Snfu

by Chris Walter

  A friend of Chi’s named Craig Rose volunteered his services as a roadie, and also provided a company van to transport the crew and equipment. Away from the stifling constraints of the office, Craig underwent a transformation that was nothing less than remarkable. “He was a normal guy with a job at IBM, but he just went apeshit on the road,” laughs Rob “Starbuck” Johnson. “He dyed his hair and got some piercings—he was a party fucking animal!”

  Eventually, SNFU arrived in Orlando for a huge show at a chain venue, The Edge. “Most of those shows blend together because they were all so packed and noisy,” Rob says vaguely. Somehow, Bad Religion had discovered the magic that brought the fans out in large numbers. What did they have that SNFU didn’t? Life was a mystery indeed.

  Moving through Florida like rolling thunder, SNFU and Bad Religion played consecutive shows in Fort Lauderdale, St. Petersburg, and Pensacola. SNFU didn’t have to worry about skinheads this time because the venues had plenty of security goons to deal with them. “Those shows were much the same: Big crowds, good merch sales, and tons of enthusiastic kids. I think anyone could have opened on that tour and done well,” Rob suggests modestly. “There was always a moshpit going because the kids were so amped to see Bad Religion.”

  In New Orleans, the nu-metal band Korn opened for SNFU and Bad Religion. “They rolled up in a brand-new tour bus, all decked out in Adidas track suits,” says Rob, unimpressed. “Korn hadn’t really broke to the mainstream yet, and their management simply wanted to get them on the road.” Rob also remembers that they were big rock stars, even at this early stage of their career. “Those snobs wouldn’t even talk to us.”

  The shows in Houston, Austin, Dallas, Albuquerque, and Costa Mesa were uniformly awesome. At the Hunteridge Theater in Las Vegas, film producer Eric Matthies shot footage that would appear in the “Eric’s Had a Bad Day” video. Las Vegas was also notable because Steve Jones stood at one side of the stage, and B-52s frontman Fred Schneider watched from the other. “They were totally into it, and Chi was a big B-52s fan, so he was stoked,” Rob Johnson remembers. Since the singer had grown up on the Sex Pistols, the presence of Steve Jones was no less fantastic.

  Craig Rose had to return to work, so he left the company van with the band in Las Vegas and flew back to Vancouver. That night, the guys received a panicked call from the ex-roadie. He’d been fired because of his new lip ring, and now IBM wanted their van back. SNFU played the last show in Irvine, California before hustling back to Vancouver, anxious to spare Craig further problems. It was bad enough that he’d lost his job. “I swear, that tour changed his life,” says Starbuck. Clearly, IBM had been cramping Craig’s style.

  At home in Vancouver, the boys slept, watched TV, ate heartily, got laid, and did all the things that young men returning home from war commonly do. They had an entire month and a half to laze around being normal—when they weren’t playing locally or rehearsing, that is. Soon they would be off to Europe again, where they would be sleeping on a bus with no catering and few luxuries.

  Never ones to sit idly, the guys soon started work on the “Big Thumbs” video, which Epitaph also released as a single. The video was filmed at the New York Theatre one Sunday afternoon, with SNFU playing live because Chi refused to lip sync. When he wasn’t bouncing around like one of the beach balls he still tossed into audiences, the singer spent a good deal of time contorted into weird positions on the floor in front of the monitors. With his super low bass and hair thick on top but short on the bottom, Rob “Starbuck” Johnson is an entertaining sight as he cavorts about the stage. In order to recreate the slide guitar effect used in the recording, Chi Pig rubs a jar full of liquid containing a rubber thumb along the neck of Marc Belke’s guitar. Other than that, the video is gimmick free and as straightforward as a punch in the face. “It came out really well, actually,” says Marc, happy for once with the finished product.

  Not long afterwards, SNFU did the video for “Eric’s Had a Bad Day,” which is also free of complicated plots and themes. Interestingly, producer Eric Matthies (who also directed the “Big Thumbs” video) is not the subject of the song. Rather, that dubious honour went to Eric Thorkelson, who hosted the CiTR radio show Flex Your Head and played bass for the hardcore band Strain. “Eric Thorkelson was one of the first people we met when we started playing in Vancouver. He’s a really good guy,” says Marc Belke. Eric Matthies, not to be confused with Eric Thorkelson, although he may also be a good guy, took the stock he’d shot in Las Vegas home to Los Angeles, where he added footage of himself driving the city streets in a beat-up auto. When the vehicle breaks down, Eric takes a skateboard from the trunk only to be picked up by a pretty girl, who soon kicks him out and chases him in the car. The video ends with alternate scenes of Eric tailgating the vehicle on his skateboard, and SNFU performing live onstage.

  Both videos represented the band well, and “Eric’s Had a Bad Day” was also released as a single. The reenergized SNFU did not have the look or feel of a group that had been grinding it out in small clubs and squats around the world for more than twelve years. Rather, they seemed poised to make the leap to something huge and exciting. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell what the future might bring, good or bad. They could only wait and see.

  With the videos out of the way, SNFU flew to East Berlin on April 21st, 1995, and drove to Den Bosch in the Netherlands with roadie Gentleman Jim Norton, soundman Randy Steffes, and merch guy Dan DeVloo. The boys did a show with Youth Brigade at The Arena in Amsterdam that night, and fans responded well to songs such as “Big Thumbs” and “Drunk On a Bike.” That said, the fans loved the old stuff even more. No matter how hard they tried, SNFU could never escape shouted requests for “She’s Not on the Menu” or “Cannibal Cafè,” even thousands of miles from home.

  The boys took one of only two days off on April 24th before reaching Cologne, Germany. There they learned that No Use For a Name would not be able to make the tour as planned, leaving the promoter scrambling for another support act. SNFU soon made the kids forget about No Use For a Name with a high-energy set that included foodstuffs and flames. The venues, while fairly small, were generally crowded, and the promoters were not stingy with the food and drink. Chi Pig remembers a middle-aged patron hitting on Gentleman Jim Norton, who definitely wasn’t into whatever the fellow was offering. “That’s what you get for wearing a leather jockstrap!” says the singer, laughing.

  In Hamburg, at Fabrik, Gentleman Jim Norton bashed his head on a steel I-beam during load out, giving everyone a fright. “I was all sweaty and couldn’t really feel the cut on my head, but people were horrified,” remembers the roadie. He finally accepted a lift to the hospital, where the yuppie-looking doctor was not only familiar with SNFU, but had recently attended a show at Fabrik himself. Gentleman Jim had his wound glued shut and left the hospital realizing that people aren’t always as square as they look.

  Aside from encouraging guests to use skate ramps installed at the back of the venue, the people who operated Conny Island in Leipzig, Germany also made free banners for bands they liked, and SNFU fit that category. Oddly, the banners were vertical rather than horizontal, so the band names ran vertically as well. “Two of them were just graphics with no letters,” says Jim Norton. “They made one based on Green and Leafy, and another for a different album.” SNFU used the banners occasionally, running them alongside the rotted head flag they always flew. The eerie thing about the banners was that the long, narrow shape recalled the flags used by the Nazis during the Second World War. Had they been red-and-white, the similarity would have been even more obvious. “If you had 4,000 of them you could march in a parade,” kids Gentleman Jim. The Germans, who understandably hate any reference to WW2, would not appreciate the joke.

  The show in Poznan, Poland was the biggest of the tour. “The punks came out in droves—there were so many of them. You could see them walking towards the venue from every direction,” says Dan DeVloo of the approximately 1,500 kids who showed up. Sadly, mo
st were so poor that they had to choose between booze and admission. “There were more kids drinking in the parking lot than there were in the show,” Brent remembers. The band sold merch below cost just so fans could get a shirt. “We spent the Polish money before we left the country because we didn’t know what else to do with it.” SNFU stayed at a hotel that night, feeling just the slightest bit guilty for being Canadian.

  On May 4th, 1995, Epitaph released The One Voted Most Likely To Succeed in North America, but the band wouldn’t see the CD until they got home because it hadn’t been released in Europe yet. Hopefully, the release would earn the band some new fans. More than ever, it was important for SNFU to play as hard as they possibly could. Much depended on the success of this album.

  Randy Steffes, who left the tour in London in order to meet prior obligations with Green Day, was replaced by a dreadlocked giant from Birmingham named Greg Hemmings. “You couldn’t understand a word that Greg said, but he was a sweetheart of a guy. He’d drink a bottle of Jagermeister almost every night,” recalls Gentleman Jim. Dan DeVloo remembers that one night Greg decided to show off by guzzling a bottle of Jager. “He got about half of it down, but then he was puking when we stopped for gas,” laughs Dan. “Greg was always smiling and wanted to wrestle,” remembers Jim Norton.

  In Glasgow, Scotland on May 9th, a local hooligan stumbled out of a bar and punched Chi Pig in the head for no apparent reason. “I just happened to be walking past, and the guy booked me in the back of the fucking head and totally knocked me over,” recalls the singer, unimpressed with the way the Scots treat visitors. The hooligan obviously didn’t like the way Chi looked.

  Shows in Spain always started very late, and SNFU rarely played before 3:00 AM. “You always had an awesome time, but somewhere around 1:00 AM you wondered what the fuck you’d done with your life,” says Jim Norton, referring to the dead time spent waiting for support acts to finish playing and get off the stage. Aside from the late hours, Spain was always a favoured place for the band, and they were treated like kings. For soundcheck, possibly in Vitoria, Muc played Fear’s “I Love Livin’ In the City,” causing Gentleman Jim to take notice. “I might have gotten up and asked to sing,” he says, trying to remember if he did or not. We’re assuming he did, setting the stage for future performances.

  To keep themselves amused on the bus, the band watched Pulp Fiction and the “snuff” video Traces of Death, the sequel to Faces of Death, endlessly. The driver was a little German named Akim. Dan DeVloo wishes he could forget seeing the man stretched out poolside at the venue in Toulouse, France wearing nothing but a skin-tight Speedo. “The Germans like to wear Speedos, no matter how big or small they are,” says Dan. Brent remembers taking a dip after waking up hungover on the bus. “The water was ice cold and my body went into shock when I dove in. Someone from the club congratulated me as I climbed out, since I was the first person to use the pool that year. But my head sure felt clearer.”

  The boys returned to Germany for a show at The Cult in Arnsberg. When the crowd refused to let the band leave the stage after several encores, Chi Pig finally crawled under a pool table, even though everyone could still see him. When Gentleman Jim tried to talk the frontman into returning, Chi ordered him to sing “I Love Livin’ In the City” with the band. “Channelling my inner Lee Ving, I tried to beat everyone up while I was singing, and I did a fairly good job of it,” says the roadie, who was wearing only a diaper fashioned from a towel at the time. At one point, Jim even punched Starbuck in the chest after the bassist tried to stop him from head-butting the neck of Marc’s guitar while he was playing. “By the end of the song, all the gear was knocked over, everything was destroyed, and the signal had been sent that the show was over.” Unfortunately, Jim hurt his knee in the fracas, and he still had to break down the gear and load out. “I couldn’t ask the band for help after that,” he explains woefully. “I could barely walk.”

  Two dates in Switzerland went so well that the guys can’t remember them, and SNFU wrapped up the tour in Frankfurt, Germany on June 6th at The Negative. The band was pleased that yet another European tour had reached a successful conclusion. Who could have guessed that a bunch of skinny punks from Edmonton would become experienced touring musicians?

  After resting up for a bit, SNFU was ready for a record release gig at the New York Theatre, and Brett Gurewitz flew in from LA to attend. “Brett was stoked because this album was more punk rock, and he had some high expectations. They did a lot of promoting on the radio and in magazines,” says Marc. While Dave Rees may not have been under as much stress, he was shocked to discover that the graphic designers had forgotten to include his name on the back cover, even though he was in the photograph. “They pressed 80,000 copies, so they weren’t about to throw away all those album jackets,” says Rees, still somewhat chagrined. Other than that, the boys were optimistic about the release, which they felt was more focused and consistent than the last one. “For me, it was the best re-cord we’d ever done,” says Marc. Dave “Rave” Ogilvie had delivered the goods, and the sound quality was beyond reproach.

  Shorter and punchier, The One Voted Most Likely To Succeed had the potential to reach a broader audience. Quirky numbers such as “Joni Mitchell Tapes” or “Strangely Strange,” were gone, replaced with slicker, faster tunes, all less than three minutes long. The first track, “Rusty Rake,” opens with the one-two punch of the Belke guitar attack and Chi Pig’s distinctive vocals. A song concerning gratitude, “Rusty Rake” also features a nifty bass breakdown courtesy of Rob “Starbuck” Johnson. Jumping directly into the next track, “A Better Place” depicts an old woman contemplating a life that has run its course. Despite its lively tempo, the song carries with it the disturbing reminder that life is short. On “Big Thumbs,” the singer considers shovelling the sidewalk in September, a task unusual for Vancouver at any time of year. Because the potent song is more about headaches than it is about snow, Gurewitz wanted them to call it “Oh My Headache,” but Chi Pig refused to budge.

  “Drunk On A Bike” is the second bona fide fist-pumping, sing-along smash of the album. With its infectious melody and memorable riff, “Drunk On A Bike” is a return to the simple but effective punk stylings that made SNFU popular originally. “It’s the bike couriers’ mantra,” says Chi Pig. “Manuel” is a weird but likeable song about a Mexican who has a little accident, and “My Mold Collection” is an even weirder song, presumably about the things Chi Pig found growing in his fridge. Since he rarely went outside except to rehearse, inspiration generally struck the reclusive frontman as he chain-smoked cigarettes in the seclusion of his Knight Street apartment. Side one ends with the lightning-fast ode to hoarders entitled “Bumper Stickers” that contains the immortal line “coaster collecting is fascinating.” Side one clocked in at less than seventeen minutes, and fans would be sure to flip the album in a hurry.

  “Eric’s Had a Bad Day,” which opens side two, is the next showstopper here, bombarding listeners with an avalanche of raging guitars and pounding rhythms. As anthemic as it is memorable, the song is merely a breathless precursor of faster things to come. The bass-driven “The King of Skin,” for example, is a tribute to pornmaster Larry Flynt. As always, Chi’s lyrics are as playful as they are morbid, and although Flynt is not yet dead, the imagery of Jerry Falwell gloating over his muddy grave is chilling. “Mutated Dog” is another whimsical and gruesome flight of fancy from the depths of Chi Pig’s twisted mind. Nifty but ultimately meaningless, “Mutated Dog” was one of Marc Belke’s favourites to play.

  Moving along, “Bizarre Novelties” explores solo acts of sexual deviance in an offhand way that makes thumbscrews and nipple clamps seem boring. “Lovely Little Frankenstein” is loaded with double meanings, and the singer might again be offering hints as to his own sexual orientation. The riff-heavy collection of hooks would give any video producer plenty of ideas. Mike “Gabby” Gaborno of the Cadillac Tramps and Bif Naked appear on “One Last Loveshove,” which changes fro
m a lovesick lament to scathing rejection when the protagonist abruptly ditches his or her lover. The song informs the listener that not only is the relationship over, but so is the album. Although The One Voted Most Likely To Succeed owed more to Dag Nasty or Down By Law than it did to the Circle Jerks or Black Flag, the twenty-seven minute album was both feisty and enjoyable. This one had more than a chance. This one could be it.

  With just over a month to kill before the summer tour began, Rob Johnson started a weekly booze-up known as the Gin and Sin. The bassist had discovered the lounge scene while on tour in LA, and wanted to do something similar in Vancouver. Spinning jazz and swing records at the Niagara Hotel, Rob hired local bands such as The Rattlin’ Roosters, the Molestics, or Bughouse Five, and charged between five and ten dollars admission. Rob’s business associate Steve Chase, who found the room and decorated it, remembers the Gin and Sin. “We had a wicked mix of punks in suits, assorted randoms, our drag queen cigar girl and her crowd, the odd NHLer and anyone else who met the dress code.” To everyone’s surprise, the venture was a success, and Rob was soon taking home $500 weekly, which was sometimes more than he made on the road.

  Settling into his new lifestyle, Rob practiced with SNFU in the afternoon before making his way to the bar for an evening of drinking and music. When SNFU toured, Rob paid someone else to DJ, and there was always money waiting for him when he got home. Marc Belke even took over on Tuesday nights, spinning old-school punk records from his sizeable collection. A single guy, Rob eschewed one-night stands, searching instead for the right woman. The musician felt lucky to be making a living doing things he would probably do for free.