Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (12 page)

The gig that night, which featured the Angry Samoans, Flipper, Fang, and the DayGlo Abortions, was nothing extra-special for San Francisco, but it meant a good deal to the DayGlos. They had to get the word out to Americans if they wanted to sell records. Because of the population difference, the punk scene in the States was much larger than anything happening in Canada, and it was essential for Canadian bands to reach that market. More importantly, it was a kick to do shows with the great American hardcore bands and play larger, wilder shows. At any rate, with the local media on hand to report and review, San Francisco seemed like the big time. This was heady stuff for the DayGlos and they felt as if they had truly arrived. Could sumptuous deli trays and free cocaine be far off? Not that they cared deeply about such things, but free stuff was always good.

The DayGlos wanted to see the sights in LA, but Spud had to return to work. The band would have loved to play the infamous Cathay de Grande and, though Fang’s bass player offered to take Spud’s place, that didn’t happen.

Instead, Spud flew back to Victoria, and the DayGlos continued without him, stopping in Santa Monica to drink beer on a beach. Eventually, the group pulled themselves away and got back into the van. The other musicians, who already had base tans, didn’t fare quite so badly, but Cretin, who was punk rock, fish belly white, suffered terribly. “Everyone was a little sunburnt, but Cretin was particularly red—the poor guy was like a lobster,” Rancid Randy recalls. Even out of the sun, the frontman’s skin continued to turn a deeper shade of red. “He had a second-degree burn,” Randy remembers, wincing.

After driving for hours on the freeway, the band arrived in Hermosa Beach to visit a girl that Cretin and Bonehead knew. Cretin, who was in great pain, screamed when September smeared him with lotion. He could barely raise his arm to drink beer. Sometime during the evening, a stranger came over and smoked a joint that Rancid Randy suspects was laced with PCP. Not just that, but the host’s boyfriend wasn’t happy with the invasion of punk rockers, and his friends were tough-looking locals. “It was a bad night, really,” recalls Randy of the short stay.

In the morning, the host took her guests to a neighbourhood bar to have a few drinks for breakfast. “She was leading the way on her little Vespa, almost crashing into everything. She was fucked up on drugs,” remembers Randy. Somehow, they all arrived safely at the bar. Bonehead used a pay phone to call home, and learned that their good friend and ex-Airborne bass player Stephen Andres had drowned in Thetis Lake the day before. This was the final straw for the demoralized DayGlo Abortions and, although they had planned to visit Hollywood, the group returned to Victoria to grieve. There would be other Californian tours, but there would never be another Stephen Andres.

Life went on for the DayGlo Abortions. Although the band would lose many friends over the years to drug overdoses, murders, or suicides, Stephen’s death hit them hard because he was so close. The musicians didn’t like to be reminded that they were mortal. Not just that, but after the excitement of California their hometown of Victoria seemed smaller than ever. Spud and Bonehead were restless and irritable. They wanted to make like the Ramones and leave home.

Spud, who hated his superiors at the shipyard with a deep and abiding passion, attended work only sporadically. His superiors accused him of making his co-workers look lazy by performing duties to which he wasn’t assigned. Spud couldn’t stand such bureaucratic nonsense and claims he was only trying to keep busy. The bassist dreamed of quitting but didn’t want to run out of beer money so he continued to show up occasionally in order to collect a cheque. Bonehead was also unhappy with life in general, and both he and Spud yearned to tour. Unfortunately, several obstacles stood in their way, not the least of which was the fact that Cretin did not intend to leave Victoria. He was a man with a plan, and his plan did not involve moving.

A Vancouver gig with The Exploited was a pleasing diversion, but it made Spud and Bonehead even more anxious to hit the highway. “We got in a massive food fight with The Exploited backstage, and they were one of the only bands who gave as good as they got,” recalls Cretin. Food fun aside, the frontman steadfastly refused to cooperate with his bandmates. He could not be budged.

The singer, who was still building electronic gadgets for Defence Research Establishment Pacific, planned to keep his job. Despite a prodigious appetite for liquor and drugs, he rose early each morning and dragged himself to work. To this day, Cretin insists that beer and pot are good for general health and that everyone should partake. “Your liver can process at least a six-pack a day. The good stuff in beer outweighs the bad things by far,” claims the singer. Not only did he have a job, but on December 23rd 1984, September MacIntosh gave birth to their son, Justin. Interestingly, abortion was never a consideration for the young couple. So, while the rest of the DayGlos stewed and fretted, Cretin continued to fulfill his obligations as a family man. Punk rock did not pay the bills, and the bandleader now had mouths to feed.

Despite this problem, Spud and Bonehead did not completely abandon all hope. Perhaps if they kept trying, The Cretin could be convinced to relocate. Couldn’t September take care of the child by herself? Sadly, even after more pleading, the obstinate frontman would not give in. “I don’t just go along and do what everyone wants me to do—I do what
I
want to do,” explains the singer, for those who might not have figured that out already. Not only did Cretin want to stay put, but he also felt that his work might eventually further his music career. He was learning about digital signal processing, the technology that would later be used to create mp3s. Even in the early 80s, the singer/lab tech felt strongly that music would eventually go digital. “If I could have found some venture capital, I’d be a millionaire fifty times over,” Acton speculates. Maybe so, but would the singer still have found time to write “Proud to be a Canadian”? Most corporate executives are not known for their ability to write stellar punk rock songs.

Under these less than ideal conditions, the DayGlo Abortions continued to play locally whenever they could, taking an occasional trip to Vancouver on weekends. Because
Out of the Womb
had long since sold out, Fringe Product wanted the band to re-release the album. However, Cretin had new songs that he wanted to record. A compromise was eventually reached in which the band would cut a new album that included both new material as well as the best songs from
Out of the Womb,
which was most of them. With Fringe Product footing the bill, the DayGlo Abortions returned to Legacy Studios in February of 1985 to cut the new record. This time, rather than bring Nick Jones in again, Tony Moskal and the DayGlo Abortions would produce the record themselves. Tony had learned much since the DayGlos released their first LP, and the engineer/producer was eager for the project. Though such cost-saving devices often lead to disaster,
Feed Us a Fetus
would be an exception to the rule. Very few engineers could have done as good a job in such a short time, especially with such a limited budget.

At any rate, the band went straight to work, laying down the bed tracks with the speed and efficiency of master craftsmen. Although the DayGlos clowned around plenty while rehearsing at Metropol, this was work and they were determined to make the best album they could. Spud and Bonehead were happy to take a step forward, but they still wanted to move to Vancouver. They arrived at the studio each day, wishing that the recording would last a little longer. The drummer and the bass player didn’t want to live like normal people. Why wouldn’t Cretin help them rule the world?

The bandleader may not have wanted to tour, but his songwriting skills were sharper than ever, and it was during this period that Cretin penned some of the group’s most popular and beloved songs. “Inside My Head” outlines the DayGlo mandate, and Cretin promises “We are here to relieve the boredom.” The song helps prepare listeners for the intentionally dumbed-down “Stupid Songs,” which is a glorious exercise in simplicity, brilliant in its execution. With its self-depreciating title and deliberately vacant lyrics, “Stupid Songs” is as unpretentious as they come. One would never guess that it was written by a guitar virtuoso with a degree in electronics:

When I sing songs, I sing about what I know

But I don’t know too much, so I don’t sing about nothing

I get my words from reading TV Guide

I steal all my solos from The Rolling Stones.

Though many listeners would take the song literally, Acton is not referring to his own life, and is actually making a statement about modern society and popular music. The singer has never subscribed to
TV Guide,
and his guitar solos owe much more to Sabbath than they do The Rolling Stones. Regardless, the catchy chorus and machine-gun delivery made the song a classic piece of punk rock that has endured the test of time.

Another track, “Proud to be a Canadian,” would soon become an anthem for kids all across the land of hosers and beer. The song is so offensive that even devoted fans could scarcely believe what they were hearing. How could any band be so blatantly sexist and racist? Only the DayGlo Abortions could write these lyrics:

I’m proud to be a Canadian. Pass me another Eskimo

I’m proud to be a Canadian. Hold my seat while I fuck her up the asshole.

With just one little verse, Cretin was able to alienate all but the most hardcore of punk fans. It was, in other words, a stroke of pure genius—never mind that his main intention was to break societal norms and shock squares. Though the singer deliberately pushed buttons that few dared to push, he is probably less racist or sexist than many of his contemporaries. Whose fault was it if people took his lyrics seriously? Would anyone listen if he sang love songs? The Cretin had a vision for the DayGlo Abortions, and it did not involve puppy dogs or rainbows.

“Argh Fuck Kill,” the song inspired by musician/critic Alex Varty, is another obvious standout. On this track, Acton takes minimalism to new heights, and instead of using traditional lyrics, he sings “blah blah blah” where the verse should be, and “argh, fuck, kill” for the chorus. Rather than sounding lazy, it is clear that Cretin is taking aim at vacant and meaningless rock lyrics. For all they are saying, most bands might as well employ Cretin’s words. “Argh Fuck Kill” is also musically innovative, employing minor chords combined with Ramones-like simplicity to give the number a jagged feel, as if the song rather than the singer is impaired. The title fairly begs for someone to write a book by that name. Thank you, Mr. Varty.

Despite having a completely different set of moral values, Cretin’s big sister Saskia provided the “Brahms Lullaby” piano intro to “Bedtime Story.” Cretin was grateful that his sibling would contribute to the project. “The rest of my family is super straight. They don’t understand where I’m coming from at all,” reiterates the frontman, who gives few people credit for being able to “see inside his head.”

“Wake Up America” is a mild stab at our aggressive neighbours to the south, but Cretin is well aware that Canada is not far behind the USA when it comes to consumerism and greed. The song was destined to become very unpopular with at least one group of unjustifiably-patriotic American skinheads. Another song, “Dogfarts” is a silly little ditty that shows the playful side of Murray Acton. It was almost as if he included the song just to let people know that he wasn’t the horrible monster some thought he was. Still, anyone who has smelled a dog fart knows that such a thing is no laughing matter. “Inside My Head,” described earlier, is the next song on the album, and comes charging out of the gates like an angry bull on crack. The brain of Murray Acton is a scary place where only the brave dare to venture.

Taken as a whole,
Feed Us a Fetus
is an impressive and inspiring piece of work, and not just for the songwriting. Jesus Bonehead’s relentless snare beat and Spud’s heavy-handed bass propels the thing forward, providing the perfect rhythm section for the furious guitars and snarling vocals. Although nine of the twenty-two tracks on
Feed Us a Fetus
are from
Out Of the Womb,
the quality of the new material made the record an instant classic on par with
Damaged, Group Sex, Something Better Change,
or any other North American hardcore punk album of the period. Not only that, but since the DayGlos pressed less than 1000 copies of their first album, most people were hearing these songs for the first time. Twenty-four years later,
Feed Us a Fetus
continues to attract new fans.