Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Since SNFU had abandoned their last practice spot so they wouldn’t have to pay rent while on tour, they were rehearsing in the basement of the Red Room House, where Curtis was living with Ted Simm, Andy Rodgers, and others. Urban Holiday still practiced there, but as per custom SNFU had moved in as well. There was not a lot of room in the dingy basement, and rehearsals were very loud. “This was the first time I played with Ted Simm, who beats his drums to death. My ear was right next to his crash cymbal and I almost went deaf,” Curtis remembers, wincing at the memory. He still jammed with his friends in Urban Holiday when he could, but they understood that SNFU was his main priority. “I was moving on, but I still felt bad,” says Curtis, thinking back to that day more than twenty-four years ago. There was no turning back.

  Practice continued with SNFU. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had a lot of people in my corner,” says Creager. “My friends were very proud of me.” And Dave Bacon had been correct, Curtis was right for the job. The band practiced exhaustively throughout April, and were almost up to speed by the end of the month. Instead of practicing until the sound was perfect the way they had with Bacon, they elected to do a show just to let fans know they were still around.

  Although Curtis says that his first show was with Gang Green and the Goo Goo Dolls, that gig didn’t take place until May 11th, 1988. Rather, it seems likely that Curtis’ debut gig was in late April of 1987. One can hypothesize that the band was a bit shaky that night, but the fans were unlikely to complain. With two guitars turned up high and the adrenaline flowing, who would notice that Dave Bacon’s bass was missing? While rumours were circulating that SNFU had lost a member, the fans didn’t seem to mind that they had a new bass player. With his Depeche Mode T-shirt and bushy beard, “Grizzly Buck” Bacon didn’t really fit anyway, even if he was a killer musician.

  In June, the band moved out of the Red Room House basement and into a practice spot the band would keep for more than a year. Located on the second floor of a warehouse, the space was unusual in that the musicians had to pass through the owner’s apartment to reach it. The beer-drinking old guy who owned the place would always say “Ready to give ‘er?” when they went in, and “Got ‘er built?” when they left. “The space was great though—it had a stage and everything,” Marc Belke recalls. The rent was also very cheap. “We gave him a case of beer a month.” Not even a twenty-four pack but a twelve.

  Safely ensconced in the new rehearsal space, the band attempted to put some polish on Curtis’ rudimentary bass skills and bring the band back to a level where they wouldn’t be embarrassed onstage. Curt hadn’t quite mastered “The Ceiling,” but at least he was learning to fake it. If Jimmy Schmitz could do the job then there was no reason why the new guy couldn’t.

  The new bass player more than made up for his undeveloped abilities with his eagerness to be in the band and his (mostly) cheerful disposition. Easygoing and funny, Curtis was one of the boys, and Muc didn’t worry that he would snap suddenly and kill someone. Even though old friend and part-time manager Gubby Szvoboda took a job with Cargo Canada and moved to Montreal, the mood was lighter. Bacon, meanwhile, formed a new group, Loves Laughter, spelled “Loveslaughter.” The name suited him well.

  Creager, who was still a little stiff, rehearsed all summer with SNFU. An offer to support Canadian metal band Voivod in Montreal was more than they could resist, so they added a few more dates along the way just to help defray costs. After a crowded and chaotic show at the Piazza Bar with Broken Smile on August 28th, SNFU hit the road for Saskatoon, Regina, and Winnipeg. Away from home, even fewer people noticed that they had changed bassists, reinforcing the band’s belief that they could switch the rhythm section without serious consequence. This was true to a point, but SNFU had been fortunate that they’d always been able to find the right people. That luck would later run out.

  SNFU reached the Spectrum in Montreal on September 6th and loaded in for soundcheck. Voivod were at the height of their popularity, and both SNFU and the DayGlo Abortions were honoured to be on the bill. Although the majority of the kids were there to see the Montreal metal kings, the punk bands did not go unappreciated. Tickets sold out quickly, and fans jammed the noble old venue, which was torn down in 2007 to make room for a shopping centre. The room buzzed with energy as the crowd waited for SNFU. This show would be off the hook.

  Meanwhile, the musicians had gone their separate ways after soundcheck, agreeing to meet at showtime. Curtis Creager went for supper with his sister Joanne, and was late returning to the venue. When the newest member of SNFU eventually arrived, he was a little unnerved to be handed his instrument and shoved onto the stage without ceremony. The lights came up, and Curtis saw that he was standing in front of 1,200 people. “I was wondering how the hell I got there, but then the band kicked in, and there was no time to be nervous,” he recalls.

  Joanne was dumbstruck but proud to see her little brother playing for such a big crowd. She knew he was in a band, but didn’t realize that people actually paid to see them. The fans even shouted enthusiastically whenever there was a break in the music. Perhaps her little brother had made the right choice by staying in Edmonton.

  Marc may have been pleased with the invite, but he wasn’t happy with the show that night, and remembers being very anxious. “I was starting to freak out when Curtis was late,” the guitarist recalls. Although he declines to say if the band sounded worse without Dave Bacon, Curtis had been with the band less than six months and still needed work. “It wasn’t our best show, but that’s the way it goes,” Muc says philosophically.

  After the gig, Voivod drummer Michel Langevin gave each member of SNFU a T-shirt as a token of their appreciation. Trying to be funny, Chi threw his shirt on the floor in front of Michel, stunning everyone in the room. The drummer was deeply disrespected, and Chi Pig’s fellow bandmates struggled to explain that he had a weird sense of humour and meant no harm. Even after Chi apologized, the atmosphere was tense for a while. “Michel is a good guy, and I’ve never seen him get upset in my life, but he was a bit pissed off that time,” Monk remembers. “He was super offended,” agrees Marc. “There were some repairs that had to be done with that.”

  Instead of carrying on to Detroit after Montreal as they usually did, SNFU stuck around in Southern Ontario, dropping down to Toronto for a gig at Ildikos on September 13th. Despite being early fall, the event turned out to be the hottest show SNFU would ever play. In fact, MuchMusic were unable to film because of the condensation on their lenses. Brent recalls the sweat fest. “Problem Children, who went before us, played naked because it was so hot. When I went to set up my gear, I was soaked with sweat before I even reached the stage. My head was spinning when we played, and after we finished, I ran straight out the door onto the fire escape. Ted was already out there, and he was completely spent. He had to fight through the heat more than any of us did.”

  Leaving Toronto, the boys returned to Montreal for a show at Foufounes Électriques. The gig that night was not the massive event that the Voivod show at The Spectrum had been, but the turnout was respectable enough and the sound was much better. Montreal always treated SNFU well.

  Since they were in town, Muc, Bunt, and Curtis took the opportunity to attend the Expos vs the New York Mets game at the Olympic Stadium, leaving Chi Pig and Ted Simm behind to sulk at the venue until showtime. Other than wrestling, Chi wasn’t a sports fan, and would find other ways to entertain himself.

  Although it didn’t seem financially beneficial to do so, the band moved east towards the coast, stopping in Fredericton, Saint John, and Moncton before finally reaching Halifax for a show at the Carpenter’s Hall on September 18th, 1987. Here, the punk Chi Pig had photographed without permission the year before attacked the singer again, punching him viciously before onlookers could pull him off. Despite the assault, SNFU put on a wild show that night, with Chi lighting a hand puppet on fire and utilizing every prop in his vast arsenal. Much later, the singer recalled the assaults wit
h amusement and seemed to bear his assailant no ill will. Chi Pig has always been able to take a punch.

  SNFU stopped in all the usual places on the way to Edmonton, where Monk took the bus back to Montreal to save money for the band. Along the way, he ended up spending more on food and beer than it would have cost to fly. “I went broke spending money and drinking beer at every little truck stop,” laughs the roadie. Next time he would travel by air.

  After resting briefly, the boys continued to prepare for the long North American tour they were planning for later that year. This jaunt would take them across Canada and down the Eastern Seaboard into the USA again, not to mention several illogical and chaotic forays into the Midwest and Deep South. Johnny Stiff was already booking dates, and the contracts were flying back and forth. Touring was the lifeblood of SNFU—the only real way for a working band to survive.

  Back in Edmonton, negotiations resumed with promoter Chris Williamson of Rock Hotel Records, who had expressed interest in releasing the band’s next album. According to Curtis Creager, SNFU’s relationship with BYO was almost non-existent at this point, leaving the band little choice but to search for a new label. Having released eight albums in 1986 alone, including one by fellow Edmontonians Jr. Gone Wild, BYO may have spread themselves a little too thin. “I dunno if they were too busy with their movie stuff, but they didn’t come out to our LA shows,” claims Creager. “I never saw them once the whole time

  I was in the band.” Gubby Szvoboda disagrees that the Stern brothers were hard to reach, saying that he could always get them on the telephone if he had a concern. BYO, in fact, would soon have plenty of time to answer phones when the death of hardcore put the kibosh on punk records.

  Speaking of hardcore, SNFU was something of an anomaly. The mighty Black Flag folded in ’86, and even the intrepid DOA disbanded in 1990 for several years. Most of the punk pioneers were gone now, leaving the second wave of hardcore bands such as Death Sentence, SNFU, and the DayGlo Abortions to continue the fight alone. A handful of lesser-known bands from the first wave still existed, but most crossed over to speed metal or made other concessions to become more commercially viable. Naturally, those groups were quickly labeled “sell outs.”

  At any rate, Chris Williamson offered to buy brand new gear for the band, as he had done for The Nils, but still the guys were hesitant. This would be their third album, and it would be nice to get more than a couple of amplifiers out of the deal. While not refusing the offer outright, they stalled for time, hoping that something better would come along. Something about Chris Williamson made them uneasy, and they still remembered how he had freaked out when they put Johnny Stiff on their guest list at the Bad Brains show. Did they really want a boss like that? For now they decided to wait.

  At practice, Curtis Creager was learning. Instead of taking the most valuable instruction from Bunt or Muc, Curtis received important lessons from drummer Ted Simm. Since bass is half of the rhythm section, it was in Ted’s best interest to teach Curtis what he could. “Ted knows how to play bass and guitar as well as the drums, and his kick foot is absolutely insane,” Curtis relates. “He got frustrated for sure, but he made me work at stuff.” The new guy did his best to learn, and his friends were happy to have him in the band.

  One afternoon in October, Marc Belke took a trip to Sound Connection to look for new music. There wasn’t a lot of good punk rock coming out these days, but Marc listened to metal as well, so he had hope. After discovering that Metallica had a new release, Marc bought The $5.98 EP: Garage Days Re-Revisited and left the store. His elation at owning a new Metallica record turned to pure joy when he flipped the EP over to study the back cover. A photograph in the top left corner showed Metallica frontman James Hetfield wearing an SNFU T-shirt. For a Metallica fan, it just didn’t get any better. “I could hardly believe my eyes,” Marc recalls. “I immediately drove home to call Gubby.” Record store owner Richard Liukko remembers being there when Ted Simm first saw the back cover. “He just sat there holding the sleeve in total awe,” says Richard.

  In late October, the band flew Monk out from Montreal for a tour that would move across Canada into the States. Although it cost them an airplane ticket, the roadie was worth the money. Monk packed Vanna White so perfectly that every square inch was utilized and no space was wasted. This time, the boys even took nets, shin guards, and hockey sticks along—everything they needed to play street hockey when they had time. Not to be left out, Mr. Chi Pig brought along a red cheerleaders’ outfit and red plastic pompoms, which would soon become part of his stage act. Saying goodbye to roommates, girlfriends, and companions, the musicians rolled out as a cold front moved in. The tour was upon them.

  Moving east, the boys hit all the usual places, crossing into the US from Quebec for a show in Buffalo. Although they could have returned home after playing the initial shows Johnny Stiff arranged, the band urged him to book more. Johnny obliged, but warned that the dates might be scattered, and they were. SNFU crisscrossed the country seemingly at random, like lost gypsies with guitars. At times, the core members considered the life they had chosen and wondered if they would ever move past the club scene to something larger. The band was stuck in a holding pattern, where they made money, but not enough to live in relative comfort. Some nights the promoter would find them places to sleep, but too often they slept in the van. This shit was starting to get old.

  Bookings were again sporadic, and the band hung around NYC, taking whatever shows came along, driving as far as Poughkeepsie or Philadelphia for dates. Although the boys couldn’t see it, they’d fallen into a repetitive pattern much the same way Personality Crisis had, but instead of summering in San Francisco, they were wintering in New York. Having become semi-familiar with the people and the surrounding area, SNFU clung to the security of that scene, taking whatever scraps Johnny Stiff threw their way. While they never truly went hungry, the boys were just barely hanging in. They’d never really thought about it before, but where could they go from here? Suddenly, that almost seemed important.

  Eventually, a string of dates came together and the band left NYC. They broke the routine a little by moving off towards the Midwest instead of heading for Texas. Again, the dates were scattered, which made for a lot of doubling back and forth across the country. Vehicles wore out quickly with such heavy use, and even the sturdy Ford van was not exempt from fatigue. On they went, from city to city, leaving a trail of semi-deafened punk rockers, empty fast food wrappers, and broken guitar strings. Meanwhile, in the corners of their minds, the Belke brothers, and to a lesser extent, Chi Pig, worried about the future. Perhaps the Sex Pistols were right. Maybe there was no future.

  Finally, after dropping Monk in Montreal, SNFU drove across the endless prairies to Edmonton, arriving home in late December. The band had been gone for months again, and their loved ones were almost used to not having them around. The exhausted musicians collapsed at home, too tired to care about anything but a good night’s sleep and some real home-cooked food. A pillow had never felt so good.

  After Christmas, the gang recovered enough for a rowdy homecoming show, and a quick jaunt to Calgary and Vancouver as well. By now, SNFU could make such excursions more easily than most people can arrange a trip to the grocery store, and they didn’t even need Monk to do it. Not that they would have minded his help. The roadie really knew how to pack a van.

  With the rent paid and the band sounding good, SNFU resumed negotiations with Chris Williamson in regards to the next record. The band was tempted to accept the deal and be done with it, but the New York promoter still seemed just a little too slick. Wondering what to do, the band phoned Gubby Szvoboda in Montreal and went over the details of the contract with him. The Nils had recently signed with Rock Hotel Records, so maybe they should just suck it up and take the offer? Gubby, however, took the matter to Randy Boyd, who was no stranger to the story of SNFU. In fact, Randy soon decided that SNFU should be the first band to sign with Cargo Canada. Just like that, the game
had changed.

  “An offer was thrown about by Rock Hotel Records, but Randy Boyd told me that Cargo Canada would better it. We’d known Randy for years, since he started the Suicide Club in Edmonton and ran a record store that carried punk albums. Chris Williamson, as much as his label was supposed to be ‘taking off,’ was rumoured to be somewhat of a dodgy character, while Randy Boyd is the salt of the earth. Randy is the most honest person I’ve ever met in my life, and we knew that with him overseeing the deal, SNFU would be treated fairly. That all changed after Randy left Cargo Canada, but Cargo was the best option for SNFU at the time. I got my job there because of Randy Boyd,” says Gubby Szvoboda.

  As it turned out, the boys dodged a bullet by not signing with Rock Hotel. Other bands on the label had expressed dissatisfaction, but The Nils ran into real trouble when Rock Hotel Records went bankrupt in 1988. According to guitarist Carlos Soria, The Nils were pawns in a war between Chris Williamson and Profile Records, which was the parent company of Rock Hotel Records. Because Chris wouldn’t release The Nils from their contract, they were not only unable to make more albums for Rock Hotel, but they couldn’t record with anyone else either. “Chris was trying to use us as leverage to pry more money from Profile,” says Carlos, still bitter, and rightfully so, after all these years. “We had a killer album produced by Chris Spedding that charted in Rolling Stone, and we didn’t get a fucking thing for it. He even took back the Marshalls he bought us. That dude ruined my fucking life!”

  At any rate, the paperwork took a few months, but the money from Cargo eventually came through. The first thing the band did with the $15,000 advance was make a down payment on a new vehicle. The boys wanted a bigger van; Vanna White was a bit too small, and she also had more than 250,000 kilometres on her. To this end, they leased a Ford Econoline 250 and cut the roof off to add an extended cap. Since the van was brown, they called it “James Brown” after the legendary Godfather of Soul. There was no deep meaning behind the name, and Chi generally blurted out the first words that popped into his mind.