by Chris Walter
Dave strummed a battered acoustic guitar before he even knew the chords. When he was fourteen, he bought an El Degas bass from a “stoner dude” for fifty dollars. He learned to play by jamming with a friend, who also gave him a job as roadie for his “B” circuit rock band. After watching the band for a while, he decided to switch to guitar. “Then I started playing along to DOA and Young Canadians records,” Dave recalls. Like Chi Pig and the Belkes, Dave got into punk rock after hearing the Sex Pistols, who made a big impression on him. Acts such as Joe Jackson, Elvis Costello, and Split Enz no longer held the same appeal for the fledgling musician. The nihilistic fury of punk rock failed to worry his parents, but even that did not diminish his love of it. There were plenty of other people to offend, and cowboys and rednecks angered easily.
The teenager learned a great deal in Saskatoon, working lights and sound for touring punk groups such as, coincidentally, DOA and the Young Canadians. His work with the “B” circuit rock band helped him become a good stagehand, and the time he spent with them was not wasted. Not only was Dave learning how to set up and strip down a stage in the shortest possible time, but he was also interested in every aspect of live music, and soaked up everything he could.
Dave remembers when the Better Youth Organization rolled into Saskatoon on the aptly named Somebody Got Their Head Kicked In tour. “The guys in Social Distortion threw beer on the dance floor and were chicken dancing.” This sort of behaviour didn’t go over well with some of the locals, who felt that the Americans were disrespecting them. “Basically, the gig turned into a massive brawl. I got jumped by five guys, and Monk was supposed to help me but didn’t. The show was crazed, and even Mike Ness got in a fight. It was cool,” laughs Bacon. Somehow, the Yanks managed to finish the show without serious injury and headed out in their school bus bound for Winnipeg. Hopefully, fans in the city of ice and mosquitoes there wouldn’t be quite so sensitive.
Not long afterwards, Blank Generation, who eventually became Dammerung, played Saskatoon, and Dave accompanied them to Winnipeg as their roadie. In August of 1983, when he was eighteen, Dave moved to Edmonton and started Ghost Shirt Society with Dammerung’s ex-drummer. Soon Ghost Shirt Society was playing shows with SNFU, and Dave saw Edmonton’s prodigal sons more times than he could count. After ten or eleven months, Ghost Shirt Society broke up and Dave moved to Vancouver briefly before returning to Edmonton where he began to roadie for SNFU. Because he’d heard the songs so often, Dave knew when something was wrong, and how to correct the problem instantly. “There was so much chaos onstage at Spartan’s that they needed somebody to fix stuff. If Evan lost a cymbal, or if somebody’s guitar came unplugged, I jumped in and set it right,” explains Bacon. He also watched the group carefully, learning the material almost by osmosis. Multi-talented and flexible, he was perfectly poised to join the group should any member drop out. And now that time had come.
As a full-fledged member of SNFU, this was Dave’s moment to shine. He pounded the skins with an enthusiasm and inherent talent that helped make up for his lack of professional training. The band quickly began to teach him the songs, and although Evan’s departure was still a blow, everything seemed to be back on track again. It would take more than the loss of a drummer to stop Edmonton’s foremost hardcore band from conquering the world, or at least small portions of Canada.
But then another bomb fell—one that the boys hadn’t seen coming. At the next band practice, Jimmy Schmitz told his bandmates that he was quitting.” I couldn’t believe that Jimmy was leaving. He kept talking about being on tour and eating clam chowder in Boston,” says Muc. Unemployed and homeless, Jimmy was living from gig to gig, barely finding enough food and beer to survive. SNFU would never be able to pay his rent, so why should he bust his ass hauling gear all over the continent when he could be snuggling up to Cheryl every night? “At that point, I needed a bit of a sanity break,” Jimmy says, sounding somewhat regretful. The band couldn’t rely on Bob Montgomery every time they wanted to tour the USA, and although the upcoming tour sounded exciting, he didn’t want to leave his pals in the lurch if he couldn’t get across the border. Just like that, Jimmy “Roid” was gone.
Ironically, Cheryl and Jimmy broke up within months of him leaving the band. She originally hooked up with Jimmy because he was a member of Edmonton’s coolest band, but now he was just another regular joe with a construction job and no car. Cheryl wanted Jimmy to be home more often, and resented the band, but his membership in SNFU was one of the main things that had attracted her to him in the first place. Cheryl learned that she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too.
SNFU reeled from this latest loss. They had survived one near calamity only to suffer another directly afterwards. Trying hard not to panic, Chi and the Belke brothers held an emergency conference to search for solutions. They ran through a number of scenarios before realizing that it might be easiest to move Dave Bacon to bass and find a new drummer. Dave was a better bassist than he was a percussionist, so why not maximize his potential? Besides, maybe they could find a drummer who would bring something heavy to the table. What was Jon Card doing? The ace drummer had moved back to Calgary when Personality Crisis broke up last year. Although Jon was reportedly playing with the smalls, he might be persuaded to quit. Chi decided to give him a call.
The SNFU frontman still remembers his conversation with the drummer: “I asked Jon if he wanted to join SNFU right away and move to Edmonton, where he could live rent-free at the Nose Dive. I told him that we had a big tour coming up and needed a drummer. He paused for just a brief second, and then said ‘yes.’ He didn’t try to negotiate or stall for time at all.” This was the best possible outcome for SNFU. Not only had the band avoided possible destruction, but their newest member was arguably the best punk drummer in the country.
Off and on over the next three decades, Jon Card would play an important role in SNFU. He is the only member to play with the group in all three periods of their career, and his contribution is significant. Born in Zwiebrueken, Germany on December 11th, 1960, Jon arrived in Canada with his parents when he was just four years old. His father, Lester Card, served with the Radar Division of the Canadian Air Force in Germany at the time of Jon’s birth, but eventually transferred back home to Canada. The Cards bounced around, moving to Holberg on Vancouver Island, and then briefly to Winnipeg before finally settling in the Triwood area of Calgary. His mother Jean became a teacher, and she must have despaired a bit when her youngest boy failed to apply himself to schoolwork.
A self-professed class clown, Jon’s grade eight homeroom teacher moved his desk into the hallway so he wouldn’t disrupt the class. Luckily, rock n’ roll soon stepped in to distract the bored youth. Jon, who comes from a long line of musicians, took piano and oboe lessons, but switched to drums after being fitted with braces that made it impossible for him to play the oboe. Shortly after picking up the sticks, he joined the Calgary Stampede Marching Band and a drummer was born. “Mom was happy that I was playing music but was pissed off that it was the drums,” quips Jon. The fledgling drummer took lessons from Tim Rawlins, the principal percussionist of the Calgary Philharmonic, who wanted the youth to follow him into the orchestra. In grade nine, Jon won the Music Award for the entire school, stunning everyone. No percussionist had ever won the trophy before. Soon he embarked on his first tour, travelling with the marching band to other cities. The hardships he faced on those early trips were nothing in comparison to the difficulties he would suffer as a touring punk musician.
In grade eleven, when Jon was sixteen, he joined a metal band called Stonehenge. Even in those pre-Spinal Tap days, Jon could see the humour in such a name. The youth who led the band came from money, and the basement where they practiced was equipped with a smoke machine, lights, and other high-end gizmos. Jon wanted to write original music, but his bandmates were only interested in playing covers so they could tour the bar circuit. Jon left Stonehenge after only a handful of gigs.
Soon, a youth name
d Al Charlton introduced Jon to punk rock. The new music was much more exciting than anything Top Forty had to offer. He jumped in with both feet and soon his old records were collecting dust. Later that year, Jon forced the rednecks to dance to the Sex Pistols by playing their album during a dance-a-thon at school. “They were pissed right off, but they’d lose if they stopped dancing,” laughs Jon, still pleased with himself for perpetrating the stunt. The drummer is a practical joker and likes nothing better than a good gag, which is one of the reasons he gets along with Chi Pig so well.
Jon grew up in the Calgary punk scene, but moved to Winnipeg to join Personality Crisis in 1981. He would spend four long years with the group, touring back and forth across the prairies in the winter, but spending the summers in the United States. The powerful and innovative band released only one album in its storied career, and broke up without achieving the recognition they deserved, leaving the members exhausted and disillusioned. Having rested up since then, Jon was bored and ready for another kick at the can.
Several days later, the new drummer arrived in Edmonton with his personal possessions stowed in the white Econoline van that Personality Crisis had used on their last tour. The battered vehicle had seen much action, as had its owner. Jon rolled up, tossed his clothes into the Spider Room in the basement of the Nose Dive, and cracked himself a beer. “I had so much spider venom in me after a while that I almost turned into Spiderman,” jokes the drummer, referring to the abundance of arachnids in his new digs. Spiders loved the Nose Dive. Marc, meanwhile, moved out. He barely drank, and the Nose Dive was party town.
Dave Bacon readily surrendered the drum stool to Mr. Card and picked up the bass. In fact, Jon didn’t even know that Dave had once occupied his spot. The band immediately clicked, and it soon became apparent that the new rhythm section was a cut above anything the band had seen previously. Not to disrespect Evan and Jimmy, who had done a fine job on the album, but Jon and Dave were a force unto themselves. “We were in serious awe of Jon being in the band,” Marc Belke recalls. “In terms of skill, Jon and Dave were miles ahead of where Brent and I were at.” SNFU was definitely back in the game.
Even though they practiced almost every day, Dave Bacon was still a little uncertain of his abilities when he played his first show with SNFU on June 11th, not even a month later. “Even though I fully intended to jump around like I figured I should, I was fuckin’ nervous that night and my feet were glued to the floor. I felt like I should be a spaz onstage, not just because of the SNFU schtick, but because I idolized Randy Rampage and Dave Gregg as a kid,” Dave Bacon recalls twenty-six years later. Although the band sounded good that night, the fans may have missed the antics of Jimmy and Evan. Dave wasn’t much fun to watch yet, but wasn’t that the drummer from Personality Crisis behind the skins? Some of those in attendance weren’t even aware that Canada’s premier underground rock outfit had called it quits.
SNFU returned to Dave’s basement to rehearse with an urgency that seemed obsessive even for them. The tour was due to start in less than a month, and they would have to put in some serious work if they wanted to be on top of their game. From the early afternoon to late in the evening, the new SNFU sweated profusely as they rehearsed. “Dave and Jon definitely challenged us,” Chi remembers. “They kicked our asses, and they drove the Belkes to be better guitar players.” SNFU wanted to make a good impression on their first North American tour.
Soon the band felt confident enough to play a music festival in Vancouver, and drove out for a crowded gig at the New York Theatre on July 6th, 1985. “NoMeans-No played the same night, and that’s the first time that we met those guys,” Bunt recalls. “We got along well right from the start.” At one of the shows, Jon Card reconnected with a pretty female named Laurel. This would lead to problems.
The boys returned to Edmonton, and after a last wild show at Spartan’s, they packed the van and rolled out on tour, taking Gubby along as road manager. After a crowded show at HC’s in Calgary, they picked up a friend named Monty and headed for the border. Monty planned to visit friends in LA, and offered to help drive or carry gear. This time, Marc was sure he had no outstanding tickets, and Jimmy Schmitz was not there to jam them up with his pot beef.
The band sailed through the border at Coutts, Alberta, but it helped that they had written down all the serial numbers on their equipment in advance this time. If nothing else, the carnet demonstrated to the customs officials that the musicians were not rookies out for a Sunday drive. “I’m not sure if they let us cross because of that, but it seemed to help,” Marc recalls. The musicians explained away the gear by saying they were recording in the States, even providing a fake contract. After only a cursory examination of the vehicle and its unusual looking passengers, the band finally entered the USA.
Rather than drive west towards the coast, SNFU took the shortest possible route to San Francisco, making the 2,700-kilometre trip in just over twenty-four hours. Dave drove most of the way, but Monty also put in some long hours. At one point, as they crossed the Utah desert, Dave Bacon glanced over and saw Monty steering the van with his knees as he rolled a joint. Even worse, Monty had smuggled the weed into the USA, thus jeopardizing the entire tour. “That’s the part that really freaked me out,” Dave recounts, still shaking his head at the memory. The bass player may have been outraged, but the damage was done and there was no point in letting Monty get high alone. Even though it could have scuttled the tour, the weed made the desert crossing far more interesting.
Eventually, Brent or Marc took over while Dave and Monty slept, making it possible to stop only for gas and food. “I sort of got along with Dave, but I was always a bit intimidated by him,” says Marc Belke. “He was a big guy, and he’d have these fits of anger. Then he’d have this gentle, mellow side.” Interpersonal relationships were important because the musicians spent so much time in close proximity. They couldn’t afford hotels, and couldn’t get away from each other for long. Leaving home, the boys had only $200 between them and no credit cards. If they didn’t make money they would be in trouble.
SNFU reached San Francisco, where they stayed at Jello Biafra’s house. Jello was surprised to see Jon Card, whom he knew from Personality Crisis, and the two did some catching up. The DKs’ singer had already warned SNFU about their album cover, and he soon brought up the matter again. Jello claimed that Diane’s daughter, Doon Arbus, who managed her mother’s estate after the controversial photographer committed suicide in 1971, was very protective, and had been known to take legal action against anyone who dared trespass even slightly. In 1982, a band known as the Sex Gang Children (later known as Culture Club) had been forced by the Arbus estate to remove LPs from stores for illegally using one of Diane’s photographs.
This was sobering news for SNFU, who naïvely assumed they could steal what-ever they wanted without consequence. After all, no one had come after them for the zombie head image, so why should this be any different? “I don’t know what we were thinking,” laughs Marc Belke. “We just stole the photo outright from a library book of famous photographs, and that’s how we ended up having so many different covers for our first album.” Shawn and Mark Stern, who’d neglected to ask SNFU if they had permission to use the photo, weren’t going to be happy.
The conversation turned to other matters. Jello Biafra was a gracious host, even if he did love the sound of his own voice. Marc Belke remembers the band sitting around the table in Jello’s kitchen as the singer waxed poetic on every subject under the sun. “After a while, people started to drift off and fall asleep,” laughs Muc. “We were exhausted from the long drive, but Jello never stopped or even slowed down. Only a couple of us were still awake when he finally said goodnight and went to bed.” Lengthy monologues aside, the boys were awed to be Jello’s guests, and the circumstances seemed more than a tad surreal. Were they really staying with the frontman for the Dead Kennedys?
The boys did a show in San Francisco the next day at the famously dumpy Mabuhay Gardens.
SNFU played well to favourable response, and the female promoter got into a scrap after the show, inspiring Jon Card to comment, “It was a good night for her. She made fifty bucks and won a fight.” By now SNFU was already playing four or five songs that would appear on their second album, If You Swear You’ll Catch No Fish. Exact dates for the tour are sketchy, and posters are scarce. The fact that no one was injured and the band didn’t get ripped off means that the gig was fairly uneventful.
The boys said adios to San Francisco and hit the road for LA that night, happy to be underway finally. The thought of playing fifty-five shows in seventy-seven days was very exciting. Real bands toured, and SNFU planned to spend a great deal of time on the road. Never mind that many of the dates weren’t booked yet.
One of the difficulties SNFU faced was a lack of merchandise. While they had printed as many shirts as they could on a meagre budget, those items were soon gone, denying the band an important source of revenue. Not just that, but the number of albums they would receive from BYO was also limited. While the band would bring several boxes along, the supply would definitely not last beyond ten shows or so. Hopefully they would earn enough to keep the vehicle gassed up, with enough leftover for bologna sandwiches and soda pop.
The band moved on, reaching Los Angeles before dark. Dave was a tireless driver, making his contribution to the band that much more valuable. Without Otto and Jimmy to do the driving, SNFU now relied largely on Dave, although Brent and Marc also took turns behind the wheel. Jon drove occasionally, but mostly he sat smoking cigarettes in the passenger seat cracking jokes. The thirsty percussionist soon earned the nickname Jonny “Band Cash” for suggesting that they use band money for various things, most of them beer-related. “He wanted to put a La-Z-Boy in the van with band money,” recalls Brent. Jon lived for the moment and didn’t care about returning home with money.