Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Amazingly, the veteran members did not regret losing the Epitaph money. Free of big label trappings and the pressure that went with it, the musicians were simply four guys riding around in a van drinking beer again. Chi Pig and Marc Belke were even getting along better these days. The old gunslingers realized that they were stuck together for the long haul, united by a lack of anything better to do with their lives. If not brimming with brotherly love, the two at least respected each other for having the fortitude and stamina to grind it out month after month, year after year. Even Starbuck was the grizzled veteran of a thousand sweaty shows and a million greasy cheeseburgers. “It was an enjoyable time to play in the band,” recalls the bassist. SNFU was punk again.

  Slowly the boys made their way back across Canada. Dates in Edmonton and Calgary were successful enough to subsidize the smaller shows. Thanks to the Internet, SNFU could show up in places they’d never been such as Humboldt, Saskatchewan and be greeted by name. “It was kind of weird, but cool too,” relates Rob Johnson. “Those shows were like Spain, where you’d think nobody would come, and then people from miles around would come out of nowhere.” These flyspecks on the map were now important to touring punk bands such as SNFU and the DayGlo Abortions, and helped put gas in the tank.

  Although the tour had been relatively stress-free and fun, the boys were glad when they finally crossed the Rocky Mountains into British Columbia. They’d been gone for eight weeks and had maybe $1,200 each to show for it. Back home for mid-July, Rob Johnson found work in the lower echelons of the movie industry. “I got coffee for the guy who got coffee for everyone else,” he cracks. The bass player was also a part-time electrician’s apprentice, and took whatever casual labour came along. Chi Pig was only semi-employable at the best of times due to his various issues, and collected welfare when he could. A fan once caused the singer great alarm by asking for his autograph at the welfare office. Rock stars weren’t supposed to be collecting social assistance.

  Sean Stubbs, meanwhile, was still making reasonable coin as the drummer for NewWave-aoke, and Muc and Sean further supplemented their income doing production work for House of Blues. By now, the Belkes had buried the hatchet with Dave Fortune, and it was he who had supplied that job. As well as helping to set up skate ramps and delivering merch for Warped Tour, the pair also took one musician downtown to buy Cuban cigars. Another rocker wanted to ride his BMX bike in North Vancouver, so Sean gave him and his bike a lift. None of the guys had much breathing room financially, but they knew that SNFU would supply additional income. They just didn’t know how much, or when.

  Anxious to escape the toxic rehearsal space, Marc answered an advertisement in The Georgia Straight and found the best spot the band would ever have. Even the space owned by the old man who urged the boys to “get ‘er done” and cost only a case of beer a month couldn’t compete with the new joint on West 7th Avenue and Columbia. With panoramic windows facing the glittering lights of downtown, the spot had offices on both sides that could be used for storage or other band-related activities. In a pinch, tired or drunken musicians could even crash in those offices, provided the amplified roar didn’t bother them. The rent was very reasonable, and the space was big enough to use as a venue, but the new tenants valued the spot so much that they resisted the temptation.

  Things were looking up slightly for SNFU, but the Wheat Chiefs were done. Bunt was tired of handling the managerial work alone, and no longer wanted to continue. Even Marc, who wasn’t booking the tours or doing the paperwork, had to admit that it took too much effort to keep two bands going. Now SNFU was the sole focus of his life, which was worrisome in itself.

  Anxious to move on, SNFU accepted offers in Calgary and Edmonton, even dropping down to smaller markets such as Banff or Jasper when they could. The summer went by, and though the band rehearsed regularly, they did not concentrate on writing new material. “Those guys liked playing live, and they didn’t seem to care about much else,” says Sean Stubbs. Marc Belke claims that Sean never seemed very motivated and learned only the bare minimum necessary to get by. “He was a nice guy and a good drummer, but he didn’t have the commitment we needed.” Like a leaf on the wind the band drifted, willing to let fate carry them wherever it would.

  Although new songs were not coming quickly, it was at this time that the band penned the hugely powerful “Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump,” which was unlike anything SNFU had written before in terms of hook-driven intensity and massive catchiness. While Chi Pig’s lyrics again incorporated his love of pop culture and did not address societal ills, his tongue-in-cheek delivery and forceful style more than made up for any so-called shortcomings. At this late stage in their career, SNFU had entered a bold new world. But was it too late?

  Even this aural gem might not have helped any of the Epitaph records had it been included. As always, SNFU was just a step or two removed from mainstream sensibilities. Marc Belke wanted to be successful, but he was proud of SNFU’s unique sound nonetheless. “I loved that about SNFU, and I loved that about Chi,” says the guitarist. “Some of the things he did onstage embarrassed me, but there was nobody like him at all.”

  Other material also emerged, but at a snail’s pace. “Cheap Transistor Radio” slowly took shape, as did “Elaine Elaine.” Some songs were changed later, and others underwent structural modifications. “Birdman Of Malmo” and “Hole In Your Soul” gradually appeared, although they would undergo many alterations. “We didn’t have one particular method of writing, and songs came together in many different ways,” says Muc. “One day Chi came in humming the melody for ‘Hole In Your Soul’ and Rob wrote the music for it. Essentially, it’s a folk song, even though Chi says it isn’t.” Other songs were merely embryos that would take a long time to develop. Although Marc Belke liked writing all the guitar parts himself, and was excited to be the sole guitarist, he isn’t sure why it took so long to assemble new material. He and Renée were going through some rough times, and he couldn’t find the inspiration he needed. In fact, SNFU would not release their next album until 2004, a full five years down the road.

  For now, SNFU languished without a record deal, and it was clear that Peter Karroll would not be able to find them one. The frustrated manager finally quit in the summer of ‘98, telling SNFU that they “thought they were bigger than they were.” “That was probably true,” muses Marc, “but that wasn’t a very cool thing for him to say.” Exit Peter Karroll.

  SNFU needed another manager, and into the fray jumped Calgarian Nhaelan McMillan, who had promoted many SNFU shows over the years. Like Peter Karroll, Nhaelan felt he could help SNFU, but he spoke the same language the band did. More importantly, the man was willing to accept a job that no one else wanted. The older members of SNFU would never admit it, but they were all suffering from clinical depression. Nhaelan was here to chase the blues away.

  Before Nhaelan could actually do anything, the band embarked on a mini-tour across Canada in August. While Sean Stubbs did not have the power or speed of Dave Rees, SNFU sounded reasonably good and the new songs they’d written showed an increased maturity. Still, the band continued to suffer from the loss of Dave and Brent. Until they could grow fully into their new roles, the remaining members could only hope that fans would cut them some slack.

  No tour was without at least one heart-stopping moment. In Regina, a member of Choke gave Chi Pig a canister of camping fuel that he ignited onstage. “It didn’t really explode, but it created a massive flame that went right to the ceiling. I was fucking scared,” remembers Marc. To make things worse, the towel Chi used to extinguish the blaze also caught fire. Alarms went off, causing pandemonium in the little club. Having escaped a fiery Great White death, SNFU moved on to a stinker in Winnipeg, leaving town the same night en route to Ontario. Since they couldn’t even afford a fire extinguisher, Chi’s fellow bandmates warned him to watch the pyrotechnics. The singer still didn’t see a problem.

  Simon Head recorded “Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump” and “
Cheap Transistor Radio” at his home studio on Queen Street when the band stopped in Toronto. Although SNFU had also recorded these songs with Sean Stubbs in Vancouver, these were of a slightly higher quality, and they hoped that Aquarius Records in Montreal might like what they heard. Although Aquarius had helped to develop Bif Naked—who was selling plenty of records these days—nothing became of the demo, and it was clear that the mainstream was not interested in anything that SNFU had to offer. Punk was out of vogue again.

  The band occasionally attended NHL games courtesy of whatever hockey player wanted to comp them free tickets. “When we were in Ottawa, Marc called Brendan Witt from the Washington Capitals, and Brendan told Marc that tickets would be waiting for us at the door,” recalls Rob Johnson. Electrician’s helpers and line cooks never received free hockey tickets, but punk musicians sometimes did. SNFU didn’t pay all that well, but the fringe benefits were good.

  The tour moved west, and half-full venues across the prairies were in sharp contrast to dates in Edmonton and Calgary, which were always decent. Rob remembers that they would turn their backs to don Kiss masks during the slow part on “Cheap Transistor Radio.” When they turned around again, Chi Pig was Paul Stanley, Muc was Ace Frehley, and Rob was Gene Simmons. Poor old Sean Stubbs was too new to get a Peter Criss mask. “It was a good schtick,” says Rob. SNFU returned to Vancouver after a few more stops, but not as wealthy men.

  Winter arrived, and so did the rain. The musicians kept busy with work and with life, getting together twice a week to practice. They no longer rehearsed every day, and the band was not the tightest it had ever been. Despite that, both Marc and Rob grew as musicians, pushing themselves to make up for the absence of Brent and Dave. Sean played his parts well enough, but Rob had to work harder to keep the rhythm section solid. Sean says that he was still waiting to see which direction SNFU would go, but new songs were not appearing. He couldn’t see how the band would be worth his effort unless they recorded a new album.

  One day while shopping at a popular skate/surf shop on West 4th Street, Dave “Rave” Ogilvie asked employee Jay McMann for assistance. Jay, who played guitar for the industrial metal band Ocean 3, was excited to learn that Dave was trying to buy a gift for Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. The eager employee steered Dave towards something that Reznor might not have already—a deluxe snowboard with all the accessories. The pair also talked about the local music scene, and Jay gave Dave an Ocean 3 demo tape. At the time, Dave was in charge of the rehearsal space on West 7th and Columbia, and although it didn’t happen overnight, he soon invited the band to share the space. The gifted young members of Ocean 3 took up residence at West 7th and soon became friends with SNFU. Not only would their drummer Shane Smith and bassist Matt Warhurst feature prominently in the renaissance of SNFU, but Matt Warhurst would also play bass on what may very well be the band’s finest moment, the outstanding 2004 release, In the Meantime and In Between Time.

  The members of Ocean 3 had plenty of aptitude, but they struggled to find a sound that suited them all. While the musicians may not have been exactly of the same mindset, Marc Belke was able to appreciate what he was hearing. “I remember Muc playing along quietly while Ocean 3 rehearsed,” says guitarist Jay Black. “One time, Marc jokingly asked if we needed another player in the band.” While that never happened, most of the guys in Ocean 3 would indeed play with Marc Belke.

  Life at the new rehearsal spot was fine and dandy, but SNFU needed to tour. “I lived for it,” says Muc. “There’s an element of escapism when you’re on the road. You’re not worrying about bills or the monotony of day-to-day existence.” Although tours weren’t as lucrative as they’d once been, they weren’t as stressful either, and in late October of 1998, the band took a run down the West Coast into the States. Muc brought his ¾ size acoustic guitar and spent hours playing it on the road. While Marc was familiar with every aspect of touring, his allergies continued to bother him. The guitarist wasn’t eating properly, and his body was sending him a message. These problems would only worsen over time.

  Reaching Seattle, Chi Pig ramped up his love of pyrotechnics to include the audience, using lamp oil to start fires on the forearms of volunteers. Most of the oil burned off instantly, but the singer kept a wet towel handy in case something should go wrong. Later in the show, Chi ran out of volunteers and poured lamp oil on Rob Johnson’s back, drawing the attention of Sub-Zero employee Michael Hanson, who saw the musician burst into flames. “I took four long strides with my drink, and another big step onto the stage to put out the blaze. The whole room smelled like burnt hair for the rest of the night,” says Hanson. After the show, the other members tried to warn Chi that his games could end in tragedy, but the singer refused to let them spoil the fun.

  The gig in Portland was okay but not great. In Reno for Halloween, fans wore costumes, but every day was Halloween for Chi Pig, who hit the stage wearing a clown suit with floppy shoes, which he soon lit on fire. San Francisco was decent, and at least SNFU was still on speaking terms with Epitaph, who put them on a good bill in LA. After that, the band moved inland again for a show in Salt Lake City, where Chi’s pyro antics almost landed them in serious trouble. At the show that night, a frightened kid jumped off the stage and ran away before the flames on his arm burned off completely. Later, the other guys reminded Chi that they could be sued for damages. Bad Religion had recently settled out of court with a fan who was struck in the eye by a drumstick hurled from the stage. This time, Chi finally saw their point and agreed to lay off the fire.

  The band continued east. Des Moines was surprisingly good, as was St Louis, where they opened for the Suicidal Tendencies at the Galaxy on November 14th. Cleveland with Gang Green was decent, but there were also plenty of stinkers. New York, of course, was awful, making the guys wonder why they even bothered. From there, SNFU motored up the East Coast through Providence and Boston, crossing into Canada at Montreal. Some things never changed, and the show at Les Foufounes Électriques was as great as New York was bad. In Quebec City, the band ran into trouble when the venue wanted them to play three sets. “We tried everything we could to stretch the material, but Sean didn’t know enough of our songs,” Marc recalls. “That was kind of embarrassing.” The band wasn’t asked to play three sets at any of the remaining venues on the tour.

  Sean Stubbs remembers sharing hotel rooms with Chi Pig, who never slept under the covers, but rolled his sleeping bag out on top of them, surrounded by his toys. When the singer did sleep in the room, which was rare, he wore a mask to blot out any light. Chi was still drinking a lot of cough syrup, and it wasn’t doing much for his teeth, nor were the Rothmans cigarettes that he smoked by the carton. “Chi seemed like such a train wreck in regular life, but he’s like a boxer and he’d come to life half an hour before a show, doing stretches and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He’d just turn on the charm and it would be showtime. Chi never fucked up,” says Stubbs.

  Instead of returning home through the Canadian prairies, SNFU headed across the American Midwest. A good number of the dates were dismally attended, causing the bandmembers to question their sanity again. Chi Pig regularly stayed awake all night drawing or writing in the cold blue light of the television. Following one of these marathon sessions, he would sleep like a dead man in the van, often for sixteen hours or more. “We literally had to give him a shake once in a while just to make sure he was still alive,” recalls Sean Stubbs. The drummer also claims that Chi Pig and Marc Belke began to bicker like “an old married couple” after three or four weeks on the road. The next day, no matter how nasty they’d been to each other, everything would be back to normal. Marc can’t recall anything like that, claiming that he generally kept his thoughts to himself. “I avoid confrontation like crazy, that’s my style. The lack of communication made everything bigger than it should have been, and that’s why SNFU broke up the first time.” The guys finally crossed back into Canada from Montana and stayed at the Belkes while Earl Grey received
a much-needed overhaul.

  Before long, the boys were back in Vancouver, where they considered various offers to play out of town. Some of the guarantees didn’t seem worthwhile to Sean Stubbs, who made more money in the city. “I had to balance how much we would make with how much I’d lose, so I was definitely doing some whining,” the drummer recalls. None of this pleased Muc, who still maintained that Sean wasn’t committed enough. Marc went home to Edmonton for Christmas, but the boys talked about recording new material when he returned. Unfortunately, they would have to pay for production costs out of pocket, and Cargo Canada was not around to help with distribution. In fact, Cargo had filed for bankruptcy in 1997, owing many record labels a great deal of money. Epitaph alone lost more than a half million dollars.

  Cargo might not have been of much help anyway, and there wasn’t much point in having a new album without distribution. Also, because everything SNFU did had to be strictly DIY, they couldn’t find the motivation necessary to start work for real. The impasse seemed impossible to breach.

  SNFU ushered in the New Year with a show at the Starfish Room that ended in the usual sticky mess. Marc and Rob, meanwhile, were improving steadily, and were better musicians than they had ever been. Despite this, Sean Stubbs was no Dave Rees, and the band still wasn’t as tight as it had been in the Epitaph years. Perhaps because of this, Chi was trying harder than ever to entertain. Stepping up his use of stage props and gimmicks, the singer seemed to be singlehandedly trying to make up for the loss of Dave and Brent. Unfortunately, he didn’t jump quite so high these days, and the cigarettes he chain-smoked hadn’t done much for his stamina. The boys battled on, waiting for the next break.