Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions (7 page)

Overall, the show was a bust. Joe Shithead, unsurprisingly, wasn’t impressed with the promoter. Later, when The Sikphuxz became the DayGlo Abortions, they would poster for their own shows rather than leave it to some parasitic promoter. “We used flour and water for glue, and some of those fliers lasted for years!” recalls Trevor Hagen. Such glue is also very cheap, even for punk rockers who sometimes used flour as a food substance.

The local scene was not big enough for The Sikphuxz, and they were eager to escape Victoria for the bright lights of Vancouver. Landing a gig at the Smilin’ Buddha Cabaret, the band set off across the Georgia Strait, ready to take the big city by storm. At the very least, they could drink their weight in beer and make plenty of noise. Adventure awaited.

That first show, supporting the Bludgeoned Pigs on August 28th 1980, was one that Acton will always remember. “The Bludgeoned Pigs were
thee
punk-est-assed band on earth!” Murray states emphatically. The Smilin’ Buddha was a frightening place, even for wild kids like The Sikphuxz. “That place was a pit!” recalls Trevor. As a defence mechanism, Murray wore his dirtiest, smelliest clothes to the venue. “I stunk like puke and piss. Nobody would even sit next to me!” laughs the guitarist. According to Trevor, a journalist who later interviewed the DayGlo Abortions at Club Soda smugly reported that the band had “a serious disregard for soap.” Murray smelled like dog butt.

Anyway, The Sikphuxz, who played their best that night, were as obnoxious as they could possibly be for the crowd of drunken punks. So what if they messed up a few changes and forgot a few words? No one would ever know the difference. The set progressed wildly, and Trevor remembers a conflict with Al. E. Alky. The Bludgeoned Pigs singer had a habit of getting completely trashed and picking fights with anyone handy. “He was just a little pisstank, and you could knock him over with a fart,” recalls Trevor. At any rate, Al made the mistake of hassling Ann Archy, who responded by jumping off the stage and beating the hell out of the obnoxious singer. Trevor, who had never seen her so aggressive, was a bit taken aback. The singer had more guts than he’d given her credit for, and he was secretly impressed.

Oddly, when it was time for the Bludgeoned Pigs to play, singer Al. E. Alky was nowhere to be found. The drunken punk was soon located in a dumpster behind the venue—not just any garbage bin, but a nasty East Hastings bin. “Somebody just tossed him in there like so much trash,” chuckles Acton. Al’s bandmates brushed most of the eggshells and coffee grounds from the inebriated guitarist’s clothing and pushed him onto the stage with his microphone. After a tumultuous and chaotic set, fans and bandmembers alike staggered homewards down East Hastings Street. Trevor was more than a little surprised to see Ann leave arm-in-arm with none other than Al. E. Alky. The girl had a strange way of showing her affection.

As legend has it, the band received a case of Day-Glo brand orange spray-paint in lieu of money at the end of the three-night engagement. Although they would have much preferred beer or money, the band took the paint home to Victoria, and soon many of Murray’s possessions, including his beloved ’62 Fender Telecaster guitar, were bright orange. “Everything around there was Day-Glo orange for a while,” Acton recalls. With the help of his pal Brian Whitehead, the guitarist embarked on a mission to make Victoria a more colourful place to live. After defacing everything in sight, the youths tossed the remaining cans in a corner and forgot about them. Soon that paint would be on hand to provide true inspiration.

The Sikphuxz played a few more shows, but changed the name to Zenon X and then to X-Men because they didn’t want anyone to confuse them with raunch rocker GG Allin and the Sick Fucks. Apparently they couldn’t make up their minds, because posters from the time show that the band was using all three names, seemingly at random.

Other conflicts within the group appeared and the relationship between Ann Archy and the other X-Men began to deteriorate. “I wasn’t getting along with Leslie so I began writing really nasty lyrics,” snickers Murray. “My songs were getting less and less palatable.” Trevor gives Ann credit for singing Murray’s obscene lyrics at first, and says that he mostly got along with Ann, at least until she and her promoter boyfriend began trying to take over. “She wanted to be Pat Benatar or something,” the bassist says cruelly. The Sikphuxz are profiled in the complete book of Victoria punk rock entitled
All Your Ears Can Hear,
which was published by AYECH International in 2007.

Finally, Ann could take no more abuse and packed it in. Murray Acton was more than any girl should have to put up with. RIP, Sikphuxz, just another young punk band that had run its short and angry course. But for most of the bandmembers, this was just the beginning.

Band-less yet again, Murray searched for a way to remedy the situation. After finding no groups worth joining, he realized that it was finally time to team up with his old pal Brian Whitehead. Though Brian was still unsure about his drumming abilities, the youth hesitantly agreed to fill in for now. Next, the two recruited Trevor Hagen as bassist. The older youth had nothing better to do and joined willingly. All they really needed now was a name, and this is where the spray-paint came in handy. Murray and Brian looked around at the bright orange paint everywhere and decided that the first word of the new group would be “DayGlo,” followed by whatever headline leapt out at them next. They couldn’t find a newspaper at Murray’s, so the excited youths rushed over to Brian’s house. They walked in and strode anxiously towards a paper on the table. The headline shouted “ABORTION CLINIC RAIDED.” As it turned out, one of Henry Morgentaler’s abortion clinics had been busted the day before and the story was all over the news. Brian and Murray looked at each other and, in that second, the DayGlo Abortions were, erm, born.

Jesus Bonehead. [courtesy of M. Acton]

The trio immediately rehearsed in Acton’s house, but only once. It seemed that the youths were far too loud for anyone to tolerate, least of all the narc next door. The dejected musicians took it on the road, practicing at gatherings or in any available basement. “We played a few parties just to have a place to jam,” recalls Trevor of this aimless period. This was not an ideal situation, and the group desperately needed a stable place in which to practice. Something had to give.

Despite the lack of a rehearsal spot, Brian learned faster than expected, and soon developed a unique but awkward style that suited the DayGlo Abortions perfectly. The skinny kid from Esquimalt hit the skins with an astonishing fury, especially given his slight stature. It was as if all that pent-up aggression was now boiling out and manifesting itself in a brutal display of percussive energy. The world had pushed Brian around long enough, and now it was his turn to push back. Murray silently congratulated himself for coaxing Brian into the job. His friend would work out fine.

Trevor, for his part, was no Geddy Lee, nor did anyone want him to be. Though he probably could have shown Sid Vicious a few tricks, poor ol’ Sid had died the previous year, thus dashing any hope of future collaborations between the two parties. Though Trevor didn’t progress as fast as Murray would have liked, he definitely had the right mind-set. Not only that, but the lanky youth was also handy in a fight. If this band was going to be anything like Murray envisioned it, they were going to need all the muscle they could get. Brian, bless his heart, was unlikely to scare off an angry mob.

Before they could continue, Trevor and Brian had to mend a rift between them. Trevor was upset with Brian for something the drummer hadn’t done intentionally. The misunderstanding started when Brian attended the funeral of a friend of theirs who had committed suicide. Trevor, who had been out of town at the time, was infuriated when he heard through another friend that Brian had been laughing at the funeral. Apparently, Brian found out that Trevor wanted to hurt him, so he did his best to stay away from the angry bass player. The two travelled in separate orbits for months before Murray finally explained to Trevor that Brian, high on elephant grass at the time, had only been grinning nervously and hadn’t actually laughed. Trevor felt a little foolish about holding a grudge for so long. Without the partnership of Trevor Hagen and Brian Whitehead, the DayGlo Abortions would not be around today.

With this bit of unpleasantness out of the way, the band began to practice—or at least when they could find somewhere to do it. Bouncing around from place to place, the DayGlo Abortions worked on the material that Murray provided. Unsurprisingly, the early stuff sounded much like The Sikphuxz, but with a male singer. Acton’s new songs were rudimentary but powerful, bursting with rage and satirical humour.

“Scared of People,” which Murray felt wouldn’t fly with The Sikphuxz, was perfect for the new band. There was no way that Ann would have sung lyrics such as “I nearly shit my pants when they look me in the eye” or “I’m going inside to shoot some glue.” Another early DayGlos song, “Acting Like Black Sabbath” showcased Murray’s increasingly confident skills as a lead guitarist. While the youth was no Tony Iommi, recess was definitely over. Another song entitled “Feeling Homicidal” didn’t make the cut and was dropped. The band ran through the short set list a few times, just long enough to get comfortable with the new songs. Pleased with the results, the gang knocked off to drink beer. There was no point in overdoing it with the rehearsal.

Singing, however, was something entirely new for Murray Acton. Although the reluctant vocalist was not at all confident in his ability, he didn’t think that someone new would be right for the job. Not just that, but since the lyrics were his, it only made sense that he should sing them. “I’m so shy that I’m practically autistic,” says Murray. “I managed to overcome my shyness with decades of substance abuse and by acting like an idiot in public.” Be that what it may, but the fledgling band now had a frontman who would give them a distinctive sound, even if he still claims to have “bad days” when personal circumstances conspire to rob him of his game. Shit happens.

With the band progressing steadily, the members decided to give themselves worthy nicknames. After all, what sort of names were Whitehead, Acton, and Hagen? The group needed something with a little more impact than that. They needed cool monikers like those guys in The Damned or the Sex Pistols. Putting their heads together, the DayGlo Abortions sat down to see what they could come up with. A few beers would surely help the process.

Fortunately, the boys didn’t have much trouble picking Brian Whitehead’s nickname because he already had one. The drummer had become Jesus Bonehead on Murray’s sixteenth birthday, though the nickname wasn’t used often prior to the formation of the DayGlo Abortions. Acton could still clearly recall the day he gave Brian his new tag. It was, in fact, almost a religious event.

Murray’s birthday started innocently enough until Brian showed up on the Actons doorstep ripped out of his skull on magic mushrooms. The youth had been out picking with Robin, and now had an ample supply of the psychedelic fungi on hand. Because it was his birthday, Murray wasn’t able to tag along and had to hang out at home. At any rate, Brian shoved the bag of ‘shrooms at Murray, pushed him aside, and then ran upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him. By the time Murray got there, Brian had crawled out the window and was perched on the rooftop like an extremely stoned bird. “Brian was yelling about sinners and whatnot at the top of his lungs. He was obviously having some kind of religious experience,” laughs Acton. “I shouted, ‘Get back in here, Jesus Bonehead! Get in here and quit pretending to be God!’ or something like that.” Though Murray had blurted out the nickname without thinking, it seemed to suit his friend well. Indeed, the best names often require little forethought.

Murray’s nickname also went back to his childhood, bestowed upon him by a teacher at St. Michael’s School, who uncharitably referred to the troublesome student as a “miserable cretin.” Much later, when a hostile music journalist also described Murray as a cretin in an early DayGlo Abortions review, he might as well have tattooed the nickname on the singer’s forehead. “It was a done deal at that point,” says the singer, who would be forever known, of course, as The Cretin (pronounced “Kr
e
tin” not the American pronunciation of “Creetin”).

Trevor, to his chagrin, was initially known as “Stupid,” which didn’t exactly spin his wheels. The Cretin says that he asked the bass player to pick a nickname, hanging the ”Stupid” moniker on him only when he didn’t come up with something. “He had a killer job at the dockyards that paid great, but he stopped going and was still getting paycheques months later. They begged him to come to work, but he wouldn’t because he wanted to watch some stupid cartoon on television, which is why we decided to call him Couch Potato and eventually Spud.” Trevor, for his part, claims he didn’t realize he was supposed to have a nickname, and didn’t know that his fellow bandmates had dubbed him “Stupid” until he saw it on the back cover of
Out of the Womb.
“I’m pretty sure I got Murray back for that,” says Trevor, (who will be known from this point on as Spud). The bassist, who worked in supply and service, says he quit his job at the shipyard because he was pissed off at his boss, not because he wanted to watch cartoons. Spud, nevertheless, finds the idea highly amusing. There were enough variations of Spud’s name—especially after the album came out—to confuse at least one interviewer, who thought the group had changed bass players several times. “On every album Spud has a different name,” laughs Acton.