beer. It was crazy!” Slavek minded his manners, and eventually continued the trip with his face intact.

  The long journey continued, but the occupants were extremely cramped with Ian jammed in next to them. Although Muc thought it was a bit crazy to stuff another body into the crowded automobile, he kept his mouth shut for fear of disrespecting a punk rock elder from an established and successful band. Brent remembers that Ian fell asleep somewhere in the middle of Saskatchewan. “All of a sudden Ian lets out this bloodcurdling shriek that scared the shit out of us all,” laughs Brent, shaking his head at the recollection. “I have bad dreams when I’m fatigued, and I’d been drifting around looking for work without much sleep,” admits Ian Tiles, sheepishly confirming the story. Brent and Marc, being young and respectful, didn’t bother to ask Ian why he had to look for work on the road after drumming for one of Canada’s most successful underground acts. That it might be impossible to make a living from music was something the Belkes did not want to consider.

  Slavek Branicki was yet another part of the loose collective that helped SNFU with everything from T-shirt production to transportation. Without help from Slavek and many others, SNFU might never have succeeded the way they did. The band brought only minimal equipment on this trip, and Brent remembers that Evan’s snare drum, stowed on the deck against the back window, slid forward to smack the poor drummer in the back of the head whenever the car stopped sharply. “Evan would swear bitterly and rub his head, but there was nowhere else to put the snare,” laughs Bunt, who did not offer to switch spots with Evan. His sympathy, after all, extended only so far.

  The motley group continued on, packed as tightly as ever, with Evan’s snare smacking him in the head with each abrupt stop. A large hole in the muffler made the trip even more gruelling. “The broken muffler caused the back seat to heat up, and we were cooking back there,” laughs Evan, although the situation was probably nowhere near as funny at the time. No one had much money, so they didn’t stop to eat very often. Still, and despite the overcrowding, the band was excited about going to Winnipeg, which boasted the largest hardcore scene in Canada outside of Vancouver or Toronto. Any half-assed dreams the punk rockers might have had about becoming big stars clashed head on with the reality of touring in a car. At least Black Flag had a van.

  The boys arrived in Winnipeg, stiff from riding in such cramped conditions, happy just to be out of the car. The show at the punk-operated Doghouse on Saturday, July 30th, 1983, with Youth Brigade and Last Gasp was rowdy and full. The crowd reaction was better than they had hoped, which did much to bolster their confidence. Eve
ryone at the Doghouse was wowed by the young punks from E-Town. It barely seemed possible that the explosive new group had been together less than a year.

  Saturday night, unfortunately, would not end well. While the club was packed with paying guests, some lowly dirtbag made off with the cashbox and the band received just thirty dollars, which didn’t even cover their gas. “That’s just what it was like back then,” Jimmy says dryly. Again, the reality of being in a band didn’t jive with the expectations they might have had. Things could only improve.

  Both bands played again on Sunday night, and everyone attended a house party near the Misericordia Hospital after the show. Although no bands played, almost every punk rocker in town was present and they were not being particularly quiet. Still, there was nothing unusual about the party, and no one was fighting or causing any serious trouble outside. “Somebody told me that the cops never came to the house,” laughs Ken Chinn. No sooner had those words been spoken when a patrol car rolled up and two officers warned the residents to keep it down. They left but soon returned, and this time they meant business. The punks decided not to cooperate, and an officer rapped on the glass door with a nightstick so hard the window broke. A Dirty Boy named Bill Schuler picked up a stuffed chair and shoved it into the hole, trapping the cop’s arm, still holding the nightstick. After a prolonged battle in which the punks did their best to hold them off, a squad of cops forced their way into the house, arresting and beating everyone they could. Bill Schuler went down in a sea of blue. Even handcuffed he continued to fight, and the cops beat him unconscious before dragging him to a waiting paddy wagon. Now they still had to clear the other guests.

  (Bottom) SNFU pose outside Evan’s garage for a photo shoot in the summer of 1983. (Left to right) Marc Belke, Brent Belke, Jimmy Schmitz, Evan C. Jones, and Ken Chinn. The band shortened their name to SNFU from Society’s NFU after replacing Warren Bidlock with Jimmy Schmit. The members chose nicknames for themselves shortly after that. Marc became “Muc,” Brent was “Bunt,” Ken Chinn was Mr. Chi Pig, Evan became “Tadpole, and poor ol’ Jimmy, after joking that he planned to start a band called “Floyd and the ‘Roids” when he was fat and old, was stuck with the unfortunate moniker of “Roid.” So far, Jimmy has not formed that band. [Dilys Evans]