Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (13 page)

With the new album in the can, the band played several shows but began to think about finding another guitar player. Although they were playing well together, a rhythm guitar would fill the background and give the band a fuller sound. Never mind that it would have made more sense to add another guitar
before
cutting the album; the DayGlos generally allowed things to happen organically, with no real game plan in mind. Accordingly, Cretin soon focused on a younger punk who played guitar for a local band that also practiced at the Metropol. Chris Prohom wasn’t exactly DayGlo material, but he knew his way around a fretboard and that was enough for Cretin, who had jammed with the youth once or twice before. So what if Chris couldn’t match the other band-members beer for beer? The booze disappeared fast enough as it was.

The other DayGlos didn’t know much about the new recruit, but Chris Prohom was born in Edmonton on January 12th 1965, which made him the youngest member by far. His parents were divorced, so Chris and his older sister travelled back and forth between Edmonton and Victoria. “I have early memories of Edmonton, but mostly I grew up at my mom’s in Victoria,” says Chris, who is soft-spoken and not at all the sort of person who would shoot a defenceless hamster in the head. “I was always really bad at music,” claims the guitarist. After six years of piano lessons, Chris only reached the first level. “It was a discipline thing—I didn’t practice because I didn’t like it,” explains the ex-DayGlo. His mother, to her chagrin, had not raised a concert pianist.

Chris, who had not given up on music, soon bought a cheap electric guitar from a classmate. “I think it was homemade or something—it was really weird.” The youth wanted a black Stratocaster like David Gilmour of Pink Floyd, but his first real guitar—which he still owns—was a cheap Strat copy. Chris liked the punk look before he actually heard the music, but was no less excited when he finally did. Before long, Chris and a friend named Jon Craggs formed a group with drummer Ken Jensen, who later joined the Hanson Brothers and DOA. Tragically, Ken perished in a 1995 house fire.

Shitty guitars notwithstanding, the fledging band got their name when a promoter, who needed something to put on his poster, suggested that they call themselves Red Tide. The name worked on several levels, so Red Tide did a number of gigs around town, including the BYO show with the DayGlos, before winding up at the Metropol. Chris was very much in awe of Cretin’s abilities, and defected to the DayGlo Abortions without much hesitation. So what if the older punks were kind of scary? This was an opportunity he couldn’t resist.

There was a problem. Chris was dismayed to learn Cretin would be staying in Victoria, and that only Spud and Jesus Bonehead were planning to move to Vancouver. To Chris, the band wasn’t really the DayGlo Abortions without Cretin, and he didn’t feel at all capable of filling the songwriter’s dirty sneakers. Such a thing didn’t seem possible.

In an attempt to assuage Chris Prohom’s fears, and even though he did not play on
Feed Us a Fetus,
his bandmates, as a token of DayGlo love, used a photo of the group that included Chris on the back cover of the record. This left only the matter of a nickname, and since Chris bore a slight physical resemblance to a famous hockey player, a friend of the DayGlos’ named Dave Dork dubbed the guitarist “Wayne Gretzky.” Spud joked that the moniker had more to do with Chris’s squeaky-clean image than an ability to win hockey games. Luckily, the new recruit was much handier with a guitar than he was with a hockey stick. “Wayne” disliked the nickname but was stuck with it nevertheless.

After several short but intensive rehearsals, the group was ready to debut their new guitarist. Wayne Gretzky was a fast learner, even if he constantly downplays his ability. The DayGlo Abortions did a show at Club Soda on July 2nd where Wayne claims to have had more than a touch of stage fright. It is doubtful that anyone noticed. To the kids, this was another high-energy DayGlos show, and they were hardly looking for refunds.

Even with the new lineup, Victoria was looking less attractive all the time, especially when the Metropol closed and the band was forced to vacate their practice pad. Fred was moving back to England, and Miriam was a bit pissed at the DayGlos for overstaying their welcome. The band eventually found office space, where they resorted to stuffing towels under the doors to keep smoke from billowing into the hall. Sadly, these measures were not enough to postpone the inevitable for long, and the band was evicted following a noisy blowout in which they made a mess of the boardroom and trashed the place. Now, with nowhere to practice, Spud and Bonehead thought more and more about moving to Vancouver. There was nothing left for them in Victoria.

Despite a host of fears, Chris Prohom—who, to his mild annoyance shall be forever known as Wayne Gretzky—had moved to Vancouver in the fall of ’85, possibly because his older sister had already rented an apartment in which he could stay. Now Wayne had to travel back and forth from Vancouver to Victoria for practice, but this may have been the last push Bonehead and Spud needed. Funds were a consideration, but Bonehead had earned a few bucks selling pot, and Spud, who was collecting Unemployment Insurance, still had four months of pogey freedom left. The bandmates were as ready as they were ever going to be, and together they finalized their plans. It was time to go.

What Spud didn’t know was that he had left his job just a bit too soon, which might explain why his employers didn’t object when he asked them to lay him off. As it turned out, the federal government planned to downsize the shipyard, offering generous severance packages to those who left voluntarily. Spud, by resigning too early, missed out on a big payday. “People who had been there half as long as me were getting $60,000!” exclaims Spud, not without rancour. Cretin, who worked at the same shipyard, later cashed in. But that was in the future and, in February of ’85, Spud and Jesus Bonehead finally made the big move to Vancouver. There was no other way.

Upon arrival in the big city, an associate introduced Spud to heroin, whereupon the bassist promptly barfed his guts out. Unlike several future bandmates, he did not develop an affinity for the drug. Trevor couldn’t see the point of doing something that made him puke, especially at that price. Vancouver, as always was awash in drugs, and though they cost less there than anywhere else, this DayGlo preferred to spend his money on beer and weed. After all, he was on Unemployment Insurance and had to watch his spending.

Drugs or no drugs, the pair needed a place to stay. Robin Sharpe was good enough to let Spud and Jesus Bonehead sleep on his floor while they looked for accommodations, although this was not a permanent solution by any means. Bonehead eventually moved in with a friend who rented a cheap apartment on West 4th Avenue and Yew in Kitsilano—something that no longer exists in 2010. Rent in the trendy neighbourhood near the beach is very expensive now, but even lowly punks such as Bonehead could afford to live there in the mid-80s. Though Spud began staying with a friend named Roxanne, he was still technically homeless as the young men tried to bring the band back to life.

Although the original hardcore scene was now in its golden years, Spud and Bonehead did not intend to let it die peacefully. They had ambitions that stretched beyond the confines of Vancouver Island, or even Canada for that matter. If they worked hard enough they could kickstart the band that everyone loved to hate. All they had to do was get a few shows.

Asking around, the bandmembers learned of a rehearsal spot that could be had cheaply. Formerly known as Stalag 13, the crumbling warehouse was as rudimentary and crude as any practice spot could be. Several punks still lived in the old building, though it seems unlikely that they were paying rent. The warehouse occasionally functioned as a boozecan and barely provided enough shelter to keep the equipment dry, but the price was impossible to beat. In fact, Bonehead paid the first month’s rent but no one ever tried to collect any money after that. Not only did the DayGlos have a place to practice, but beer could be purchased whenever the boozecan was open, no matter how late.

Practice went as well as anyone could have hoped, and the band progressed rapidly. For Spud, who still played bass guitar and had assumed vocal duties, this period represented a steep learning curve. Since his voice is quite different than Cretin’s, he not only had to sing, but he had to sound like Cretin. “We used to joke that Cretin sounded like Froggy from
Our Gang,”
quips the bassist. “My voice is much cleaner, so I had to force myself to sound rougher.” Despite this, the DayGlos quickly nailed a set list together, even if they were still a bit shaky in places. But so what? This was punk rock after all.

Then, and although Spud wasn’t sure the band was ready, they accepted an offer to play four shows on the West Coast with Italy’s Raw Power, who met the DayGlos in Vancouver for a show on December 15th, 1985. Since they didn’t have a vehicle of their own, a friend Doug Clement, (who also did artwork and took photos for the band), drove the boys to Portland, Oregon in his Chevy van. There was scarcely room to breathe with all the musicians and gear onboard, but at least the vehicle was bigger than the VW Microbus they had taken to California in ’83. The shows went well, and the guys from Raw Power were quite friendly, not arrogant rock star types. The DayGlos were particularly taken with the singer’s wife, who was drop-dead gorgeous. “They slept in our hallway, and she left her bra for us—which we pinned on the wall later,” recalls Spud, his eyes glazing over as he pictures the Italian beauty in his mind. Some people are easier to remember than others.

In Eugene, Oregon, the DayGlos were pleased to learn they would play the very last show in the frat house where the movie
Animal House
was filmed. This was an honour of sorts, and the boys guzzled a few beers Belushi-style in memory of the dead comedian. The band hit the stage well lubricated, and all was going swimmingly until Spud paused between songs to tell an American joke. “Suddenly, the entire place was dead silent. You could have heard a fucking pin drop—at a punk rock show yet,” remembers Spud, who worried that the band would soon face a lynching. The situation was very tense for a moment or two, but Spud managed to defuse the bomb by grovelling a bit and cracking a couple of Canadian jokes. Apparently, our neighbours to the south think Canadians are downright hilarious, just as long as we don’t joke about them.

The two bands parted ways after a last show in Vancouver, promising to meet up again someday. Raw Power carried on across Canada, but Immigration somehow learned that the Italians were working in the country illegally and followed them all the way to Winnipeg. Promoter Mike Lambert remembers the incident well: “The bastards showed up at Wellington’s during load in, so we took Raw Power back to Fort Street. After disguising them with Canadian clothes such as lumberjackets and toques, we tried to get them to play under the name ‘War Rewop’ but they chickened out. We ended up bringing the whole bar back for a house party.” Canada Immigration has ruined more than a few punk shows for unlucky Winnipeggers. Keep up the great work, guys.

The DayGlos didn’t know it yet, but they would meet up with “Raw Power” for the US leg of the Feed Us a Fetus Tour. Sadly, the Canadians would learn that things weren’t always as they seemed. More on that later.

Back in Vancouver, the DayGlos continued to progress. Because Wayne still felt uncomfortable about playing without Cretin, the decision was made to find another guitarist. To this end, the boys placed an ad in the “Musicians Wanted” section of
The Georgia Straight.
They soon received inquires from a number of hopefuls, none of whom were qualified for the job. By now, the DayGlos had certain standards and could not allow just any unschooled and abrasive punk to join the group—they needed an abrasive punk who could keep up. Sadly, the “musicians” who applied barely knew a shovel from a guitar and were considerably handier with the former than the latter. The situation looked grim indeed.

Then a woman named Alice booked an audition for her son, Mike. In fact, Alice arranged
three
tryouts, using the surnames Jak, Lehmen, and Adolf. When just one “Mike” arrived for the audition, Spud and Jesus Bonehead were confused. The boys allowed the stranger to show them his stuff, still half-expecting two other applicants named Mike to turn up. Amazingly, the guitar player exceeded all expectations and the DayGlo Abortions had a new axeman. Despite his tendency to come and go, Mike Anus aka Mike Jak aka Mike Lehmen continues to participate with the band off-and-on to this day.

The new guitarist was a hope-to-die East Vancouverite and the first DayGlo who had never lived in Victoria. At ten-years of age, the boy plunked himself down behind a piano at a music store on Kingsway Avenue and startled his mother with a remarkably accurate rendition of a popular radio hit. “Mike had never played a piano in his life—he just knew how,” recalls Alice Lehmen, thinking back to that day. “I knew that he had a gift for music.” What Alice didn’t know was that her sweet little boy would go on to join a punk band that would become the most controversial group in Canada, if not the entire fucking universe. In fact, Alice herself was directly responsible for that and, to her credit, she would never regret her decision to arrange the audition. To the contrary, Alice later helped smuggle the DayGlos into the United States on several occasions.

Sadly, Mike is Alice’s only surviving offspring. Both Mike’s older sister and younger brother died of drug overdoses in the 90s, causing the poor woman to fear that her only remaining child would soon follow. Back in the 80s, Mike was spiralling dangerously out of control, and his death would not have been surprise to anyone. Substance abuse aside, if the youth could be herded onto the stage, he could generally be counted on to play his guitar and play it well.