Argh Fuck Kill: The Story of the DayGlo Abortions Read Free Page A

local bar kept mentioning that they’d heard about his infamous son on the TV or radio. The 1988 court case regarding distribution of obscene material was big news, and the entire country waited somewhat anxiously for a verdict. But all this was in the future, and neither Murray nor his father had an inkling of the shitstorm that would eventually descend upon them. “Just shut up about that music!” rants Murray, mimicking his dad again. Unlike the fortunate Stephen McBean, it seems impossible that Murray and his father will ever find a common ground. Despite this total lack of support, the youth was not to be dissuaded when he decided to play the guitar, and that stubbornness would serve Murray well over the decades. He follows his instinct.
    Even at eleven years of age, music was very important to Murray. His parents had a number of albums including
Willy & the Poor Boys,
and
The Herb Alpert Tijuana Brass Band,
but they didn’t play them often. Later, when Acton reached puberty, he furtively masturbated to the cover of the Herb Alpert album, which featured a naked woman covered with whipping cream. Good pornographic material was difficult to come by in those days. “They also had a Chet Atkins LP, which had some gnarly guitar playing on it,” Murray remembers. No word on whether or not he liked the cover.
    A mathematician/musician named Tom Lehrer introduced Murray to satirical humour in music. Satire, of course, is as important to the DayGlo Abortions as hops are to beer. “Lehrer wrote a song called ‘The Old Dope Peddler,’ which is super funny,” recalls Acton. But Leher was all but forgotten when Murray discovered Frank Zappa in the early 70s. While visiting relatives in Maple Bay with his parents, Murray stumbled across a box of records that included
Lumpy Gravy,
Zappa’s first solo album. A cousin, marine biologist Bill Heath, was happy to blow Murray’s mind. “I couldn’t believe the sounds that were coming out of the speakers,” says Acton, still awed by Zappa’s wild creativity. The song “Idiot Bastard Son” in particular was an immediate hit with the boy, who loved the mixture of rock music and irreverent humour. That many future DayGlo Abortions songs would have similar titles is no coincidence. Murray borrows what he likes.
    Black Sabbath also left a huge impression on the boy. On a whim, Murray traded his copy of Alice Cooper’s
Killer,
which was also released in 1971, for
Master of Reality.
“Victoria being what it is, we didn’t get those records until 1972,” laments Acton. Although both albums are regarded as masterpieces of hard rock, it was the latter LP that made such an impact on young Mr. Acton. Though the DayGlo Abortions would later parody Black Sabbath in “Acting Like Black Sabbath,” that group played a major role in the development of the DayGlos’ sound.
“Master of Reality
still blows my mind,” says the guitar player, shaking his head in respect. “Zappa and Lennon are my main influences,” he claims, even though the DayGlos owe an equal or greater debt to Sabbath.
    In fact, Black Sabbath was so important to Murray that he stopped listening to rock music when vocalist Ozzy Osbourne quit or was fired from the group. “I became a real music snob after that,” recalls the guitarist. “I refused to go see AC/DC with Bon Scott singing at the Victoria Memorial Arena because I didn’t listen to rock music.” The ant-snorting Ozzy Osbourne probably would have appreciated the gesture of solidarity had he known, even though Acton later deeply regretted missing the AC/DC show. Rather than ruin his eardrums with heavy metal, Murray turned, of all things, to jazz fusion, and soon found The Mahavishnu Orchestra, who also became a major influence. There was something about jazz fusion that appealed to the disillusioned youth, and he marveled at the complexity of the arrangements. Perhaps nothing could be further from punk rock than jazz fusion, yet somehow Acton would