Snfu

by Chris Walter

  Aside from jamming with Muc, Rob was also working on a rap parody project at Studio X, where Sean Stubbs was employed. The bassist had always been a rap fan, and had his own spin on the genre. Remember, the Belkes themselves had ventured into rap (also in a satirical manner) with The Belke Boys. “It was just something I liked to do for fun, and none if it was meant to be taken seriously,” says Rob. He went by the tag “Freshbread,” and opened for SNFU on occasion to mixed reaction. The moniker Freshbread implied that the white rapper was always “freshly baked,” which was only half-true.

  SNFU finally started to record again. With the encouragement of Nhaelan, they began pre-production work at Studio X for the album that would even-tually become In The Meantime and In Between Time. Although Sean liked the enthusiastic McMillan, the two often butted heads in the studio. “Nhaelan had all sorts of suggestions that would have wasted time we didn’t have, and I had to fight to keep it simple,” says Stubbs. Of the five or six songs recorded, only two would appear on the next album. “The demos from this session didn’t come out so great,” acknowledges Rob Johnson, without going into particulars. A great many obstacles stood between the band and the release of their next album.

  Nhaelan may not have been a studio whiz, but he always organized the best Alberta shows. In the summer of ‘99, SNFU and LAMS (another band Nhaelan was currently managing), played for a large, enthusiastic crowd at Red’s Rec Room in Edmonton before moving on to Calgary for another crowded show. The Back Alley, which was described to Marc as being “the cheesiest type of bar imaginable,” generally hosted Top Forty rock bands, but SNFU always packed the place to capacity. “We got huge guarantees, and we’d ask for the most ridiculous riders,” remembers Starbuck.“We’d get to the show and there’d be tons of booze and food.” The boys left Calgary with LAMS (which originally stood for “lack of mental stability”) for two well-attended nights at the Athabasca Hotel in Jasper. Chris Thompson, who drummed for LAMS, would soon fit handily into the SNFU story.

  The pinch of poverty wasn’t quite as sharp when the boys returned home with pockets full of cash. Soon SNFU was on the move again, travelling to Vancouver Island for shows in Nanaimo and Victoria. They also visited Kamloops, where they were supported by ex-Desperate Minds, PIM. Like the DayGlo Abortions, who were also playing these secondary markets, SNFU knew there was money in them thar hills.

  The band revisited Alberta in late August for a gig at the Polish Hall, which was still available for shows after all these years. SNFU’s original fans were fully grown now, with offspring old enough to listen to punk rock. While some of those fans brought their kids to the shows, most had settled into quiet lives that did not involve mosh pits. Younger punks, fortunately, were there to carry the torch and buy shirts.

  Still, while shows in Alberta and British Columbia were great, they were not enough to sustain the band. This was problematic for Sean Stubbs, who did not wish to depend on macaroni and cheese for nourishment. He couldn’t see a future with SNFU, and his disassociation was particularly apparent to Muc. When Marc voiced his concerns to Nhaelan, the manager told him that Chris Thompson AKA Corporal Ninny from LAMS would be ready to step in if they fired Stubbs. “Sean was tired of getting home after being gone for a month with only a hundred bucks in his pocket,” Rob explains. “He was making more money with his other projects in Vancouver, so I couldn’t blame him.”

  In short order, Muc gave Sean the news. A bit shocked, Sean phoned Rob, who hoped that the firing wouldn’t create a conflict between them at Studio X, where Rob was recording free of charge thanks to Sean. Luckily, Sean was able to put the matter behind him fairly quickly. He had other irons in the fire, and SNFU was not the sole focus of his life. While Rob was glad that Sean wasn’t angry, he agreed with Marc that they needed a new drummer who would commit.

  Almost more than they needed a drummer, SNFU needed a record deal. Having approached every punk label around without success, SNFU was still in no position to make an album. Alternative Tentacles had agreed to release an EP of previously recorded material, but weren’t about to sign SNFU to the label. These problems made it difficult for the band to gain any sort of traction.

  Even without a label, they needed a drummer, and Chris Thompson of LAMS was eager to join the fold. Although LAMS had been around for five years, SNFU was on an entirely different level, and he couldn’t wait to make the leap. Cramming his stickerencrusted drum kit into his tiny Honda hatchback, he made the long drive across the mountains to Vancouver, slowing to a crawl as he ascended the steep Coquihalla Pass. “I remember the trip as being cathartic,” says Thompson. “I went back to settle my affairs and grab my stuff later, but I was leaving Edmonton for good.”

  Chris reached Vancouver and the band got to work. As far as percussionists went, Chris was faster and more powerful than Sean was, but Sean had better metre. While the new guy did his best to make up for his shortage of professional skill with plenty of willingness, he had a tough hill to climb and the work did not always come easily. “I knew most of the old stuff, but the Epitaph records were another story. The band had a lot of songs and I had to learn them all,” recalls Thompson of his crash course in SNFU 101.

  All the same, the guys had been in this place before, and they were not afraid to practice until their fingers bled. They wanted to be out on the road playing shows, so it was important to break the new drummer in fast. In less than a month, although Chris still had much to learn, the principal members deemed the band fit to tour. As financially unrewarding as the last few American outings had been, they decided to make another run down the West Coast, mostly because there was nowhere else to go. Alberta and BC could be mined only so often, and it was time to give that market a break. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and other applicable clichés.

  Chris Thompson jumped into Earl Grey, fresh-faced and full of enthusiasm. Chris, of course, hadn’t always been a punk drummer, having spent his formative years with a bunch of “greasy, French-Canadian headbangers” in Orleans, a suburb of Ottawa. By 1986, however, bands such as the Exploited, Discharge, and the English Dogs slowly replaced Slayer, Metallica, and Exodus. “Pretty soon all the greasy, French-Canadian headbangers had mohawks and studded leather jackets,” Chris recalls. He first saw SNFU in 1987 at a hall show in Ottawa, but didn’t see them again until moving to Edmonton in time for their “final” gig at the Polish Hall in September of 1989. Unwilling to be a street punk on welfare, Chris joined the Armed Forces as a reservist and did a tour of duty in Croatia before forming LAMS in 1994 with three friends. “Basically, I joined the reserves because I didn’t want the Army telling me where I had to fucking live. It must have been the punk rocker in me,” he explains, as if it were normal for punks to join the military. Lucky for him, punk has no rules.

  As well as playing locally, LAMS made the Alberta/BC circuit, taking their noisy brand of punk rock to such world-renowned establishments as the Athabasca Hotel in Jasper, among others. Since Nhaelan also managed LAMS, it was his idea that the younger band accompany SNFU on tour. LAMS wasn’t exactly a huge draw, so they were happy to tag along with a band that was. Afterwards, Chris was shocked when Nhaelan asked him if he could drum with SNFU for a tour of the American West Coast. He agreed immediately, and wasn’t worried about leaving his bandmates in the lurch because he didn’t think the spot would be permanent. He was wrong.

  Moving south down the coast, SNFU landed in the usual places, where Chris Thompson made his bones as the drummer for one of Canada’s most enduring and respected punk bands. He hesitates when asked if the band sounded good at those first few shows. “I had to try really hard, but they would tell me if I wasn’t playing a song the way they wanted me to. I didn’t have much artistic freedom,” he recalls. Chris goes on to say that the veteran members of the group weren’t the most welcoming bunch in the world. “I really had the feeling that I just wasn’t cool enough for them.”

  Chris remembers an all-ages show in the small town of Anderson, Cali
fornia. “There was no stage, and we had to put cinder blocks in front of my kick drum because I forgot my rug, but the kids just went off!” Everyone was surprised that the community centre was so well-attended and lively, especially when they’d been expecting the place to empty. Not that Anderson would always be great. Those same kids would probably be jaded by the time SNFU returned.

  Muc remembers arriving in San Francisco, dirty, tired, and hungry. “Nhaelan flew in to meet us at the show, but I just couldn’t get into it that night. I made it through the set, but that was one of the few times that I really didn’t want to be onstage. Nhaelan was all freaked out because it was so obvious that I could care less.” At this point, it was too late for the man to wonder if perhaps he’d made a mistake. This was a side of SNFU he’d never seen.

  The show in Monterey, California was adjacent to Fort Ord, where Chris had taken basic training. “It was kind of weird to be so close to Fort Ord, but under such different circumstances,” the drummer recalls. Nhaelan, who talked animatedly as he drove, regularly veered out of his lane onto the warning strips. “After a while, we started calling them ‘McMillan Strips,’ because he hit them so often,” Rob Johnson laughs. The band still calls them “McMillan Strips.”

  The boys landed in LA for a dud at the Whisky A Go Go. Chris Thompson and Rob Johnson both agree that the gig was terrible. The band stayed with friends in LA, and saw a Dodgers game. Although things improved over time, Chris’ assimilation into the band wasn’t particularly easy. It didn’t help that he wasn’t a sports fan. While Chi could have cared less about hockey or baseball, he didn’t have to worry about fitting in. “I could drink a beer and eat a dog while watching a ball game, but I’ve never apologized for not being a jock,” says Chris. “Watching soccer is like watching paint dry.” So much for stereotypes of sports-loving soldiers.

  SNFU stopped for another dud in the small town of Golita, California. A band known as the Model Citizens had driven up from San Diego for the show, and they were practically the only people present. “It was a Wednesday night or something, and the place was empty, but SNFU was awesome,” says Model Citizens’ singer Doc Chiodo. The guys in SNFU had no way of knowing it, but the Model Citizens would later be extremely helpful.

  Hotel rooms were rare on this tour, and the band mostly relied on the many friends and contacts they’d made over the years. SNFU knew people everywhere and almost always found someone who was willing to put them up. The band tore through Phoenix and Flagstaff like a punk rock hurricane before reaching Albuquerque for an ultra stinker. There was no promotion, no posters, no one knew who they were, and only twenty people were present to see them play. “It was a complete disaster, and Marc had to strong arm them to get paid anything,” says Chris. Accomplished collectors, Marc and Rob could squeeze money from even the most reluctant, half-assed promoter.

  SNFU moved through the cursed Midwest, stopping in Denver where the turnout was uncharacteristically poor. The venue was only half-full at best, but one of the guys from the Descendents came out to watch the show. While Chris confesses that he screwed up a few times, he claims to have improved as time went on. Like Sean Stubbs, he was attempting to fill some very large shoes, and the job could not have been easy. “I’d only been in basement bands up to that point, so it was a bit challenging,” Chris admits. At times, Marc Belke could be as harsh as any drill sergeant at Fort Ord.

  The band pushed on, eventually reaching the East Coast before popping back into Canada via Montreal. Although he will always remember his first tour with SNFU, Chris was a little relieved when they made it home to Vancouver in late September. Rob Johnson also recalls the trip, but not in a good way. “That was a really bad tour. We didn’t have an album, and we didn’t have a label.” Chris and Nhaelan, who weren’t with the band in the Epitaph years, didn’t know that touring had been much more comfortable in the past. “At least we had fun playing live,” adds Rob. “If you don’t like playing, you shouldn’t be in a band.”

  A week after they got home, Chris Thompson was stunned when Nhaelan asked him if he wanted to join SNFU on a full-time basis. “I didn’t really feel that I was part of the ‘team,’ if you want to throw a sports metaphor in there,” says the drummer, remembering his surprise. Nevertheless, he quickly accepted the offer and made plans to relocate. After finding an apartment not far from Marc’s place in the West End, Chris traded vehicles with the guitarist and drove back to Edmonton in Earl Grey to collect his belongings in October of 1999.

  The transition was not as smooth as it could have been. Because Chris worked as a reservist, and wasn’t as serious about music as Chi Pig and Muc were, the drummer didn’t get all the practice he needed. Nonetheless, the band played a snowboard competition at BC Place in mid-November with the mainstream radio band Len, and rapper Tone Loc headlining. The show was sponsored by the skateboard clothing shop Etnies, and the SNFU members wore clothing bearing the Etnies logo. “I kind of had to wonder what sort of band I’d joined. I looked like such a doofus, but at least the clothes were free,” laughs Thompson.

  Meanwhile, Nhaelan was beginning to realize just how difficult his new job would be. He tried but failed to squeeze money from Eric Goodis at Cargo headquarters in the USA. He was also unable to free SNFU from their contract with Cargo, which would have allowed the band to re-release the two albums on that label. Everywhere Nhaelan turned he encountered one hitch or another. After sixteen years in the music business and multiple label changes, SNFU’s legal affairs were a complicated mess that would have frustrated even the canniest of lawyers. Like others before him, Nhaelan ran into so many brick walls and cul-de-sacs that he would eventually give up. Instead, he began to focus on other aspects of SNFU such as bookings and tour arrangements. “We started to call him ‘Flailin’ Nhaelan’ after a while,” laughs Starbuck.

  In November, since they were sharing the same practice space, SNFU did a mini-tour with Ocean 3. The two bands played a gig in Golden, British Columbia before moving into Alberta for a date at the Back Alley in Calgary. “That was the biggest crowd we’d ever played for, and we were all shitting bricks. We were opening for SNFU, but we weren’t a punk band at all,” relates drummer Shane Smith. “Some people didn’t get it, but I think overall we did okay.” Technically, any gig in which the band escapes alive can be considered a “success.”

  Both groups had Saturday night off, but Muc found a show for Ocean 3 at a smaller venue, which turned out to be a waste of time. “They totally hated us,” laughs Matt Warhurst. “I don’t think we made any money at all.” The two bands also had Sunday off, but the biggest show of the tour was in Edmonton at The Rev on Monday night. Although SNFU were scheduled to headline, they surrendered the slot to the middle-billed Samhain, whose van had broken down outside Banff. The exhausted members of Samhain arrived just in time to play, struggling mightily to get through their set. Feeling good about themselves for doing the right thing, SNFU made the long drive back to Vancouver the next day, traversing the icy Coquihalla Highway with extreme caution. One mistake on these treacherous roads could easily be fatal.

  Christmas arrived, and Marc went home to Edmonton. Because Brent was also there with Mina, the brothers spent more time together than they did at home in Vancouver. Well-fed and somewhat rested, the three returned to Vancouver a week later and went their separate ways. For Marc, it was still strange to be playing without Brent, but his brother was doing all right for himself and wasn’t interested in returning to the fold. No doubt, Brent’s success in the straight world must have caused Muc to contemplate his own lack of motivation for anything that wasn’t band-related. There was always plenty of time for self-reflection, and the guitarist did more than his share.

  Another round of shows in BC and Alberta heralded the arrival of the year 2000. When Y2K failed to shut down the main power grid, SNFU rehearsed for the rest of January while Nhaelan solidified plans for the next Canada-wide tour. Although the band wasn’t sounding too bad, Muc remembered telling himself
that he would quit when the Epitaph line-up changed. Now that time had arrived, but instead of pulling the plug, he was preparing for another tour. “I still believed that all we needed was one good record, but we were chasing something that was never going to happen,” says the guitarist, recalling that particular insanity.

  The spring tour of 2000 was not especially joyous, even if they did make enough money in BC and Alberta to carry them through the barrens of Saskatchewan and Manitoba. The show in Toronto was only passable, and it seemed that maybe Montreal wasn’t as lively as usual. Perhaps they were worried that even this loyal SNFU stronghold might someday dry up, and it didn’t help when they had a new drummer who had never even met Jon Card. The tour rolled on, down the coast into Boston, Trenton, Providence, and that old stinker, New York. Soon they were back in Canada, tired and not much richer. Chris “Corporal Ninny” Thompson was learning that life on the road with SNFU was not about playing video games and snorting blow in the back of a tour bus.

  Home in Vancouver for the summer, Muc continued to feel conflicted. He felt he should be going to school or learning some sort of trade, but he still couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do. “A guy that I was working with laughed and asked me why it took me so long to figure out that I wasn’t going to be a rock star. I’d never even looked at it that way before.” Marc was also becoming more frustrated with Chi Pig. “He would give 100% onstage, but you couldn’t get him to do any promotion. He’d just say that he didn’t want to ‘brag about his band.’” Although Marc was proud of SNFU’s “quirkiness,” he also felt that it kept them from succeeding on a larger scale. A rock and a hard place.

  In the spring of 2000, Marc and Renée finally broke up. It was very difficult for anyone who spent as much time on the road as Marc did to maintain a functional relationship, but it hurt to lose someone he’d been with for so long, even if she was unfaithful. “After I caught her making out with her boss the second time, I told her I was leaving,” Marc remembers. Apparently, once wasn’t enough.