Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Moving on to New York City, SNFU played the New Music Café, and as usual, the attendance could have been better. “Our shows in New York always sucked for the most part,” Starbuck says wearily. “They were much better in Trenton or even Hoboken.” From New York, the boys drove for eight hours straight to reach Cleveland for a show at The Grogg Shop on June 26th. This one was also half empty, making the boys long for Canada, where the halls were generally full. At least the gig at the long-running First Avenue and 7th Street Entry in Minneapolis on June 28th was good, and the band actually managed to draw a decent crowd in the big room. Never knowing what to expect at US shows kept them humble.

  Cruising on autopilot now, SNFU reentered Canada and drove all the way to Regina for the next show. These days, it wasn’t financially worthwhile to hit Winnipeg again so soon, hence the bypass. Regina, of course, was as rowdy as ever, and the kids soaked up the energy and spat out the beer. SNFU stopped in Calgary again, and even did a gig in Red Deer on July 2nd, but they headed home after that without returning to Edmonton. Exhaustion was setting in.

  The boys barely had time to guzzle a few beers before returning to LA on July 24th for the third night of the Epitaph Summer Nationals with NOFX, RKL, Gas Huffer, and Bad Religion. At least SNFU were allowed to bring their guitars on this occasion and didn’t have to sneak into the country as tourists.

  Around this time, Chi Pig discovered the sedative qualities of cough syrup. “I had a throat infection, and the doctor told me to get some acetaminophen and cough syrup. I did, and I found out that I liked the way it made me feel,” says Chi, who continued to take the drugs long after his throat improved. His drug of choice was cheap and he could buy it almost anywhere.

  Home for the summer, Chi Pig fell into a steady routine. He would start the day with a trip to the drugstore for his cough syrup. After that, the singer would buy lunch at a Chinese restaurant and sit on a bench in the park, eating BBQ chicken and writing in his notebook. “The words would just come to me,” he recalls of the process. Writing sessions were followed by a bus ride to Renegade Studios. SNFU rehearsed four or five days a week. One afternoon, as the singer sat writing lyrics on a bench, the police rolled up on him, thinking he was a pedophile. “They thought my Walkman was a camera, and that I was taking pictures of the kids,” he says. After checking his ID and running him through the computer, the officers moved on. “I just went home after that,” says Chi Pig, remembering how the cops killed his muse. Law enforcement is good for that.

  Despite police interference and other interruptions, the songs they needed for The One Voted Most Likely To Succeed began to take shape. Rob Johnson, who felt more like part of the band by this time, contributed the music to “The King of Skin” and “My Mold Collection.” SNFU had already been playing many of these songs, and “Drunk On a Bike” and “Eric’s Had a Bad Day” were crowd-approved favourites. Mostly, the songwriting process involved fitting lyrics to riffs the band had already developed. Alterations were often necessary, and the job wasn’t as simple as it sounds, but the musicians worked well together. At this point, Chi Pig and Marc Belke had a tolerable working relationship, even if they weren’t about to attend ball games or cruise gay nightspots together. In fact, the undercurrent of tension actually gave the band a sharper edge.

  Soon, however, it was time for SNFU to leave again. The Ain’t Life A Mystery tour in support of Bad Religion and Green Day began in Stuttgart, Germany on September 28th, 1994. The twenty-one date jaunt across Europe would be the most lavish SNFU would ever have the pleasure to experience. They also brought Al Boyd, a friend of Rob’s who volunteered to roadie for almost nothing. “Al was more mod than punk, so we weren’t sure if he’d enjoy himself, but by the end he was best friends with Bad Religion and their crew. He stayed behind in London, and he’s still there,” says Brent, recounting one man’s escape from the prairies.

  On this tour, instead of moving around Europe in a cramped HiAce van with Monk’s socks tickling their noses, they had their own bus, complete with a pot smoking German driver named Stony. “You could walk around on that bus or play video games in the lounge at the back,” Chi Pig recalls. Punk was definitely not about luxury and comfort, but after eleven years of hardship and adversity, this rare extravagance was not unappreciated.

  Brett Gurewitz, meanwhile, was taking a break from Bad Religion to concentrate on running the label. Bad Religion, in fact, had moved from Epitaph to Atlantic Records, and was touring in support of Recipe for Hate, their most successful album to date. Green Day, meanwhile, had already gone thermonuclear in North America with their new album Dookie, and that success was now spreading to Europe.

  Green Day may have been selling more albums, but Bad Religion was still the headliner. The generous musicians not only hired caterers to prepare and serve the meals, but they shared the gourmet food with SNFU and Green Day as well. “The food on that tour was amazing,” says Chi Pig. “I’d come off stage and my supper would be waiting in the dressing room. I gained thirty pounds on the road,” declares the singer, although he would have looked like Santa Claus with blond dreadlocks had he actually gained that much weight.

  Fans might not have been eating as well as the musicians were, but they found other things to keep themselves amused. Chi remembers a crowd of people watching a young couple fuck on the floor in the middle of a venue, oblivious to everything but each other. “It was fascinating,” says Chi Pig, and he is definitely not referring to coaster collecting.

  Mr. Chi Pig was also a bit startled to see Randy Steffes, who had once played guitar for Gorilla Gorilla. Now Randy was making much more money as road manager for Green Day, even if he no longer played in a band. Immediately after saying hello Randy told them that the guys in Green Day hadn’t had a toke all day and were getting edgy. When someone in SNFU supplied a baggie of grass, Randy rolled a four-paper joint and Green Day came aboard the bus to smoke it. “And that’s how I met Green Day,” says Chi Pig, who didn’t smoke weed in those days. “They just got fucking stooooned.” Dave Rees remembers that Billy Joe Armstrong clearly looked up to Chi Pig. “SNFU was a very influential band to a lot of people,” he reflects, almost wonderingly.

  The caravan rolled on, crossing through Germany into Switzerland and Italy. Chi Pig claims that Green Day bassist Mike Dirnt and Rob “Starbuck” Johnson drank shooters wrung from their sweaty T-shirts as part of an unusal post-show ritual. “They just bonded, y’know?” laughs the singer. Starbuck, however, denies that such a thing ever happened. “I’m not the kind of guy who drinks sweat shooters,” he insists. Dave Rees begs to differ. “Even though he’ll probably kill me, I vaguely remember that as well. There was a lot of drinking going on.” Bassist Matt Warhurst, who joined SNFU in 2003, has a similar tale. “When I met Mike Dirnt at the Green Day show in Vancouver, he went right into the story as soon as I introduced myself. He basically told me the same thing Chi did without me asking him about it.” Nonetheless, the story remains unproven.

  Sitting up at the front of the bus with Stony, Chi Pig gained a few more pounds eating sweets the driver got from the caterers. “We hogged them all and didn’t share with the band. That’s what pigs do!” says the pie-loving frontman. “Besides, those guys were too busy drinking.”

  Doubling back through France into Spain, Brent Belke asked a drowsy Chi Pig if he was on heroin. The singer denied it vigourously, but eventually told them about the acetaminophen tablets and DM cough syrup. More than anything, Brent was baffled by the singer’s choice of drugs. Heroin he could understand, but cough syrup? Chi didn’t bother to explain that his drug was legal and he could get it almost anywhere. In fact, Chi learned that many over-the-counter preparations in Europe contained high levels of codeine. “I got some good stuff at the farmacia in Barcelona,” says Chi, who took the opportunity to stock up on his drug of choice. There was no telling when they might be back.

  Seemingly at random, the tour crisscrossed back and forth, taking the bands to the famous punk squat Ch
ristiana in Copenhagen, Denmark. “They had these Lebanese guys in there with a huge brick of hash and a cleaver. They would cut you whatever you wanted,” Chi Pig remembers. “Even the dogs were totally stoned.” In Stockholm, the bands were invited to watch a major league hockey game from a VIP box in the arena where the show was to be held that night. For the Belkes, life didn’t get any better than this, and they loved every second of it. “That’s when we kinda felt like rock stars,” Rob Johnson admits. The musicians were even encouraged to don skates and use the rink after the game. To their dismay, Bad Religion’s drum tech, who had never been on skates before, instantly fell down and split his head open. Later, at the same venue, Dave Rees and Tres Cool, the drummer for Green Day, stole a golf cart and rolled it. “Hanging out with those guys was like that,” explains Rees.

  Dave and Tres Cool tried to find ways to amuse themselves before and after shows. “Green Day had huge bowls of candy and joints in their dressing room,” says Dave, remembering one of their less mischievous pastimes. Unlike the guys in Green Day, who were always looking for adventure, the older, wiser members of Bad Religion avoided risky shenanigans, even if some of them were not above smoking a joint or two. SNFU was somewhere in the middle. “We got caught for wrecking the golf cart, but Green Day gave them some money and the problem went away,” says Dave Rees.

  The tour finally wound to a close in Paris, France on October 20th. SNFU played a large concert venue with Bad Religion and were finished by 8:30. Backstage, the band started drinking the rider while Marc demonstrated how “butter flies” by throwing a brick of the yellow stuff against the wall. “It made a terrible mess,” he says, sounding vaguely embarrassed. At any rate, the boys laid waste to most of the available alcohol and went to see Green Day perform at a tiny, jam-packed club across town. When they learned there was no opening act for the show, Bunt, Muc, and guitarist Greg Hetson (Circle Jerks, Bad Religion), got up to perform several punk classics with Hetson as vocalist and Green Day’s roadie Tim Chunks on drums. “Greg made his singing debut with ‘Beverley Hills’ that night. It was awesome, and a perfect way to end the tour,” remembers Bunt. “Mick Jones from the Clash was there, and he bummed a smoke from me.” Muc tried to give Mick his SNFU cap but the punk legend wouldn’t take it. Muc was thrilled nonetheless to have met the famous punk musician.

  At home, SNFU had very little time to decompress. Just before Christmas of 1994, the boys entered Mushroom Studios on West 6th Avenue to cut their fifth studio album. No longer wide-eyed rookies but seasoned veterans of the music industry, the boys knew what they wanted and were determined to get it. Still, it would not be a cakewalk. The musicians had plenty of attitude, but they were not burdened with an excessive amount of material. “Ideally, you want to have about thirty songs, but we usually had just enough for the album,” says Muc. If any of the parts didn’t work, they would have to rewrite them on the spot. Luckily, none of the members stopped to worry about such petty details.

  Working through Christmas, the band concentrated on laying the bed tracks. All was going smoothly until Chi Pig failed to appear one afternoon, prompting the band to make a frantic phone call. Although he’d taken the bus every day without complaint, the singer suddenly decided that he wouldn’t make an appearance unless they sent a car. Baffled by this odd request, Dave Fortune went to fetch the troublesome vocalist. “We knew Chi was quirky, but we accepted it because we respected him and his talent. You always had to handle him a bit differently, but it seemed a small price to pay considering the potential that lay ahead,” imparts Marc Belke. “To me, he’s a true artist, and if you can’t accept that, you shouldn’t be in a band with him.” The recording resumed, and Chi took the bus the next day as if nothing had happened.

  The recording was finished in less than two weeks, but the album still had to be mixed. This time, producer Dave “Rave” Ogilvie would take the controls to give SNFU what they needed. Unlike the last producer, Dave would not be checking into rehab at any point during the process. The mixing began at Bryan Adams’ West Vancouver mansion, where the mainstream rocker had installed a state-of-the-art recording studio in his basement. “The studio opened onto a patio overlooking English Bay, and the mixing was a joyful experience,” recalls Marc. “Dave knew the ins-and-outs of that board. He knew exactly how to get the sounds he wanted from it.” The guitarist looks back at 1995-1996 as being the only time in his life where he could concentrate on music without performing a soul-killing job on the side. “It was great,” he sighs nostalgically.

  Dave Rees remembers snooping through Bryan Adams’ downstairs closets. “He had Angus Young’s Marshall cabinet in his basement. Bryan had all sorts of memorabilia laying around down there. You can only imagine what he had upstairs.” Chi Pig claims that he was taking a piss when he noticed several framed gold records leaning against the wall next to the toilet. “I just turned slightly and pissed all over those records,” snickers the frontman, although it seems odd that Bryan would leave gold records next to the toilet. It is easier to believe Chi Pig when he says he washed his dirty clothes at Bryan’s house.

  The mixing continued, with Ogilvie smoking prodigious amounts of high-grade BC bud every day. The others didn’t need much convincing to join in, and the studio generally smelled as if the Bad Brains had stopped by for an extended visit. Working late into the evening, Chi Pig managed to avoid urinating on any other property belonging to Mr. Adams, and the band eventually finished the mixing in mid-January. The final mix then went for mastering, which was also done to everyone’s satisfaction. Perhaps this album would be the one.

  One day while watching MuchMusic, Marc saw a Twix candy bar commercial that included brief footage of Chi Pig doing one of his patented aerial leaps from the kick drum. The band sued, and eventually settled out of court for an undisclosed sum. “We all got money, and Chi got a bit more because he was in the clip,” remembers Muc. Punk rock was finally starting to pay.

  By now, Marc and Renée had moved to a small apartment on Jervis Street in the West End. Pleased to be free of roommates, Marc had also given up his job as a runner for House of Blues to focus entirely on music. Dave Rees stayed briefly with Rob Johnson at a $350 per month three-storey walk-up known as the Bush House on Robson and Thurlow before moving in with Brent, who was living with Garnet Harry in Kitsilano again. “Garnet was a bartender at the Railway Club. He was a great guy who seemed to like having us around,” says Dave Rees, sounding somewhat mystified.

  On January 7th, the day SNFU finished the new album, Brent took a phone call from an attractive woman named Mina Shum, who boldly asked the guitarist to dinner. Garnet had introduced them to each other a year earlier, and although Mina had moved away for work, she was back in town. “I went over to have supper and stayed for a few days,” Brent says of his current wife, who went on to become a critically acclaimed movie director. Since the pair was still together in 2012, it could be safely argued that he stayed much longer than “a few days.”

  Brent may have been happy about meeting Mina, but money was a concern for the band, and although SNFU was receiving regular advances from Epitaph, Cargo was still withholding royalties for the two earlier albums on that label. When Marc finally managed to reach co-boss Eric Goodis on the phone, he was told they weren’t getting any money because the band had failed to fulfill its contract. “That wasn’t really true, but he had all sorts of excuses,” Marc recalls disgustedly. Unable to afford a protracted legal battle, they had no choice but to drop the matter. “I eventually got some money from Paul [Allen], but you had to harass him all the time. He was such a fucking prick…” says Muc, trailing off.

  Gubby Szvoboda candidly describes the issues with Cargo Records. “Randy sold his shares when he left the label, and the sole owners, Eric Goodis and Phillip Hill, brought in two new shareholders, Paul Allen and Allan Fox. Both were slick business types that didn’t know the industry. All they knew was that Cargo did very well and they wanted a piece of it. Eventually, Phil and Eric s
old their shares to Paul and Allan, who became the new owners. Paul Allen and Allan Fox drove that company into the ground. Paul was a fucking snake, but he died. Allan is still living somewhere in Montreal, as far as I know.”

  Accepting the lesson for what it was, SNFU prepared to tour again. This time, however, SNFU would not be playing half-empty bars, but large venues packed with excited kids. While they would probably lose money opening for Bad Religion, they would at least have the opportunity to earn new fans. “Offspring’s Smash was selling millions of copies and Brett Gurewitz wanted a tax write-off. He told us to get what we needed for the tour, and that the costs would be non-recoupable. Guess what? That money was recoupable after all,” Brent recalls dryly. Not that Epitaph ever saw any of that money.

  SNFU headed into the winter wonderland, stopping at Moe’s Bar in Seattle for a show on February 7th. The place wasn’t full to bursting, but the kids were appreciative and the band made money. Stopping only for gas and food, the two vans containing the band and crew proceeded all the way to LA, where they hung out at Epitaph for a few days. The rest of the tour loomed ahead, and it was nice to take a break and kick back for a while.

  Soon the gang set off on the wickedly long 48-hour drive to Orlando, Florida, trying hard not to think about the mind-numbing boredom ahead. “There was always at least one retardedly long drive on every tour,” Rob Johnson recalls stoically. Since the boys knew they’d be back for a full tour later that summer, they elected not to play any shows along the way. Across the vast expanse of America they travelled, the identical strip malls and fast food franchises an endless, hypnotic blur. At times, even though it wasn’t true, they felt as if they spent more time in the USA than they did in Canada.