In 2008, just one week after the release of their album Hail Destroyer, this writer and late, great snapper Ashley Maile were invited aboard Cancer Bats' once pristine Chevrolet 3500. Over the next 48 hours, we got a taste of the DIY punk rock life in Canada's hardest-working band...
In the sunny glare of a Toronto car dealership forecourt, the reflections of four black-clad young men stare back from the tinted windows of an ice-white passenger van. Impressed with the vehicle's 15 seats, air-conditioning, power steering and a deafeningly loud CD stereo, they reluctantly sign their lives away for $35,000 – £17,500 at your local bureau de change – and drive their brand new purchase into the distance. Which, in Canada, is fucking miles away.
Fast forward two years, one mangled deer and almost 97,000 miles, and Cancer Bats' once gleaming van looks as though its been driven through a gravel storm, while the interior has a certain lived-in look, and an unidentifiable smell to go with it.
For the quartet – vocalist Liam Cormier, guitarist Scott Middleton, bassist Jaye Schwarzer and drummer Mike Peters – this Chevrolet 3500 is home. Sweaty show clothes dry on the backs of chairs. Sleeping bags, Superman and Master Of Puppets pillows line the van walls. Plastic water bottles, a hard-backed biography of the late actor John Belushi and a half-eaten Toblerone are scattered around the dashboard.
A splintered drumstick, a handful of plastic cutlery and a dog-eared copy of James Rollins’ fantasy novel Subterranean are jammed against the window, the book curling from the heat of the engine. Inches above the windscreen, stickers and photographs decorate the ceiling like tattered, peeling stars in the night sky. And within immediate reach of the steering wheel, albums by perennial favourites Black Sabbath, High On Fire and Down, patiently wait their turn on the stereo.
“This van is a money pit,” smiles Cormier. “We knew we’d be making a lot of sacrifices when we made a decision to do this full-time a couple of years ago. We have to raise $1000 [around £500] a month to pay off the van, so we’ve been living hand-to-mouth ever since. We eat what we can, sleep where we can and focus on putting on the best show possible. It’s a pretty gnarly way to live but we love this.”
Even though this lifestyle would break lesser men, this is their four-wheeled world and this gang of close friends wouldn’t change it for a thing.
You join us in Fredericton, the capital of the Canadian province of New Brunswick, population 50,535. Yesterday was a rare day off for the band, who ended up crashing on the floor of an abandoned house to save money. And, with the aforementioned squat lacking such basic amenities as gas central heating or running water, today will be the quartet’s third consecutive day without a shower.
They roll up at Comfort Inn at 797 Prospect Street, trailer and all, to take us to a slap-up breakfast at the friendly Sunshine Diner on Brookmount Street. Imagine an old fashioned café run by your three favourite aunties, with cheap, home-cooked food piled high on your plates and as much piping hot coffee as you can drink. It’s warm and welcoming places like these that can make a world of difference to your mood when you’re tired and smell like balls.
Our smiling waitress, Gaynor, remembers the band from the previous day when they each ordered the exact same cooked breakfast.
“It’s a total mom-vibe,” smiles Cormier, eyeing the bubbling coffee pot. “They let you help yourselves to drinks. It’s awesome.”
In a couple of hours, the band will make their way to The Kinsmen Community Center at 141 School Street, a shabby, but well-loved hall which was opened in 1980. During its 28-year tenure, the venue and its owners have helped raise money for charity, fund the annual Santa Clause parade and provide a weekly meeting spot for the local amateur boxing club, a senior citizens’ exercise group and bingo. For $275 [£135], DIY punk promoters can rent the large hall and put on shows.
At 8:40pm, Cancer Bats, who are one week into the second leg of their Canadian tour in support of their 5K-rated second album Hail Destroyer, will play in front of 200 fans in a room with no stage or barrier. So far, the tour has passed without incident. Eight weeks ago, though, while travelling their way around the west coast of Canada and mere days before their show-stopping appearance at Austin’s SXSW Red 7 Patio show on March 12, fate dealt the foursome a particularly cruel double blow.
There’s probably a gang of crackheads dancing around in my American Apparel underwear. All I had left were the sweaty clothes on my back
Liam Cormier, after the band's van was looted on tour
On March 7, the band had finished an all-ages show at Elements in Victoria, British Columbia, a 60 mile drive from Vancouver. When it was time to load out from the venue, the band discovered that someone had popped open the van door and helped themselves to their belongings, including a laptop, an iPod, clothes and perhaps most annoyingly, their passports.
“There’s probably a gang of crackheads dancing around in my American Apparel underwear,” says Cormier, in between mouthfuls of a bagel and sips of coffee. “All I had left were the sweaty clothes on my back.”
“All of our stuff was stolen from the van, but I thought it would be safe to park in front of a church,” jokes Middleton. “But the show we played afterwards [the band’s second of the night] was awesome. It was bittersweet, but you just have to keep going. We’ve got a big plastic sword we found in Montreal as protection – our merch guy Juice bought a $6 [£3] machete in Wal-Mart the day after we were robbed. People try to fuck with you all the time on tour...”
As bad luck would have it and taking yet another hit to their already stretched purse strings, two days after the robbery, their trusty van’s back window shattered “for no reason” while they were speeding to Texas towards another show.
“It was just another thing to laugh at,” shrugs Cormier. “Shit happens. You can either get hung up on it or sweep up the glass and look forward to playing again. Nothing can stop us touring, save for a death in the family or a serious illness.”
Thankfully, no one dies en route to School Street, and when we arrive, the band are greeted by three smiling faces already waiting outside the venue’s locked doors.
“It’s important for a band like us to build a following from the ground up,” says Cormier.
Upon setting up, the band learn from the promoter that there won’t be a hot meal on offer. Instead the band members will have to satiate themselves with four bags of tortilla chips, three pots of spicy salsa dip and a crate of bottled water. Oh, but this measly lot is to be shared between four bands, including Alexisonfire’s guitarist Wade MacNeil side-project The Black Lungs (featuring vocalist George Pettit on bass), Vancouver-based labelmates A Textbook Tragedy and local behemoths Iron Giant. The lack of nutrients and vitamins on the rider is enough to make tears stream from turd-sleuth Dr Gillian McKeith’s scowling face.
It’s so hard eating properly on tour. I was broke and dizzy from malnourishment
Liam Cormier
“You take what you’re given,” sighs Peters. “We tend to stock up on groceries because eating fast food gets very boring, very quickly. We like to buy lots of cereals and soya milk, because it’ll last a few days. You get quite creative when you live in a van.”
“It’s so hard eating properly on tour,” adds Cormier. “I learned the hard way on our first tour. I was broke and dizzy from malnourishment. I’d eat two Pop Tarts and a peanut butter sandwich a day and thought I was good to go. I’d be light-headed as soon as we started playing. It was fucked.”
Cormier can’t afford to play Russian Roulette with his blood sugar levels on this tour. Aside from fronting the band, he’s temporarily drumming for The Black Lungs and displays his modest rhythmic skills behind Peters’ red kit.
“I think Liam’s drumming talent is down to his pseudo ‘Devillock’ hairstyle which he refers to as the ‘Bang Fang’,” laughs MacNeil, in-between set-changes. “It’s his hair that keeps us in time. Mostly.”
As long-time touring buddies, Pettit is proud of his friend’s work ethic and subsequent accomplishments.
“‘Be sweet or die’ is the mantra they live by,” he smiles. “They totally live it and love playing shows. I’ve never met four people who mesh as well and thrive on touring the way they do. They weren’t cut out for the 9 to 5. It makes me proud when I see how far they’ve come.”
With a quick line-check as the minute hand strikes for show time, the band rip into Hail Destroyer. With no stage or barrier, the crowd lurch forward – a line of teenage fans, struggling to keep upright, link arms and try to form a wall to prevent themselves from falling on the band and Middleton’s bank of distortion pedals. But it’s no use. By the time they’ve raced through French Immersion, it’s difficult to tell where Middleton is, save for the occasional windmill of blond Viking hair. It’s absolute chaos.
Post-show, with ruddy faces and steam rising from their T-shirts, the band look annihilated but in a jubilant mood.
“It’s hard when you’re rocking out when there’s a horde of kids moving towards you,” laughs Middleton. “The floor was slippery from spilled water and we all had to watch our step. The metal stance comes in handy at times like that, as it guarantees you won’t fall on your ass.”
“I thought there’d be a point where Liam would end up in my lap,” adds Peters. “He had one foot on the flight case and one on my bass drum, holding them apart. It’s a great rush playing when any second the crowd could end up falling on your kit.”
Two hours later, we’re feasting on cheap and spicy chicken wings in a British-themed pub in downtown Fredericton. Middleton – who is straight-edge, along with Cormier – orders a Shirley Temple, a cocktail made with orange juice, ginger ale and in hindsight, “not enough grenadine syrup”.
Schwarzer and Peters both order a couple of beers, revealing that there’s no problem getting “drunk as a pile of fuck” in front of their straight-edge friends.
“There’ve been times when me and Mike have got blackout drunk and just silly,” laughs Schwarzer, who tellingly, has the words ‘major’ and ‘rager’ tattooed in Iron Maiden lettering on his left and right hand. “The next day, Liam and Scott will fill us in with what we said and did. But they never judge you. Everyone respects each other’s choices.”
Schwarzer, whose hitched up shirt-sleeve reveals a tattoo of Black Flag’s iconic four bar logo, is also quick to explain that he and his bandmates are prepared to do whatever to make sure they can continue living on the road and playing for fans, adding that Get In The Van – Henry Rollins’ classic documentation of living below the poverty line while fronting the aforementioned Californian punks – is required reading for anyone who is serious about playing in a band full-time.
Kids sometimes think it’s a wild lifestyle and that we’re up for partying 90 days in a row... but I have to do this 300 more times this year
Liam Cormier
“There’s a chapter where their roadie showed them how to eat dog food because they were so broke,” he shudders. “Apparently, you roll it up in some bread, close your eyes, plug your nose and gulp it down. If we ever get that hungry, I’d probably do whatever it takes – steal it, take it off people’s plates or even eat dog food. But I’d rather just take a couple of fries if someone’s not eating them!”
Beside him, Cormier starts nibbling some cold fries from someone else’s plate.
“This is how I got my nickname, Scrappy,” he smiles. “I eat table scraps!”
The clock turns midnight and the band drive us back to the hotel. They’ll be crashing in K!’s room tonight, thanks to no spare cash for rooms of their own. Sneaking past reception with pillows and sleeping bags, they’re all ready for a good night’s sleep. And a much needed shower.
“Sometimes we’ll stay over at a fan’s place and they’ll invite their friends over and party until 6am,” confesses Middleton.
“The thing a lot of kids don’t realise is that this is a job for all involved,” adds Cormier. “Kids sometimes think it’s a wild lifestyle and that we’re up for partying 90 days in a row... But I have to do this 300 more times this year.”
When Cormier is asked what would happen if Cancer Bats ended tomorrow, he reacts as if he’s reached the final question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire without any lifelines.
“There’s a song on the new album called Harem Of Scorpions,” explains the vocalist. “It’s about the feeling you get when you’re not touring. We’re all psyched on doing this.”
“And not to pat ourselves on the back, but I think we can deal with any situation and nothing bums us out,” he adds with a smile. “We have so many things going for us, so imagine going back to a real job and paying bills? No way! There’re a lot of bands who haven’t been as lucky as us. We have kids scream our words back at us and go crazy at our shows. What more could we want?”
So it seems as long as there’s petrol in the tank, scraps on the table and floors to sleep on, Cormier and his three friends will be in this for the long run, despite whatever life throws at them on the road.
