Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions by Chris Walter Page A
Authors: Chris Walter
Ads: Link
guests plugging their noses until they became accustomed to the stench. Piss and dry ice do not mix well together.
As 1981 became 1982, the DayGlos continued to play locally, drawing noise complaints and nasty reviews. In June, Cretin graduated from Camosun Col-lege and found employment as an electronics technologist for Defence Research Establishment Pacific—a daunting company name and job title if there ever was one. “I worked in a military research lab building gadgets for scientists,” admits Cretin, revealing this detail about his sordid past. Somehow, the former juvenile delinquent was able to obtain a top-level security clearance, which doesn’t say much for the military screening process. Anti-nuke activists might not have approved of the job, but the pay was good and Cretin loved electronics. Though Cretin worked for the military, he claims that his section built devices for civilian aircraft and he was not directly involved in the manufacturing of weapons. “I was never,
ever,
in the military,” he insists. Still, for a guy who wanted to save the world, the DayGlo had an odd way of showing it.
Cretin met a girl named September MacIntosh around this time, and the two began to date casually, without any serious expectations. Though employed now, Cretin was still just a kid with a funny haircut and a vulgar band. Neither Cretin nor September were planning to start a family, not just yet.
One upcoming show in Victoria was worth getting excited about. As it happened, the BYO (Better Youth Organization) would be passing through town on a North American tour, and a young promoter (who liked to piss on dry ice) named Tim Crow was organizing a show with Social Distortion and Youth Bri-gade. Would the DayGlo Abortions like to play? Of
course
the DayGlos would like to play—wild pigs couldn’t keep them away. As it turned out, sadly, pigs would indeed ruin the evening. Obviously, the cops—along with the entire city council—had spent way too much time watching the adventures of Sid Vicious on TV. These punk rockers were obviously nothing but crazed drug addicts who wanted to stab their junkie girlfriends. The dirty punks needed to be stopped now.
On August 21st, 1982, the scene was set for the show. The kids piled into the Old Age Pensioners Hall, revved up to see Social Distortion and Youth Brigade, who were clearly better than any Canadian punk bands simply because they were from L-fucking-A. That the DayGlo Abortions were also playing was just a bonus—not that they didn’t see the band every week or two anyway. The DayGlos themselves were thrilled and more than a little nervous about the gig. Cretin had a bad case of the jitters about the high-profile show, which he did his best to chase away with plenty of beer. Not only was he anxious about the gig, but where in hell were the bands from LA? Were the Yanks on the ferry, or did Canadian Customs turn them back? No one knew.
As it turned out, the Americans were having plenty of problems. Tim Crow, sixteen-years old at the time, remembers the difficulty: “Vancouver punk rock scenester Claudia Brown drove Red Tide default manager Dave Craggs to the border at Blaine, Washington to make sure there were no problems. There were all sorts of hassles, and it took five hours to get Social Distortion and Youth Brigade into Canada.” The punks might never have been allowed entry if the Better Youth Organization’s Stern brothers hadn’t done some fancy talking. These days, of course, they would have been summarily rejected if not locked up indefinitely as subversives.
Back at the gig, no one in those pre-mobile phone days knew what was going on. Red Tide played first and did what they could to stretch their short set. The American bands had still not arrived by the time they finished, and though the DayGlo Abortions stalled as long as possible, they eventually had no choice but to take the stage. Cretin’s anxiety disappeared as he struck the first chord and
As 1981 became 1982, the DayGlos continued to play locally, drawing noise complaints and nasty reviews. In June, Cretin graduated from Camosun Col-lege and found employment as an electronics technologist for Defence Research Establishment Pacific—a daunting company name and job title if there ever was one. “I worked in a military research lab building gadgets for scientists,” admits Cretin, revealing this detail about his sordid past. Somehow, the former juvenile delinquent was able to obtain a top-level security clearance, which doesn’t say much for the military screening process. Anti-nuke activists might not have approved of the job, but the pay was good and Cretin loved electronics. Though Cretin worked for the military, he claims that his section built devices for civilian aircraft and he was not directly involved in the manufacturing of weapons. “I was never,
ever,
in the military,” he insists. Still, for a guy who wanted to save the world, the DayGlo had an odd way of showing it.
Cretin met a girl named September MacIntosh around this time, and the two began to date casually, without any serious expectations. Though employed now, Cretin was still just a kid with a funny haircut and a vulgar band. Neither Cretin nor September were planning to start a family, not just yet.
One upcoming show in Victoria was worth getting excited about. As it happened, the BYO (Better Youth Organization) would be passing through town on a North American tour, and a young promoter (who liked to piss on dry ice) named Tim Crow was organizing a show with Social Distortion and Youth Bri-gade. Would the DayGlo Abortions like to play? Of
course
the DayGlos would like to play—wild pigs couldn’t keep them away. As it turned out, sadly, pigs would indeed ruin the evening. Obviously, the cops—along with the entire city council—had spent way too much time watching the adventures of Sid Vicious on TV. These punk rockers were obviously nothing but crazed drug addicts who wanted to stab their junkie girlfriends. The dirty punks needed to be stopped now.
On August 21st, 1982, the scene was set for the show. The kids piled into the Old Age Pensioners Hall, revved up to see Social Distortion and Youth Brigade, who were clearly better than any Canadian punk bands simply because they were from L-fucking-A. That the DayGlo Abortions were also playing was just a bonus—not that they didn’t see the band every week or two anyway. The DayGlos themselves were thrilled and more than a little nervous about the gig. Cretin had a bad case of the jitters about the high-profile show, which he did his best to chase away with plenty of beer. Not only was he anxious about the gig, but where in hell were the bands from LA? Were the Yanks on the ferry, or did Canadian Customs turn them back? No one knew.
As it turned out, the Americans were having plenty of problems. Tim Crow, sixteen-years old at the time, remembers the difficulty: “Vancouver punk rock scenester Claudia Brown drove Red Tide default manager Dave Craggs to the border at Blaine, Washington to make sure there were no problems. There were all sorts of hassles, and it took five hours to get Social Distortion and Youth Brigade into Canada.” The punks might never have been allowed entry if the Better Youth Organization’s Stern brothers hadn’t done some fancy talking. These days, of course, they would have been summarily rejected if not locked up indefinitely as subversives.
Back at the gig, no one in those pre-mobile phone days knew what was going on. Red Tide played first and did what they could to stretch their short set. The American bands had still not arrived by the time they finished, and though the DayGlo Abortions stalled as long as possible, they eventually had no choice but to take the stage. Cretin’s anxiety disappeared as he struck the first chord and
Similar Books
