Snfu

by Chris Walter

  The boys had fully recovered from the tour fiasco by the time Thrasher asked them to contribute a song for a skate rock compilation. Rising ably to the occasion, SNFU recorded the bonafide monster “Time to Buy a Futon” at Power Zone Studios. The potent song helped open the large US market for SNFU and draw more people to their shows. In 1988, the band would also contribute “Appraise the Lord” for another volume on the same label. It’s hard to say how much these compilations helped SNFU, but they certainly didn’t hurt any.

  Feeling better about the band in general, SNFU entered another inspired period, and the songs that would appear on the next album materialized almost without effort. Not only were the creative juices flowing, but the songwriting had also taken on a depth that was previously impossible. Not to detract from the effective but simple work of Evan C. Jones and Jimmy Schmitz, but the rhythm section of Jon Card and Dave Bacon gave the group an increased flexibility.

  Although the new songs were still fast and furious punk rock, they were not quite as basic. Since SNFU still hadn’t chosen a producer or studio, they opted to go with David Mockford and Power Zone Studios again. “It would have been a gamble to make our second album with a stranger, so it made sense to pick David,” recalls Brent. The man may not have been the most experienced producer around, but he understood where SNFU was coming from, and he knew what they wanted. All he had to do was capture that energy on vinyl.

  Finally, in April of 1986, SNFU entered the studio to cut the new album. The band was tighter than ever from endless rehearsal, and they had enough songs for a complete album. Brent, who was holding down a government job sorting out pension accounts, remembers trying to juggle his schedule to make time for the studio. Punk rock was not paying the bills, which meant he had to rely on conventional methods of survival.

  SNFU set a pace that was speedy even for them, recording all the bed tracks in just one long day. Jon Card departed for Vancouver immediately afterwards to be with his future wife, leaving the band without a drummer again. “Shit started going bad just as soon as I got there,” says Jon, shaking his head sadly. “Never leave a band for a woman. But at least I got a great kid out of it.” Later, Jon would notice a single drum beat missing from the finished album, making him wish he’d stuck around for the mixing. He soon joined DOA, so things managed to work out for him anyway. Good drummers were always in short supply.

  Back in the laboratory, mixing continued on the yet-to-be-named album. The liner notes on the back cover state that the LP was “casually mixed by David Mockford and Ken Chinn,” which warns listeners that it was recorded and mixed by relative novices. “I could tell that David [Mockford] was a bit nervous, and I could see his hands shaking a bit on the mixing board,” remembers Ken Chinn, who wasn’t as worried because it was his album. Burning the midnight oil, Mockford laboured, even after Grizzly Buck Bacon had gone home. “I remember David staying super late and doing all kinds of studio wizardry,” says Brent. “We’d come in the next morning and be amazed at the things he’d done. Overall, I was happy with the album and the production.”

  The effects on “Scarecrow” involved an intro of chirping birds, and a beer bottle dropped on the strings of a piano. Brent found most of the sound effects on an album of Halloween noises he’d borrowed from the public library. “Scarecrow” also included hand-claps from a Yamaha RX drum machine, and recurring acid-style lead guitar work from the Belke brothers.

  David Mockford suspects that “Scarecrow” is the song that Jon Card claims is missing a single cymbal beat from the final mix. “It sounds a bit odd at the beginning,” remarks the producer.

  Chi Pig has fans eating out of his hand at the Spartan Men’s Club circa 1985. The band ruled the remote venue for several long years, headlining shows that will live on in the hearts and minds of all those who attended. The hall was torn down in September of 1985 for the usual bogus reasons. Ironically, SNFU didn’t even play the final show, having recently returned home from tour. [Paul Balanchuk]

  In any case, Jon’s ear for detail is nothing less than remarkable, and it is unlikely that anyone but him ever noticed the tiny flaw.

  On “Black Cloud,” David and Ken doubled most of the lead vocal tracks, and were pleased with the results. The song “He’s Not Getting Older, He’s Getting Bitter” features what Mockford enigmatically refers to as a “Marshall Time Modulator Phase Shift Extravaganza.” David employed a fair amount of studio wizardry on the album, but feels he might go a bit lighter on the effects if he were to do it over again. Nevertheless, those little flourishes also gave the album an extra bit of sparkle and individuality.

  In at least four places, anyone listening closely might notice that Muc and Bunt had some fun with the guitars, and the leads are merely “Mary Had a Little Lamb” played quickly or backwards. On one song, Dave Bacon asked if he should keep it simple, or if he should try something fancier. Brent encouraged him to go for the gusto, which led to some fairly complex passages on “The Ceiling,” especially the intro. “Man, that was a tight rhythm section,” Brent Belke says reverently.

  Dave Bacon composed the music for “The Devil’s Voice,” the first track on the album. He also wrote music for “Where’s My Legs,” and helped arrange other tracks. The bass line for “The Ceiling,” was so intricate that successors rarely duplicated it faithfully. David Mockford was impressed at the musicality of that track in particular, and the album in general. “Dave fuckin’ Bacon rocks it, and Jon, Brent and Marc are right there, hardcore,” comments the producer. “The Ceiling” would make appearances on SNFU’s set list over the years, depending on the current bassist’s ability to play it.

  If Bacon set the bar high, then Chi Pig was also at his sardonic best, and songs such as “Mind Like a Door” were examples of his ever-increasing usage of metaphors, and double, or even triple meanings. Some of his lyrics on the new album foreshadowed issues he would encounter later on—problems that had yet to manifest themselves fully. On “My Humble Life of Disarray,” Marc, Brent, Dave, and Jon all take turns singing lines of verse, and Ken sings the chorus alone:

  Seeing Sunday morning through bloodied eyes

  I feel so dead, yet I’m so alive.

  And the aftertaste of alcohol makes me want more

  As I peel my face off the kitchen floor.

  While Ken’s lyrics could be political when he was sufficiently motivated, they were often of a personal nature, or even about people close to him. For example, Ken put lyrics to a song Jon Card wrote, which he called “Snapping Turtle.” The song was about his roommate Curtis Creager, who hated mornings. “Curt could be a real grouch,” Ken laughs. “He was not too happy when he first woke up!”

  Chew upon you like a snapping turtle when I do bite

  So much harshness in these morning words.

  I’ve said, if I want any shit out of you, man,

  I’ll squeeze your fucking head.

  Chi’s vocals were ragged by the time they recorded “Snapping Turtle,” which is the last song on the album. “You can hear his voice is fucked, his brain is fucked, but we used the track anyway,” says Mockford. “Ken is still living it, the fucker.”

  In a week or so, the last touches were complete and the album was finished. Although he was generally satisfied with the album, Marc wishes he could have spent more time in the studio, but, unlike Bunt, he had to work at night. Marc also feels that Dave Mockford had plenty of respect for Jon and Dave Bacon, but not so much for him. Nonetheless, Chi feels that Mockford did a good job. “That record had a lot of different elements on it that weren’t present on the first,” says the singer. David Mockford was also happy enough, but the producer hesitates when asked if he was perfectly content with the album. “The songs were great, but I’d love another kick at it. The short answer is that I’m very rarely satisfied.” Minor gripes aside, the record was a considerable achievement, even if it wasn’t perfect. Masterpieces rarely are.

  One night, Chi was contemplating a poster he made for a s
how at Spartan’s. There was a blank space on the upper left corner, a hole that clearly needed to be filled. The singer cracked open a fortune cookie from the Double Greasy AKA Double Greeting Wonton House and studied the slip of paper within. Then, with a dab of glue, he affixed the fortune, which read, “If you swear you’ll catch no fish,” to the poster. “My sister still has that poster,” the singer remembers. He had not only found a name for the new album, but all SNFU titles from now on would contain exactly seven words. Contrary to popular belief, the singer didn’t plan this from the start, and the first two titles were simply flukes.

  By now, the master tape had gone to the pressing plant in Mississauga, where the band would pick up the finished product in a few long months. Summer was approaching, and the band would soon hit the road for their longest tour to date. They still needed a new drummer, however, and the mere thought of trying to replace Jon Card gave them nightmares.

  Sleeping On Floors From Coast to Coast

  The summer of ‘86 arrived, and it was a scorcher. Drunks wilted in the heat, and punk rockers suffered in black leather jackets. Pining over the loss of Jon Card, SNFU contemplated the problem of finding another percussionist. Despite this difficulty, there was no question that the band would carry on. With their second album due to be released in September, the guys had no alternative but to get back on that horse, and the sooner the better.

  The search continued for a percussionist. There were several good drummers around town but, for one reason or another, none of them seemed right. They followed various leads without success. “We asked Doug Donut from Death Sentence, but he didn’t want to move to Edmonton,” Brent remembers. They were still rehearsing at Dave Bacon’s house, but he didn’t have a suitable roommate they could pressgang into the band. Still, the boys weren’t about to panic, especially when someone mentioned Ted Simm. The man had drummed for Last Gasp, and they knew he could play. Sure, he lived in Winnipeg, but Jon had been willing to move from Calgary, so maybe Ted could also relocate?

  A quick phone call confirmed that Ted would. Last Gasp had broken up some time ago, and there was nothing to keep him in Winnipeg. The drummer tidied up his affairs in short order and jumped on a Greyhound bound for Edmonton. Not only was Ted enthusiastic about joining SNFU, but winter was coming and he liked the idea of touring the USA, where it was warmer.

  Arriving in town, eighteen year old Ted Simm took Jon’s place at the Nose Dive, and the band immediately got to work. Both of Ted’s older brothers were from old school punk bands, and the young drummer had been attending shows since he was eleven. In fact, Ted helped form Last Gasp when he was just fourteen years old, making him one of the youngest punks in the original hardcore punk scene. His brother Norm Simm sang for The Unwanted, which disbanded in 1985 before reforming in the 2000s, and his oldest brother Jim Simm had played bass for seminal punk band The Nostrils. With a lofty pedigree like that, Ted would have to drum for a new country band in order to rebel. It was easier (and more fun) just to join his brothers.

  Ted, who liked to party, found a kindred spirit in Dave Bacon. The two smoked pot and gobbled acid in quantity, always up for a good buzz. Although the bassist and drummer loved nothing better than to play while high, the soft drugs had no discernible effect on their performance. The pair could smoke an enormous joint of black hash and lay down the rhythm without making a single mistake. SNFU was an equal opportunity band and tolerated stoners, even if Gubby would have preferred them to drink tea instead of beer. Of course, as card-carrying members of the punk tribe, Ted and Dave could do as they pleased, and anyone who didn’t like it could get fucked straight away.

  The new guy had a style that was vastly different from that of the previous drummer. While Jon Card employed an unembellished but flawless rock steady beat, Ted was a metal fan and his work reflected that love. He was all over the place, beating the skins with a passionate fury, not unlike Animal of The Muppets fame. “Ted was great, but we had to rein him in a bit for the sake of continuity. He was a full-fledged metalhead, listening to Maiden and all that,” says Dave Bacon. Brent Belke agrees. “Ted would always go for the wicked fill. It had to be wicked!” The young drummer was plenty talented, and if they could keep him from flying off the rails like a runaway train, then all would be fine.

  As usual, SNFU rehearsed with a dedication that made other bands look like slackards. Brent’s government job was over now, and he worked off and on in food services at the Edmonton General Hospital. Marc held a variety of odd jobs, but Ken, Ted, and Dave collected welfare, surviving on breadcrumbs between shows. Since they were breaking in a new drummer, there was no income, and no income meant that most of the band was without a pot to piss in. Still, the musicians were not subject to the same constraints as other welfare recipients, even if they weren’t exactly rock stars. “SNFU weren’t leaders or icons; they were a level of inspiration to us all—far more important than mere ‘rock gods’ could ever be,” imparts SNFU fan Dave Dutton-Fraser. Rock gods or inspirational figures, their status allowed them to cop a few beers and a free meal once in a while.

  By August, SNFU was ready to play. The album wasn’t due until September, but unforeseen delays were making even that distant release date seem optimistic. To the impatient bandmembers, the last record was a million years old already, and they couldn’t wait for fans to hear the new songs. At least subconsciously they must have also worried a little that perhaps fans would forget about them if they didn’t get a new record out soon. Their popularity seemed tenuous, no more substantial than the pot smoke that leaked from Dave Bacon’s mouth. Why did it take so damn long just to press a few albums and print a few covers? If they had a record pressing machine they could do it themselves. Ted’s debut would not be in Edmonton, but in Los Angeles. Goldenvoice, the American punk promoters, had arranged for SNFU to fly to California for a quick series of gigs. Since they had no working visas the boys left all their equipment at home. Earlier, Muc and Bunt had fantasized about flying to LA for a show, but the reality wasn’t quite as they had envisioned it. The show at Fender’s Ballroom in Long Beach opening for the Circle Jerks was a warzone, with the Suicidal Tendencies gang fighting skinheads from Huntington Beach. “The place was a battlefield,” recalls Brent Belke. No wonder the original bands were hanging it up.

  Real violence was something SNFU had to deal with mostly when they were in the USA. Canadian hardcore was also getting nasty, but at least shows weren’t open gang warfare. “We’d stop playing if there was a big fight, but that wasn’t really possible at American shows,” explains Brent. On this occasion, the band also had to make do with unfamiliar gear. Unable to bring even their guitars for fear of attracting unwanted attention from customs officials, the boys arrived in LA without so much as a drumstick. The backline they borrowed for the show was adequate, but guitars are personal, and the musicians felt off kilter without their instruments. “We couldn’t nail our sound, and we didn’t play all that well,” Brent says disappointedly. Not that the brawling guests would have noticed.

  In San Diego, SNFU and the Adolescents played the Jackie Robinson Family WMCA, which was simply a massive, windowless gymnasium with no air conditioning. “There were at least six hundred kids in there, and the temperature was about six thousand degrees,” says Brent Belke, remembering the gallons of sweat he lost during the show. Ted Simm fared even worse, and the fan pointed at the drummer did little to help. “Ted was just dying. He was on the verge of heat stroke. That was probably the second hottest show we ever played,” reflects Bunt. An upcoming show in Toronto would be even steamier.

  Back in Edmonton the next weekend, SNFU did a show at the Eastwood Community Hall with Cadillac of Worms and Wages of Sin. The PA was garbage, and the sound less-than-stellar, but the band played well, even if Marc’s pleas for more vocals in the monitors were futile. The fans, of course, were as happy as could be. Some of them noticed that Jon Card was gone, and they wondered how the new drummer could hit as hard as he did, given his slight
stature. He may have been a midget standing next to Dave Bacon, but seated behind the drums Ted Simm was a giant. Most SNFU fans these days were fairly new and didn’t recognize Ted from Last Gasp. A good number of the original fans were married now, climbing corporate ladders or working in the oil fields. Luckily, a handful of diehards were still present, elbows and heels swinging to show the younger punks how it was done.

  SNFU did another show at the Edmonton Ski Club two weeks later. Again, the sound left much to be desired, and the lack of decent venues continued to be a problem. The closure of Spartan’s left a hole in the Edmonton scene that never really healed. No other venues provided the freedom that Spartan’s allowed. No underage punks barfing on their Docs, no young lovers humping in the field next door. Instead, new punks had to tolerate archaic liquor laws and nasty bouncers, just like the punks everywhere else. The management at the Ambo may have been sympathetic to the cause, but they were bound by strict laws.

  Somewhere around this time, the iconic SNFU logo with the skeletal fishes inside the letters “SNFU” came into existence when Chi Pig found a thermometer emblazoned with the fish image. “Ken showed me the thermometer and he was excited by the design,” Brent remembers. Just as the Belkes cloned the zombie drawing, the fish logo also became an iconic piece of SNFU imagery.

  The members of SNFU had more to think about than the shortage of local venues. Unexpected delays at the plant continued to hold up production of the new album, and the chances of If You Swear You’ll Catch No Fish being released on schedule were becoming increasingly remote. Meanwhile, communication between band and record label was not what it could have been, and plans for the support tour were progressing slowly. Very little seemed to be happening, and the fellows were becoming impatient.

  As the summer of 1986 began to wane, SNFU went into the studio to re-record the song “She’s Not on the Menu (dunce mix),” which they planned to release independently. Instead of sounding like straight-forward punk rock, the track has a funky vibe to it. “Bacon was all over that,” Bunt recalls. More than anything, the band just wanted to let fans know they were still active. The boys had been playing all three songs on the single for years, but although Dave Bacon and Ted Simm performed on the title track, the songs on the B-side, “Life of a Bag Lady” and “This is the End” were leftover from the 1982 West Watch recording. The EP itself was limited to 500 coloured vinyl copies with a four-colour silk-screened cover. Although the release wouldn’t be widely available, at least they had something other than T-shirts to put on the merch table. Cargo Canada helped distribute the EP, and Randy Boyd was impressed at how well it sold. Randy was the head of the newly-formed label, and would soon be very helpful to SNFU.