In June 1993, the Gits were just hitting their stride. The band’s singular sound of blues-tinged punk rock had made them a favorite in their adopted hometown of Seattle, and music fans throughout the U.S. and Europe were beginning to take note. The pairing of singer-lyricist Mia Zapata, whose inspirations included blues legends Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday, with furiously fast-paced rock music brought something truly unique to the grunge-laden era.
As a result, the band’s singles (among them, “Second Skin” and “Spear & Magic Helmet”) and debut album, Frenching the Bully, released a year prior, had received positive reviews, and they’d built a dedicated following of fans. That June, between recording sessions for their follow-up album, the band’s four members — Zapata, guitarist Joe Spleen (né Andy Kessler), bassist Matt Dresdner, and drummer Steve Moriarty — took a trip down to L.A. for a show at Jabberjaw and a meeting with record executives. Tim Sommer, then an A&R rep at Atlantic Records, knew “without any doubt” that he wanted to sign them. A handshake deal was made. Days later, on July 7, 1993, Mia Zapata was brutally raped and murdered.
The horrific details of her slaying — a random attack that remained unsolved until 2004 — have been repeated ad nauseam in various publications, from The Seattle Times to Rolling Stone. Yet there is so much more to be said about Zapata’s remarkable talent, legacy, and the profound impact she had on those who knew her.
When the Gits (shortened from Sniveling Little Rat Faced Gits, a Monty Python reference) formed in 1986, Zapata was a liberal arts student at Ohio’s Antioch College. Three years and one demo album later, the band relocated to the Pacific Northwest. Steve Turner, whose band Mudhoney played a show with the Gits in 1992, tells Shondaland that the Gits “were a great band. They were part of the influx of people that moved to Seattle before the great [grunge music] explosion. There were already rumblings that Seattle had [such] a good music scene that a whole bunch of friends moved out to Seattle, including the Gits. And they all lived together in a house called the Rathouse.”
An old, rundown abode at the corner of Seattle’s 19th Avenue and Denny Way, the Rathouse was occupied by the Gits, as well as members of 7 Year Bitch and D.C. Beggars, among others. More than just a party house, it was a community unto itself — a place where bands could perform and Zapata could offer support and advice to her musician friends. In Mark Yarm’s Everybody Loves Our Town: An Oral History of Grunge, 7 Year Bitch bassist Elizabeth Davis-Simpson says Zapata “was really encouraging of 7 Year Bitch, and she would come down when we were rehearsing and say, ‘Keep doing it. Keep playing; keep writing music. You guys are doing really good.’”
Adem Tepedelen, journalist and co-author (with Steve Turner) of Mud Ride: A Messy Trip Through the Grunge Explosion, tells Shondaland this thoughtfulness made the Gits a welcome addition to Seattle’s small music community. “They were very involved in the music scene,” he says. “They took care of the scene, they took care of each other, they put out their own records, they put out records by each other’s bands. ... They brought a nice, certain something to the scene as a group that I think a lot of people noticed. They integrated really well. They seemed to become a part of the scene and be very involved.”
Over time, the band built up a local following, attracting the attention of people like Tepedelen, who wrote about them for a local music magazine. “They just blew me away,” he says. “At the time, I was working for [indie label] C/Z Records. The C/Z office space was shared by The Rocket, which was the big music publication of Seattle at the time, so I was also doing some writing for The Rocket. I was buying all [the Gits] records, I was seeing them live, I was a huge fan, and I definitely advocated for Daniel [House, C/Z Records’ president and owner] to sign them.”
When their debut studio album, Frenching the Bully, was released on C/Z Records in 1992, it enabled the band to reach an even wider audience. By the time they met with Atlantic Records executive Tim Sommer in mid-1993, he was already a fan. “Once I became aware of the Gits and I saw them perform, it was a no-brainer for me,” he tells Shondaland. “Mia Zapata was one of the most extraordinary voices of her generation and certainly one of the most awesome vocalists that I’ve ever seen and will ever see. She was a force of nature. I described her at the time as being a cross between Patti Smith and Bessie Smith or Janis Joplin and Johnny Rotten — all of those work. We were used to seeing dynamic, charismatic punk rock performers in front of people. Rarely did they have voices as powerful or as rooted in rock and blues tradition as Mia. She was just this melodic, powerful foghorn at the center of this tsunami that was the Gits. I think when people talk about the Gits, they overlook what a powerful band the Gits were and how well suited they were for the punk rock blues that Mia was singing.”
“Punk rock blues” is an apt description, though even that feels too narrow for Zapata’s vocal abilities. From a cover of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come” and the acoustic ballad “Social Love I” to the fury of “Sign of the Crab” and the derisive humor of “Here’s to Your F--k” (the title a nod to David Lynch’s Blue Velvet), Zapata’s talents knew no bounds.
This was particularly evident in the Gits’ live performances, during which Zapata all but embodied each song. Pulling at her clothing, pounding at her chest, leaning toward the audience with mic in hand, she commanded their attention, mesmerizing them as her voice melded with the intensity of the music. “Seeing them live was transcendent,” Tepedelen says. “She was amazing. I mean, she really put everything into her performance. As an audience member, you can’t help but appreciate that.”
Sommer agrees. “Anyone who saw Mia knew that there was nothing like her,” he says. “To this date, I’ve never seen a singer like her. I’ve never seen someone with that Ruth Brown voice singing in front of a punk rock band.”
There is a beautiful camaraderie evident in the band’s live performances. Whether dressed as court jesters, laughing at a private joke, or sharing quiet banter between songs, Zapata and her bandmates had none of the surliness often attributed to their grunge-era counterparts. In fact, in The Gits, Kerri O’Kane’s riveting 2005 documentary about the band, Zapata’s murder, and its aftermath, guitarist Andy Kessler refers to Zapata as his “musical soulmate.” There was a closeness that the four band members shared that made her untimely death that much more tragic. (Through a representative, the remaining band members declined an interview for this article.)
“The death of Mia was something that the community never really got over,” Sommer says. “That music community never really got over that it was so senseless, that it was unsolved for 10 years. I think that was a continuing ripping at the scar that took so much out of those people, and so much out of that community. She was so well liked. I just can’t imagine that community ever got over it, and those of us who were fortunate to see her or know her a little bit know how significant that loss was.”
It’s impossible to know whether the Gits would have found fame upon a major label release. Sommer believes that the band, “both in terms of the twisting, turning, traditionally powerful rock music that the Gits made, and Mia Zapata, by the force of her presence and the force of her charisma” could have been a good fit for Atlantic Records. Tepedelen, who knew members of the band personally, isn’t as convinced. “They were very talented. Mia was very talented. The thing I don’t know is the kind of record that they would have made for a major label. I mean that in the sense of I don’t think anyone was going to tell them what to do. So, if a major label said, ‘Go ahead and make the record you want to make, and we’ll put it out,’ then yeah, I’m sure they would have made a great record. ... I just couldn’t see them doing it. They had some very strong principles.”
Luckily, the Gits left behind a small but powerful catalog of recordings. In 1994, one year after Zapata’s death, the band released its second studio album, Enter: The Conquering Chicken, which would go on to be included in Rolling Stone’s list of 50 Greatest Grunge Albums. Both of their studio albums were reissued in 2003, while two compilation albums — Kings & Queens and Seafish Louisville — were released in 1996 and 2000, respectively. A live performance of “Second Skin” was included in the documentary Hype! and its accompanying soundtrack, and individual songs have appeared on various compilations as recently as 2019.
And as Tepedelen points out, Zapata’s legacy lives on in every woman who dares to bring her unique strengths, passions, and talents to the stage. “The thing I appreciated about Mia was that she was bringing something different to this style of music with the way that she sang, her voice, and the way that she used it. Hopefully, that would inspire other women and girls to not feel like if they’re fronting a punk rock band or metal band or whatever, that it has to be a certain way. Make your own style and way. Mia certainly did that.”
Her death brought a profound loss to her friends, family, community, and music at large. Both Tepedelen and Sommer express deep sadness still, even 30 years after Zapata’s life was taken from her. But the music remains, and hopefully will continue to find its way to future generations of listeners. Today, Zapata is buried in Louisville, Kentucky, with a tombstone reminding anyone who passes it who she was: “Cherished daughter — sister — artist — friend — Git.”
Sandra Ebejer is a New York-based writer who has contributed to The Boston Globe, The Washington Post, Greatist, Flood Magazine, and The Girlfriend from AARP. Find her on Twitter @sebejer.
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