by Chris Walter
The paperwork flew back and forth between Vancouver and Los Angeles, leading to a three-record deal that was more or less identical to contracts signed by other bands on Epitaph. Although SNFU would receive what seemed like a small percentage of each unit sold, they would receive those monies before the production costs were recovered. The label would also offer tour support and advances on future sales. “The reality is that most of the record contracts out there are carbon copies of each other, but Epitaph was always generous with us,” says Dave Fortune. Although Chi Pig thought the deal could have been better, Brent says he would sign that same contract today.
The Belkes were glad to be done with the paperwork, but they didn’t like to sit idle. Less than a week after they signed to Epitaph Records, SNFU embarked on a fourteen-date tour that went well and made money. Despite that, Marc and Bunt could hardly wait to play as the Wheat Chiefs again. “It seemed like the Wheat Chiefs finally had their own identity,” says Brent.
On May 8th, the Wheat Chiefs did a show at Station Street for the Music West Festival in Vancouver. SNFU had played the Town Pump as part of the festival the night before, but other than Brett Gurewitz and his wife—who had flown in from Los Angeles—they hadn’t noticed any media types or music industry hotshots. Because of this, the Wheat Chiefs didn’t take the show seriously, even polishing off a bottle of whisky between themselves during the set. “The lights were so bright that we couldn’t see the audience, and we didn’t really care who was out there,” says Brent Belke. To their surprise, a flurry of business cards landed on the stage after the set. People were watching—music industry people. “We were a bit shocked,” Bunt remembers.
Incredibly, one of the offers came from Mercury Records, a subsidiary of the mighty Universal Music Group. The advance added up to more than a million dollars, but Mercury was rumoured to be in trouble, and the Wheat Chiefs were hoping that another major label would make a similar offer. “People were joking that the only difference between the Titanic and Mercury was that the Titanic had a good band,” laughs Brent, remembering the reluctance they felt to sign on the dotted line. Still, this was all very heady stuff, and the Wheat Chiefs travelled to LA for several warmly received performances. The other members of SNFU weren’t so thrilled. Success for the Wheat Chiefs would spell disaster.
The tour continued, taking the Wheat Chiefs to such world-class destinations as Lethbridge and Banff. “After shows, we all hung out together, and we spent the whole tour drinking beer and talking about hockey,” says Brent. In Edmonton, the Wheat Chiefs played two shows with the reigning kings of puck rock, The Hanson Brothers. The Hansons liked the Wheat Chiefs enough to include their song “Joe Murphy” on Puck Rock Volume 1, a compilation album on their own label. After shows in Winnipeg and Kelowna, the band left Ed Dobek in Victoria and returned to Vancouver on the ferry. Things were looking up.
Although the Wheat Chiefs had much to digest, SNFU finally left to record their new album in August of 1993. They would not do a full tour along the way, but the opportunity to earn a few bucks could not be wasted, and the band stopped in some of the usual places. Unlike the hugely successful Wrong Turn Down Memory Lane reunion tour, attendance ranged from excellent to spotty. “The reunion tour was great, but it was never that good again,” laments Bunt.
Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, SNFU rolled on. The venue in LA could have been fuller, but the band gave the show everything they had, attracting the attention of booking agent Stormy Shepherd, who offered to arrange the band’s next tour. For Rob, it was still strange to be playing alongside Chi Pig rather than watching him from the audience. “One thing I noticed right away was that no one ever paid attention to the band. You could jump around as much as you wanted and play the best licks in the world, but everybody would be staring at Chi,” he says resignedly.
The band moved inland, and Rob Johnson remembers stopping at a melting glacier in Nevada. Since Monk was busy with Voivod, the group was using a roadie from Vancouver named Xen. “Dave Rees hit Xen Garglepenis right between the eyes with a snowball, and everybody thought that was quite funny. Xen looked like a short, Greek, Robert De Niro,” recalls Rob. “He was a terrible roadie, but a nice guy.” Xen’s surname was all but unpronounceable, so Brent dubbed him “Garglepenis,” and the approximation was close enough for the boys in the band. This would be Xen’s first and last tour with SNFU.
The boys went as far as San Diego before returning to LA. They moved into the apartment Brett Gurewitz rented for them in Hollywood and prepared to start work at his recording studio, which he had offered at a good rate. Travelling to Westbeach Recorders from Hollywood each day, the boys gave the project their undivided attention. For once they had a decent budget, and the stars were in alignment for them to make a great album. Going in, however, Marc didn’t sense much excitement from Brett or Donnell, probably because they weren’t really wild about the demos. Nevertheless, the band could only move forward and do what they could to make the album work.
Unfortunately, after only one day in the studio, producer Donnell Cameron checked into a rehabilitation facility to deal with his crack addiction, leaving SNFU dumbfounded. After waiting all summer to work with Donnell, the man had suddenly become unavailable. Because they no longer had time to shop around for another producer, this left the band in a difficult position. Unless they wanted to wait until 1994, they had to push ahead. After a frantic last-minute meeting, the boys finally decided to make the album with the help of Cameron’s engineer, Joe Peccerillo. Looking back, Dave Fortune feels that they should have delayed the project. “If I’d had more experience and thought it out properly, I would’ve packed everybody up and gone home. I don’t think Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes ended up sounding as good as it could have,” says Fortune. Although Marc remembers the urgency they felt at the time, he agrees with Dave. “We really wanted to do the record, but in hindsight, we should have waited. Albums are like business cards; they follow you forever.”
Nevertheless, the band began to lay the bed tracks, assisted by an engineer who knew more about hair metal than he did about punk. “The upside was that because Joe wasn’t a punk rock guy, he suggested different guitar sounds that we might not have tried otherwise,” says Brent. The team worked hard each day before returning to Hollywood, where the living arrangements were exactly what Marc Belke wanted when they were recording Better Than a Stick in the Eye in Vancouver. Even if the musicians weren’t the thickest of thieves, they could at least share ideas before they arrived at the studio, where the clock was always ticking. Work progressed non-stop at first, but the boys soon started to hit a few local nightspots. Even then, the musicians didn’t party so hard that it affected them the next day. “The process was relatively easy when we got into the studio because the band made it happen,” remembers Dave Fortune.
A week into the recording, Dave introduced the guys to some of the office girls at Epitaph, and Bunt made the acquaintance of a young woman named Xina. For now, at least, Brent could escape his foul-mouthed companions and spend time with someone who smelled better than they did. Life was good.
Chi Pig also fell into a comfortable routine, and even managed to put on a few badly needed pounds. “I’d buy food from the Ralph’s on the corner and come back and cook it up. That’s when I stopped smoking pot,” says the singer, although food and weed generally go well together. Unfortunately, he’d become addicted to tobacco from using it to dilute the strong BC bud. Now, instead of smoking a dozen or so joints every day, he smoked cigarettes instead. The singer probably found it easier to concentrate when he wasn’t high, but weed would have been healthier in the long run.
Before long, the bed tracks were done and the mixing began. Epitaph threw money at the project, even renting the tubular bells Dave Rees used in “Seven Minutes Closer to Death.” Despite this, Brent often found himself at loggerheads with engineer/producer Joe Peccerillo. “I kept saying more guitars and less vocals, but eventually I got tir
ed of that,” Brent remembers. “The other guys thought the mixes sounded fine but I thought they were crazy. Still, I think they knew we were in trouble when Joe used White Lion as a reference.”
The team eventually finished the mixing and the tape was sent for mastering. This time, at least, the highs and lows would not be flattened to conform to industry standards. While Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes was not the furious blast of old-school punk that earlier albums had been, it capably demonstrated that SNFU was not ready for the retirement home quite yet. Unfortunately, fans did not immediately grasp the experimental tone of the album, and it would never get the props it deserved. “The record might have been a little less consistent than their earlier efforts, but I liked it a lot, and it had some brilliant moments,” says Brett Gurewitz of SNFU’s first Epitaph release.
With the album finally in the bag, SNFU returned to Vancouver to shoot a promotional video and await the release. Although it would only be a matter of months, time passed slowly. If the band wasn’t as excited as they could have been because of the problems they’d encountered, they tried to be optimistic. Maybe the fans would like the new record, in which case their misgivings would be null and void. There was always hope.
For now, the boys kept themselves busy with the “Reality is a Ride on the Bus” video. Epitaph was financing the project, but the mechanics of it were largely up to SNFU. Since the band would have to repay the money eventually, the shoot would have to be done fairly cheaply. SNFU solved the problem by hiring Dave Rees’ brother-in-law. “He was an actual filmmaker, so it wasn’t a complete stretch,” says Marc. Nevertheless, because this so closely resembled the way the band hired new members, those who knew them were surprised they didn’t shoot the video in the man’s basement for free.
Shooting went well, and the producer quickly edited the video, which opens with a dreadlocked Chi Pig onstage with the band. Blending live footage with random scenes of people riding buses and trains, the video isn’t particularly coherent, but most people aren’t looking for deep meaning on MuchMusic or MTV. That said, the bizarre looking puppet that pokes up from behind a pile of tires is a little baffling, even if it does provide a few chuckles. The video also shows the band sitting in a bar wearing bus driver uniforms that Dave Fortune procured somewhere. In the last scene, the bandmembers chase a bus down the street, which fails to stop. “There was some really cool footage, and the video could have been really good, but we didn’t give the producer enough clear direction,” says Marc. The search for perfection continued.
Meanwhile, negotiations between the Wheat Chiefs and Mercury Records continued. Finally, almost a year after the initial contact, Mercury tabled an offer of just over 1.1 million. While that seemed like a lot of money, the offer was small by major label standards, and rumours persisted that Mercury was still in trouble. Further, an entertainment lawyer warned the band that they would be locked into a contract, unable to release albums with another label if Mercury collapsed. Being older and wiser, the Wheat Chiefs hesitated. They weren’t even looking for more money; they just wanted more stability. Instead of rushing ahead blindly, as they had with the last SNFU album, they decided to wait.
The Belkes had plenty to occupy their minds, and Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes was released in mid-November. Chi Pig was startled to see that because it was imported from the USA, the CD sold in Vancouver for $25 to $30. “We were only getting a dollar for each copy, so that didn’t seem very fair to us,” says Chi Pig. The singer felt that the price discouraged potential Canadian customers who might have bought the album if it hadn’t been so expensive.
Luckily, initial sales for the album were decent if not spectacular, and the label was cautiously optimistic. Punk was popular again, and the sky was the limit. Industry insiders speculated that several of the bands had the potential to become huge. Unfortunately, not even Brett Gurewitz knew exactly which groups would succeed. He thought all his bands were great, or he wouldn’t have signed them. “Brett said he’d go to Disneyland naked if our first album on Epitaph didn’t sell 75,000 copies,” says Brent. “We’re still waiting.”
Although Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes wasn’t what some people expected, the release is not without charm. The album opens with the catchy “All Those Opposed,” in which Chi Pig thanks his parents for the support they offered him as a youth. Rob Johnson’s agile bass leads the track, propelling it capably from one verse to the next. Peculiar observations made by the singer on his way to rehearsal, “Reality is a Ride on the Bus” starts off slowly before careening away at breakneck speed. A strange but appealing ride indeed. “Joni Mitchell Tapes” was inspired by a man who survived a bad car accident only to be trapped in the wrecked vehicle while Joni Mitchell played endlessly on the tape deck. The slower-paced song is one of Chi’s favourites on the album.
The next track, “A Bomb” does not refer to nuclear weapons, but to AIDS, which, so far at least, has killed more people. “Tin Fish” recalls a “subversive” submarine that fails to save the song’s protagonist. “Who writes songs about futons? Who writes songs about submarines? I do!” declares Chi Pig. “Painful Reminder” is very special to the singer, and concerns a crush he had on his grade eight teacher. He changed the sex of the teacher from male to female to make the song palatable to the hetero world, something he probably wouldn’t do now. “Costume Trunk,” of course, refers to the singer’s box of props, which he would dip into when the band performed live. “Costume Trunk” also hints at Chi Pig’s sexual orientation without being obvious about it.
Side two opens with “Gladly In Gloom,” which the singer claims is about his mom but seems to be more about his reclusive lifestyle. Even before the death of Edna in 1996, he rarely left the security of his apartment for anything that wasn’t band related. “This Is a Goodbye” was written for Jon Card, whom the singer had all but given up for lost. “Strangely Strange” casts doubt on the singer’s mental stability, even as he professes to be “happier than a shit-covered fly.” In “X-Creep,” an abused woman turns the tables on her tormenter. “Trudging” describes the need to get away from his fellow musicians on tour. In this case, the singers refers to a walk he took in Italy. “The Great Mind Eraser” is a whimsical number about a man with the capability to wipe his mind of unpleasant thoughts. Who among us does not wish they could do that?
Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes continues with the bleak “Limping Away,” which deals with physical and emotional pain, but in an upbeat and lively manner. “Seven Minutes Closer to Death” is not a song at all, but a thirty-one second warning that Chi Pig still chooses to ignore. According to doctors, smokers lose seven minutes of life for each cigarette they smoke. The album concludes with “The Watering Hole,” a hearty drinking song that Jello Biafra loves wholeheartedly. Ironically, Chi Pig wasn’t drinking when he penned those lyrics, even if he would later make up for that in spades. In all, Something Green and Leafy This Way Comes is an enjoyable if not earthshaking album that probably could have been just a little shorter. Dave Rees, in particular, feels the album is underrated. “There were a lot of really good songs on Leafy, and we were really excited about it.”
Still, and although the songs are well written and expertly played, it lacks stand-alone hits. With the possible exception of “All Those Opposed,” there are no “Time to Buy a Futon” or “Victims of The Womanizer” here. The smaller gems such as “Gladly In Gloom,” “Painful Reminder” and “Joni Mitchell Tapes,” tend to blend in with the rest, making it harder to appreciate them. Nevertheless, a new studio album was cause to celebrate, as it had been five long years since the last. Fans would find themselves humming the songs, which tend to lodge in the memory.
To announce the album, the band threw a party for the media and friends at the Malcolm Lowry Room in North Burnaby, where they also shot the “Reality is a Ride on the Bus” video. Instead of performing that night, SNFU handed out CDs and drinks, smiling until their faces hurt and shak
ing way too many hands. Still, this was part of the job, and although they weren’t making much more money at punk rock than they were in the food industry, they were having more fun.
Being signed to Epitaph did not really change day-to-day life for the band. For the next four years they would exist from advance to advance, maxing out credit cards and racking up both personal and band-related debt. To cover the bills, manager Dave Fortune wrote convincing and detailed proposals to Epitaph requesting money for everything from rent to tour vehicles. Epitaph always complied with the requests, and the advances piled up. In fact, the label actually encouraged them to spend money, putting them up in fancy hotels whenever they were in LA. The band readily agreed, unaware that every penny, plus interest, was going on their bill. “So we’re staying in a four-star hotel. I could give a shit, dude. I could sleep on a floor,” Chi Pig insists. In fact, the singer once slept on his own floor so that Dave Grohl—who was touring with his band Scream at the time—could have the bed. Not that Chi didn’t enjoy the luxury, especially since SNFU ultimately defaulted on the bill.
Shortly after the release party in mid-November, the guys climbed into Earl Grey and hit the lonely trail. Though they would be sleeping in hotels rather than depending on the largess of fans, conditions in the van would again be crowded. Not only did manager Dave Fortune accompany the band on this tour, but a new soundman, Brett Hopkins was also along for the ride. Brett met SNFU while doing sound at the Nappy Dugout, and had agreed to work for them. The busy fellow had previously drummed for Gorilla Gorilla, and was married briefly (and infamously) to singer Bif Naked.