Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (6 page)

At any rate, Trevor invited Murray over with the sole intention of starting a new band. “Murray might argue the point, but that’s the way it went down,” insists the bass player. Murray recalls that Trevor did indeed call him. “I think Spud asked me over to play cards or something,” says the singer, struggling with his memory. Regardless of who phoned who or why, Trevor and Murray jammed for a bit and felt they might be able to make things work. They might even play a few shows.

First, the pair had to agree on what kind of music they would play. Trevor was open to pretty much anything, so long as it had some energy. “I didn’t know what we were going to play; I just wanted to jam with Murray.” He was surprised when his friend told him that he wanted to play punk rock. “I was kinda shocked, because I thought he’d want to do something along the lines of John McLaughlin,” laughs Trevor. At the time, he was unfamiliar with the aggressive new music, and didn’t know what to think. Murray described punk as “crazy, trash music,” which sounded good to Trevor. “I didn’t want to play any of the shitty rock music that was going on in those days and wanted to do something new,” Trevor recalls. Not just that, but punk rock seemed as if it would be much easier to play than jazz fusion. All they needed now was a name, and maybe a drummer and a singer.

To this end, Murray and Trevor began looking for musicians of a similar mindset. Steve Andres suggested that his girlfriend Leslie Watson be given an audition, and the girl was soon recruited. “Leslie” didn’t have enough of a ring to it, so they decided to call her “Ann Archy” instead. “Leslie wasn’t particularly good-looking, but she had this tough chick thing going on. Her voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard,” recalls Acton. Brian Whitehead wasn’t quite up to snuff on the drums, and Murray reluctantly admitted that his friend needed a little more practice.

John Mears lasted just one gig as drummer before Murray promoted Mears to rhythm guitar and put Ben Henry on the skins. “We could turn down John’s guitar but not his drums,” explains Trevor, telling us all we need to know about John’s musical ability. However, Ben Henry wasn’t really into the music, so a drummer named Fred Weyerman took his spot. Trevor, of course, handled bass duties, and Murray played guitar and sang backup vocals. Though Brian wasn’t in the group, he jammed with Murray frequently and attended most rehearsals. There was a general understanding that Brian would join the group at some point, but no one knew when exactly that might be. Though he never did join this band, it would be less than a year before Brian Whitehead claimed his place in the DayGlo Abortions.

The band still needed a name, so the members ran through dozens of nasty possibilities before deciding to call themselves The Sikphuxz. The
“f”
word—even if The Sikphuxz didn’t spell it the traditional way—had more impact then, and had not yet become the meaningless expletive it is now. Only criminals and degenerates used the word freely, and to call one’s band The Sikphuxz was an affront to everything good and decent. Murray could only imagine what Stewart Lockhart would have thought. The Sikphuxz were not interested in becoming the next Blondie, or at least Trevor and Murray weren’t. At this point, the youths were mostly interested in finding another beer or three.

Rehearsal in Trevor’s basement on Emerson Street was noisy and discordant, but The Sikphuxz progressed at a steady pace. Unfortunately, the neigh-bours soon started to complain, making it impossible for the group to practice late. Then Trevor began to have trouble with his girl. Murray claims the highly-strung female tried to attack Trevor with an axe, but the bass player says it was a hammer, and that The Sikphuxz weren’t even practicing on the night in question. “She freaked out and tossed an ashtray, but missed and broke the window,” the bassist says drolly. After that, the irate girl allegedly threw a knife at her boyfriend, which stuck in the wall next to his head. Trevor responded by grabbing his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend and rushing her out the door. Other girls would pass through Trevor’s life but, luckily, few were as violent. “I still haven’t got a clue what that scrap was about,” claims Hagen. “I wasn’t even drunk.” That may very well be, but one might guess that Trevor probably said something he should have just
thought
about saying. Indeed, most fights between a man and a woman start for that very reason. The Sikphuxz simply got caught in the middle.

Homeless, the band moved to drummer Fred’s basement on Bromley Place to continue the cacophony on a temporary basis. Steve Andres and Ann Archy broke up, but Ann stayed on as the singer. “I couldn’t blame him, she was a bitch,” Murray says bluntly. Later, in conversation, the singer is unwilling to portray Ann so negatively, calling her a “bit of a go-getter and a troublemaker,” which he apparently considers to be desirable qualities.

The Sikphuxz searched without success for a permanent practice pad. They rehearsed wherever they could, dragging their gear with them from basement to basement like punk rock gypsies. Musically, Murray had a few things going on that were decidedly different than anything he’d done with Airborne. The two bands, in fact, were worlds apart. Acton remembers an early song titled “Self-Immolation,” which was inspired by a monk who set himself ablaze to protest the war in Vietnam. Since the monks believe that anyone who commits suicide is sacrificing their immortal soul, Murray was deeply impressed that he would light himself on fire just to make a statement. “I also had a deep desire to save the world when I was young. There was all sorts of horrible shit going on and, for some reason, I thought I could prevent it all.” The song went into Murray’s scrapbook, never to be used by any of his numerous musical projects. These days, that book is very thick indeed.

Although Murray may have wanted to save the world, he slowly began to accept the fact that he couldn’t. As the singer’s idealism began to flag, he became increasingly cynical and his songs grew more negative. Rather than provide solutions to help ease human pain and suffering, Murray took his lyrics from the six o’clock news, albeit in a cheeky and sarcastic manner. The unrepentant jokester was rarely serious, even while referencing particularly horrible world events. While it may seem incredible that the foul-mouthed and nihilistic singer ever cared about the planet at all, Murray is
still
concerned about the fate of mankind. Just don’t expect him to say so in verse.

Greed and materialism have long been targets for Murray Acton. Without those most loathsome of vices, the singer would need to look elsewhere to vent his spleen. He has little to worry about, as modern society seems to be getting greedier and more materialistic by the second. The DayGlos also take aim against judgemental people, for Murray has seen more than his share of those. “The whole ego thing, where everybody has to dominate everybody else, I have been against that all of my life,” says the singer, displaying a side of his nature not often seen outside of his lyrics. Those who consider the Day-Glos to be pointlessly obscene have not looked beyond the exterior. Much of Murray’s anger comes from the inability of humans to treat one another fairly, and his lyrics reflect that rage. Again, the listener won’t find solutions, but they might develop a deeper understanding of the problems. Humour and satire play a large part in how that message is delivered, and the cruder the better. Fuck the world if it can’t take a joke.

Incredibly, if Acton doesn’t complete a song on the first pass, he adds it to the huge scrapbook and never returns to finish it. That means every DayGlos song stems from a single burst of inspiration. How many half-completed gems are in that pile? In the beginning, Murray had to sit down and force out the songs, but he has learned over the years how to channel his creativity and let the songs flow more naturally. These days, the prolific songwriter often writes songs in his head while bicycling around Victoria, using the rhythm of the pedals as a metronome. He finds that ideas come easily while he rides around the port city, watching the people and smelling the urban miasma. Subconsciously at least, Murray must wonder if the well will ever run dry. Meanwhile, that mighty stack of unfinished songs grows ever higher.

Bottomless Pit (unfinished)

What kind of guy am I?

Well, I’m kinda like that incinerator the cops burnt all those drugs in last night

I’m a bit like that ditch they poured all your booze into the other day

I’m kinda like that trailer park down the street where all the skinny white kids live.

Well, in fact, I’m a bottomless pit

You can trust me with your money

And you can trust me with your big fat wife

But you better believe it, baby

I’m a bottomless pit.

But that was in the future and, for now, The Sikphuxz felt they were doing well if they ended a song at the same time. The young punks did not intend to waste too much time practicing when they could be playing shows. The band was eager to make a name for themselves, and they couldn’t do that if they didn’t play live. They needed a gig.

Fate intervened when Ann Archy found a new boyfriend who, coincidently, turned out to be a promoter of sorts. The enterprising fellow apparently had other quasi-legal sidelines, which seems to be the standard for many promoters. Anyway, Ann’s boyfriend/promoter found a gig for The Sikphuxz supporting a Top 40 act known as Slingshot at a local community hall. The gig, naturally, would not go down as anticipated.

On the night in question, The Sikphuxz arrived at the club with a plan. Since this was 1979 and Van Halen was all the rage, the group sent a youth named Julian Mays onto the stage to play the instrumental track “Eruption.” Murray insists that Julian played the song note-for-note, though it hardly seems likely that the youth played as professionally. Regardless, Julian was good enough to delight the members of Slingshot, who could hardly believe that this young kid was familiar with the challenging piece of music. Not just that, but Julian also bore a strong resemblance to Eddie Van Halen, exciting the happy headbangers even further. They were all smiles.

At that moment, Trevor’s brother Gator emerged from the wings to “blow Julian’s head off” with a realistic-looking .357 Magnum replica. Stunned, the rockers watched in horror as Gator dragged Julian offstage by the hair. This was the cue for The Sikphuxz to rush onstage and blast into the first song. The audience went into shock, but recovered sufficiently to boo and hiss loudly. In fact, the mood was so ugly that the band barely escaped with their gear after just four songs. Ann Archy was terribly upset and Murray recalls watching the singer bawl her eyes out backstage. Truthfully, the show had been a little uglier than he thought it would be. “They didn’t like us very much,” Murray remembers wryly. The singer is prone to understatements.

Slingshot eventually played, but the fuss was over by then, and no one recalls much about the headlining act at all. Several members of Slingshot later formed a mainstream rock act known as Rockslide. One fine day in 1981, three of the members cornered Murray in a record store and demanded to know “just what the hell he thought he was doing with that punk rock shit.” As far as anyone knows, Rockslide is still touring the bars of northern Canada, playing Mötley Crtie covers for drunken rednecks. And while it is true that the DayGlos also tour the frozen north, they are at least playing music they wrote themselves.

Meanwhile, Acton was still trying to recover from injuries sustained from his fall. While visiting the hospital initially, a bright orthopaedic specialist had chosen Murray to be a guinea pig for a revolutionary new type of surgery. “He was looking for somebody with a massive heel injury, and I fit the bill per-fectly,” recalls the singer. Doctors took Murray from the lineup and began treatment that day. Had Acton remained in the line, doctors would have eventually found the compression fractures on vertebras L3, 4, and 5. Although the foot surgery was far superior to any other treatment Murray would have normally received, the bones in his spine fused together and he now lives in constant pain. “Twenty years later, my back started causing me big problems and they finally figured it out,” says Murray, shaking his head. Teenagers may be indestructible but forty-nine year old punk rock singers are most definitely not.

The Dishrags had long since moved to Vancouver to join the burgeoning punk scene, and Nomeansno, who had just formed, were not yet a big draw. Even though the scene in Victoria was starting to grow, there were no punk-friendly clubs, and bands had to organize hall shows themselves if they wanted to play. The police, of course, were always on hand to harass and provoke. Punk rock was an evil scourge on par with outlaw motorcycle clubs and the cops were determined to nip this nasty fad in the bud, lest the shorthaired freaks became a serious menace to society. If only the police could have known that “punk” clothing would one day be available at the mall. Society, not the police, took the teeth out of punk rock by absorbing it into the mainstream.

Around this time, Ann Archy’s boyfriend/promoter contacted DOA manager Ken Lester to arrange a gig. Of course, The Sikphuxz were available to provide support. According to Trevor, Ann’s boyfriend failed to live up to his end of the deal and did nothing to promote the event. “He totally fucked up,” Trevor says disgustedly. The small handful of Victoria punks in attendance mostly wanted to see the headlining act, and didn’t really know what to make of The Sikphuxz, who blasted out a noisy set. Neil Embo of House of Commons recalls the show: “DOA were at their prime just before Randy Rampage and Chuck Biscuits quit. Dave Gregg was one of the nicest guys I ever met, and Randy Rampage was shooting speed in their van before the show. He was amazing.”