Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Slowly SNFU migrated across the Midwest, stopping in all the usual places. Crowds were reasonably good, and the band occasionally received the six meals on their rider. However, bowls of M&Ms with the brown ones removed would not be forthcoming, and the boys were happy if they got a few stale sandwiches and a six-pack or two. Rock n’ roll—it’s a hard life.

  In Boston, SNFU met up with Broken Smile, which consisted of Andy Rodgers, Entirely Distorted drummer Dave Rees, guitarist Brian Kassian, and Quebecois Stephane Hamel on bass. The band would join SNFU for the eastern leg of the tour, even if there was little financial incentive. “There was no glory in opening for SNFU,” Monk reflects dryly. “If SNFU got $400, there might be $75 for Broken Smile, and that had to cover all their expenses, including gasoline.”

  At this point, Broken Smile was more of a proto-grunge band than a punk outfit. “We had lots of really long songs and a low, Melvins-ish sound,” says Dave Rees. “That tour was a lot of fun because we were really meeting people. We were screening shirts in the back of our van. It was raw.” Fortunately, SNFU fans weren’t as discriminatory as punk fans once were, and seemed to enjoy what Broken Smile was doing. Although Broken Smile would essentially be picking up whatever scraps fell to the floor, Andy was a close friend and SNFU would not have abandoned them if disaster struck. In fact, when the transmission fell out of Broken Smiles’ van, the bands passed the hat to cover repairs. When it wasn’t enough, SNFU made up the discrepancy.

  Although SNFU may not have been getting rich, they weren’t living as close to the bone as they once had. As a standard rule, the band kept $10,000 in the bank at all times. That way, if the van died, or if some other calamity struck, they would have a few bucks to help cushion the blow. The boys had been listening carefully when Jon Card told them how Personality Crisis survived long months on the road, subsisting mostly on bologna-and-potato-chip sandwiches. The SNFUers didn’t want to coast along on fumes, wondering if the van would run out of fuel before they could find more gas money. At the end of the tour, everything over $10,000 would be split six ways, with Monk getting an equal share of the pot as always. Monk alone earned more money than Broken Smile did.

  SNFU and Broken Smile were pressed for time in Boston. Johnny Stiff had booked not one but three shows that day, each in different towns. While the plan may have looked good on paper, the bands were only able to make the gig in Boston, and a second at the Anthrax Club in neighbouring Connecticut. As much as they would have liked to play the last date, it was physically impossible to be in two places at the same time. Dave Rees remembers jealously that Stephane Hamel, their handsome Quebecois bassist, went home with two girls that night. Truly, it was a day of doubles, or at least it was for Stephane.

  Pushing on, the band spent a few restless days with Johnny Stiff in a tough section of Brooklyn. “The neighbourhood looked like a war zone, and all these very sketchy-looking people were checking us out,” remembers Marc. Dave Rees says that he wanted to step out for a pack of smokes at the corner bodega, but Johnny wouldn’t let him go alone. In the end, the boys escaped Brooklyn unscathed, with all their body parts still attached. “I think Johnny was having a little fun with us. He didn’t seem scared,” adds Muc.

  That night, the boys did a show at CBGB that failed to move the jaded patrons. New York crowds were notoriously hard to impress, and unless Joey Ramone was going to get up to sing with SNFU, nobody gave a shit about them.

  The scene across the Hudson River at City Gardens in Hoboken was another matter entirely, and dates there were almost enough to heal the pain. “Shows in Hoboken were great, but maybe we didn’t have the right promoter, because we never got any good shows in New York City,” says Monk. “We had a lot of great shows at City Gardens,” Brent recalls. That night, Monk stole a set of keys from someone in Broken Smile, who foolishly left them on the merch table. Fortunately, each member of the band had a set of keys, so they didn’t have to hotwire the vehicle on that occasion. Over the course of the tour, Monk continued to steal keys from Broken Smile until they only had one set left. Unaware that they had been targeted by a prankster, the clueless victims hung onto the last set for dear life, never letting them out of sight. “They weren’t smart enough to get more keys cut,” laughs Monk.

  Dave Rees remembers arriving exhausted in Washington, DC for a show at the 9:30 Club, a famous venue from the Minor Threat days. The drummer realized that his sticks were in bad shape, and that he desperately needed more. Amazingly, Dave Grohl phoned the club at soundcheck to ask Dave if he needed anything from the drum shop. “Dave brought me sticks for that show. An awesome guy, and a fucking awesome show.” Dave Grohl was in Scream at the time, but would later go on to Nirvana and Foo Fighters fame.

  As usual, the dates were scattered around the Eastern Seaboard in no logical pattern, and the bands had to drive all the way back to Detroit for the next gig. Fans in Motor City were always appreciative and noisy, so it was worth the long trip. That night, Broken Smile drummer Dave Rees watched Ted Simm thoughtfully, wondering if he could ever play like that. With enough practice he thought he might be able to pull it off. The young drummer had no way of knowing that he would eventually be sitting where Ted was now.

  Across and around, around and over, the tour continued. The boys were in Buffalo on June 8th, and at Maxwell’s in Trenton on June 11th. The Cardinals lost to the Expos in St. Louis on June 15th, and the gang was in Minnesota for another game four days after that. “I’d never seen so much baseball in my life,” declares Creager. In Minneapolis, Broken Smile and SNFU stayed with the Babes In Toyland, who graciously did what they could to accommodate the large group of musicians and at least one roadie. Without a helping hand from members of the underground community, bands like SNFU would never have survived. After another dizzying round of shows and baseball games, SNFU and Broken Smile finally crossed back into Canada for a gig in Toronto on July 1st with Sons of Ishmael and Blibber and the Rat Crushers.

  Prolonging the madness, the bands returned to New York for yet another long string of dates. Ted had a criminal record for some minor beef, so the band sent him across with a carful of Americans who had been at the show the previous night. Ted and another passenger pretended to be asleep in the back seat, and the border guard waved them across without bothering to disturb them. If only all crossings could go as smoothly.

  The gang travelled all over the USA again, returning to Canada a month later for shows in Quebec City and Montreal, where they finally parted ways with Broken Smile and Monk. Back in Montreal, the evil roadie returned the stolen van keys to Broken Smile, and the guys finally realized they’d been pranked. Chi Pig, of course, loved it. No one appreciated a practical joke more than he did.

  Summer was dying when SNFU hit Toronto for a show at the Silver Dollar with Vale of Tears from Kentucky. The show went well, but the gas tank was, figuratively speaking, almost empty, and they still had a long way to go. By now, the guys had been on tour for so long that they barely remembered what it was like to relax on the couch with a beer. Finally, after almost four months on the road, the band meandered slowly across the prairies towards Edmonton. They eventually arrived back where they started, flush with cash, but burnt out and exhausted. Where, they wondered, could they go from here?

  In Every Ending the Beginning Lies Hidden

  At home in Edmonton, the Belkes were at a crossroads. They wanted to do some-thing new, but couldn’t agree whether or not to dissolve SNFU completely or simply take an extended hiatus. They decided to hold a band meeting in order to make a decision, but Ken claims that no one phoned him. Brent insists that they invited the singer to at least two meetings, and when he failed to show, the band-members drove to his house. The conversation didn’t go well and ultimately ended with Marc and Brent folding the band.

  Ken claims the others had already decided collectively that he was an asshole and that they were terminating SNFU whether he liked it or not. He countered by proposing that they take a break before recordi
ng the next album. Brent wanted to tour the West Coast one last time but, annoyed at Ken’s increased estrangement from the group, Marc nixed the idea. “I regret the way I handled the breakup, and I wish we’d never broken up at all,” says Marc, older and wiser. “We didn’t have to dissolve SNFU to start another band. Lots of musicians have several projects. We didn’t fully realize what we’d accomplished with SNFU up to that point.” But it was done, and SNFU was no more.

  Musician Ford Pier, who was living with Chi Pig at the time, clearly remembers how the breakup affected the singer. “One evening I came home from band practice to find Ken sitting in the living room with Kevin Turtlehead (AKA Kevin Person), drinking king cans of Molson Canadian. At the time he didn’t drink at all, except on his birthday and New Year’s, and Kevin hardly ever came by, so it was an unusual tableau. It was also weird that they were listening to that yellow record by Stalag 13. Why would anybody do that?” Chi explained that the “biggest bomb” of his life had dropped that day, and that his fellow band- mates had been by that afternoon to tell him they wanted to try something else. Although Ford doesn’t recall the exact conversation, he remembers that the singer was in shock. “Ken seemed totally different than I’d ever seen him before. It wasn’t even that he was sad—he just seemed rudderless.” Kevin Person feels that the singer was still in denial. “Chi has never been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he was definitely upset.”

  Nevertheless, there was no way that SNFU was going to fold without saying goodbye. Even groups that had no intention of breaking up occasionally held “final” shows to attract more guests. This time, sadly, the breakup was no hoax. The farewell shows didn’t happen immediately, and almost a month passed before SNFU dusted off the amplifiers and loaded up James Brown to give the fans one last blast. Despite the bitterness surrounding the breakup, the members were surprisingly civil toward each other, and no fistfights occurred onstage during those final dates. Perhaps, as Kevin Person and Ford Pier suggest, the reality had yet to sink in for Chi Pig, and possibly for the other members as well.

  On Thursday, September 28th, 1989, SNFU appeared at Crackerjacks, and Dave Bacon joined the band onstage for a mind-shattering rendition of “The Ceiling.” Although the small, emotional show was meant especially for close friends and associates of the band, a number of regular fans attended as well. The next night, the boys did a much larger all-ages show at the Polish Hall, which was recorded on tape for posterity. Although the band thought they had enough merch for the entire weekend, they sold every last piece that night. The day after that, on Saturday, September 30th, the band drove to Calgary for SNFU’s “last” show. Except for the complete lack of merchandise, the crowd would not be disappointed.

  That night at Skate Jungle, Chi Pig employed several stage props procured especially for the event. The frenzied frontman tossed inflatable sharks into the crowd, dumped puffed wheat on their heads, and danced wildly in his little red plastic cheerleader outfit as the band powered from one crowd pleaser to the next. Playing as if Satan had bestowed them with special powers beyond mortal ken, the Belkes riffed through such hits as “The Devil’s Voice,” “Time to Buy a Futon,” and “Victims of The Womanizer,” before finally encoring with extended versions of “Cannibal Café” and “She’s Not on the Menu.” The kids sang at the tops of their lungs and wept with drunken nostalgia. SNFU went out on a high note, even if some fans still suspected that the breakup was merely an elaborate publicity stunt. As exhausted as the guys were, and as tiring as the grind had become, the end didn’t seem quite real.

  Not long afterwards, Ted Simm packed his drum kit into the second-hand Volare station wagon he’d bought with money earned on tour and returned to Winnipeg, where other bands were sure to need a first-rate drummer. Monk decided to give up touring with the demise of SNFU, taking a night job with Foufounes Électriques as a fixer-of-things and general stage manager. For now, the ex-roadie was content to stay in Montreal, doing more than his share of partying, yet somehow managing to keep it together. The rock n’ roll lifestyle is hard on the mucus membranes.

  The Belke boys did not plan to lie down and die just because SNFU was gone. Although they accepted that they would have to work at regular day jobs for a while, they were excited about starting a new band that might be able to reach a wider audience. Not only was punk dead these days, but Chi Pig was too much of a freak to gain mainstream popularity, and MuchMusic wanted little to do with him. By applying the lessons they had already learned to a band with a slightly more commercial approach, the Belkes hoped to make a fresh start. If they could accomplish so much with a hardcore punk band, then they might do even better with a melodic rock outfit. Could success be so far out of reach?

  The brothers lived only a few blocks apart from each other on 111th Street, so it was easy for Brent to walk over to jam with Marc on acoustic guitars. They started with MC5 covers and other old classics just to warm up. Soon they were writing original material, using ideas that hadn’t seemed right for SNFU. The pair still needed a rhythm section before they could start rehearsing for real, so they looked around but were unable to find anyone suitable. Then Marc had an idea. He wasn’t sure if it would fly, but there was no harm in trying, so he picked up the phone and called Dave Rees in Montreal. Maybe he could be persuaded to drop what he was doing and move to Edmonton.

  The Belkes had known the drummer for many years, and had toured with him when he was with Broken Smile. Born in Seattle, Washington on June 15th, 1969, Dave Rees was only three months old when his dad took a job teaching English Literature at the University of Alberta and moved the fam ily to Edmonton. “The Canadian dollar was much stronger back then, so the money was good,” says Dave. Although his father turned down a job in Hawaii in favour of the Edmonton position, Dave is not unhappy at the way things turned out. “Fate brought me to Edmonton, so I can’t complain about it now,” says the drummer. Call it destiny.

  While Dave did not come from a long line of musicians, his father was a fan of The Who, and the youth was hugely impressed by maniac drummer Keith Moon. “My father was into rock opera stuff, and was always playing music. I grew up listening to the current rock bands,” Dave remembers. Punk rock was also grabbing headlines around the world, and Dave’s sister Liz loved the new music. “Liz had the best records, and she completely influenced me at a really young age,” says Dave. “I was just a little kid listening to the Sex Pistols.” The Moody Blues weren’t quite on the same page as the Clash, but music was very important in the Rees household.

  In elementary school, Dave volunteered to play drums in the school concert band. When the teacher asked if he had any experience, Dave told them he was taking drum lessons after school. Impressed, the teacher gave Dave the position. The youth then went home and told his parents that he needed drum lessons because he was now the percussionist in the school band. Neatly, and with little effort, Dave had tricked both his parents and his teacher into giving him what he wanted. “I didn’t want to play the clarinet, so I pulled the old reverse gambit on them,” explains the drummer. If his music career failed to ignite, the boy might easily have gone into politics.

  Dave immediately took to drum lessons. Soon he was putting together bands with slightly older boys from the neighbourhood, using the most rudimentary equipment imaginable. “One kid took two strings off an acoustic guitar to play bass,” Dave recalls. “All I had for drums was a snare drum and a cymbal.” Since he only needed those two pieces for the school band, he made the most with what he had. The White Stripes would approve.

  Early on, Dave met guitarist Tom “Mot” Pfalz. “Mot had a Flying V, and he would attempt to do backflips onstage. He was one of those insane kids who was really fun to watch,” says Dave. Not just that, but Mot motivated the other kids to practice harder, and they eventually began to learn. Dave was thirteen in 1983 when the latest incarnation of the band began to call themselves Entirely Distorted. Mot, who played guitar and sang, was the undisputed leader. “We did l
ittle shows in the garage and at our junior high school, but we were way too young to play in the bar,” Dave explains. It was hard to find shows.

  Entirely Distorted slowly learned how to play, but some of Dave’s bandmates admitted that they had only joined the group so they could practice in Dave’s basement, where Liz occasionally made appearances. Although the boys would have done anything to get a bit closer to the beauty, they won a different sort of lottery when Muc agreed to let them open for SNFU. “Liz was doing a bit of professional modeling and she had the GBH hair, so the guys were always around,” Dave recalls. “She was seeing Marc, her friend Glenna started seeing Bunt, and a girl named Leah was dating Evan. We all went to the same high school.” Marc reveals that Liz was his first “real” girlfriend.

  Dave and his friends saw SNFU when Entirely Distorted was still in its infancy. “We arrived at Spartan’s too early, and the place was almost deserted. When SNFU showed up for soundcheck, Evan jumped on our table and it collapsed,” says Dave, remembering how startled he and his friends had been. “SNFU were still fairly new, but there were all sorts of stories and rumours about them already. They were the shit.” Although he can’t remember who else was on the bill that night, Dave says that SNFU was incredible. “At one point, they broke into ‘Eye of the Tiger’ or something before smashing back into the song,” Dave recalls. “They opened up a whole new world for us.”

  In the months and years to follow, Dave attended many SNFU shows, where he often stood at the side of the stage, ready to sing backup vocals or pick up gear that got knocked over. He also spent a lot of time watching the drummer. “Evan had such a unique style—he really blew my mind,” Dave reflects. “He would throw up while he was playing and never lose a beat. Evan had more tattoos than anyone else did, including that blue jay tattoo on his head. SNFU were kinda bigger than life to me. I really looked up to them.”