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Steve Moriarty. (Courtesy photo) |
By Andy
When the fiery music discussion rolled around to The Gits one recent rainy Saturday night in a Seattle watering hole, people nodded their heads and spoke highly of the ultra-talented and riveting band.
One glass clinked on the bar to signify praise. One clenched fist rattled the structure to explain what wonderfully and powerfully was and what could have been.
When words were enunciated of The Gits’ gutsy, heartfelt and soulful punk and bluesy albums being remastered (by Jack Endino) and reissued digitally on Sub Pop Records on Nov. 13, the agreed-upon reaction was, “As they should.” (The ripping "Frenching the Bully" will get the vinyl and CD treatment with a Jan. 31 unveiling.)
The Gits' music was played with aplomb and shook our bodies and minds to the core. They dug deeply into personal issues but also wielded a message of speaking up and rising above the norm and dross.
At the dive bar, smiles beamed, but sadness hung in the air for singer Mia Zapata, who was taken too soon from this world after being murdered in 1993 at the age of 27.
I recently spoke with drummer Steve Moriarty regarding his compelling new book, "The Gits: A Story of Art, Rock and Revolution," and his close friendship and musical and artistic journey with Zapata and his fellow bandmates. Zapata's passionate, sincere and searing vocals crept their way into my ears the entire time as Moriarty shared his moving, gut-wrenching and liberating story.
Here's a portion of our phone discussion on an October Wednesday night:
* How many years would you say that it was from when you started the book to when it came out?
Steve: About 10. It started as a graphic novel about 2013. It probably finished ostensibly around 2020 to 2021. (The book is published by Feral House.)
* How'd you think it came out? Pretty satisfied?
Steve: I'm satisfied that it was honest, and it was genuine. It was a sincere attempt. I was so sick of reading about the murder, and rape, and everything. I'm thinking about (when writing the book), you know, I'm 57, I'm thinking about what I've contributed to the world artistically.
* Now that the book's out there, what's the reaction been like for readers, family, friends thus far? You said earlier you weren't really sure what it was gonna be like when you put it out there -- what have people been saying?
Steve: The reviews from the reviewers have been overwhelmingly good. I'm really shocked. I haven't heard much from the people that I mentioned in the book. A couple people have said, 'How do you remember all that stuff, and like, how do you know that, how do you write about that?' It just came -- information, the memories just came flooding in as I was doing it. It was like I had no lack of content from my memories, my thoughts. Going through the whole murder investigation for 10 years, and trying to pull apart Mia's life, and who she was with, and reflecting so much on the time, and having to think about it, not having anything else to worry about, and focusing on that. It's just like I focused on remembering for years, until we found the killer, and then there were all those like loose ends about my feeling states about it. I didn't feel any resolution. I still couldn't move on. There was no coming to terms with it, so I started writing, and that sort of was therapeutic as I went.
* That's what I was wondering, is why you chose to write the book. Kind of maybe like a cathartic experience, that type of thing?
Steve: Yeah, it was cathartic. Finding the killer wasn't cathartic, and I thought it would be, I counted on it being cathartic. I didn't think it would happen for years. Finishing writing the book, and just having it, being able to send it to someone to read, and ask them what they think. Just the writing itself was the cathartic part, and yeah, having it published is just kind of icing on the cake.
* As you're going through this, I'd imagine a very emotional time writing this. You know, the remembrances, and all that. Was it a pretty emotional, maybe a tough journey along the way there?
Steve: Yeah, it was tough, you know. I was going through kind of a rough patch in my life. (For a while) I didn't have a place to live, it was pretty rough. Once it (the book) was sort of finished, and I had a place, it was kind of about getting my shit together again, and I started working for myself, which helped.
* Did the writing maybe kind of help you along the way a little bit?
Steve: Absolutely, yeah, it really did. It was kind of a constant friend. I've always needed to have a project to do that was artistic, like something -- whether it was a band, or any kind of project, producing a record, or whatever -- and so it was kind of like the project I could always fall back on, to know I was still alive, I was still functional, but I still had thoughts, and that they were valid, and that I could still remember words, and write sentences. It was kind of reassuring, kind of kept me sane.
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Steve's book with our singles. (TSHIT photo) |
* What would you say is the main thing you wanted to get across while writing this book? I mean, obviously, we know that it's about, you know, Mia, and your relationship with Mia, and such, but what do you really want readers to get out of this?
Steve: How creativity is so important, and how community is important, and how your chosen family can be something to depend on. A collective vision for the future, making stuff happen is a perfectly valid way to live your life. I think The Gits were always, to me, a really great band, and it was cut short. In short, it was taken. It was cut short by no effort of my own, or anyone in the band. There was so much more to be said, and we had so much more to do, that I couldn't let go of it, and I needed to write about that. I just needed to have a little more time with The Gits, I think, and that presented itself. I felt like I was communicating with Mia a lot of times, that I'd be writing these stories, and remembering stuff that happened, and it was like a way that I could reach out to her, and that she could reach out to me, and it was sort of an esoteric journey that way.
* Kind of felt like she was with you along the way to help you out in each step?
Steve: She was the muse, really. I don't want to sound silly, but she was the muse. That's why oftentimes I quote what she said to me, because I was thinking about all the interactions that we had had over the years, the ones that I remember that stuck out, and that were more impactful than others. The humanness of it, you know, that she wasn't just a murder victim. All these true crime shows were featuring her story, and the murder. There's this fandom of people into those true crime shows, and people were recognizing me on the street, and coming up and talking to me about it, and I was like, 'Do you know anything about the music?' And they'd be like, 'Oh no, was she like Janis Joplin?' I'm like, 'No, she wasn't like Janis Joplin, she's kind of better than Janis Joplin in a lot of ways.'
Because Janis Joplin was just kind of a one-trick pony in a way. So, it was kind of a rebellion against that, and I wanted to just establish the legacy once and for all. So if you want to know what she was like -- she wasn't a murder victim, or someone who was stopped and raped, or a MeToo martyr, you know. She was a creative, lovely, conflicted, real human being.
* Yeah, and I totally get that out of the book. I mean, because my wife and I obviously, we're fans of the band and such, but to really find out even more, and to really get into so much of what she was like as a person, and your relationship with her, and with the band and everything. It was written in such a way that I was drawn in right away, and I was just like, 'I'm in, I'm ready for the ride here.'
Steve: Thank you, thank you, man. That means a whole lot.
* I know you touched upon this a little bit, but tell me about Mia, and what she means to you, and what she still does mean to you.
Steve: I feel like we grew up together. I really respected and learned from her about the importance of creativity, and that no matter what, it can be the most important thing, and when it is, then you become an artist.
She taught me how to play with emotion, and how to allow your feelings to carry through the music, and how important that is. Especially with the idea of blues music, and jazz, and a feeling state while you're playing, and how it's this mysterious sort of force that's very powerful. If you're lucky enough to be able to play, or intense enough on learning how to play, then it should be shared, and it should be honored, and you should do it, and no one can tell you that you can't, you shouldn't, or can't do what you love to do. And just how important that is for human beings to find that, and how most people don't have it, and when you do, you need to honor it, and treat it with respect, and act on it. So I'm playing more now. I'm playing in three groups, and play all the time. I'm learning piano, and bass and stuff, so I'm playing more music than I ever did while working and stuff.
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Steve at a Gits reunion in 2015. (Cat Rose photo) |
*What did you learn along the way? I think there's a learning process in everything. What did you come away with, and where will this point you to what you do next?
Steve: It's such an influential, important part of my life. I was able to examine that time and put it in perspective, and validate it (as) an endeavor that really gave a lot to other people. I think we tend to undervalue arts and music and stuff in this culture, and it really validated it, and I thought I wanted to communicate that. Like doing something like music or dedicating your life to something that is necessary for us to live in this society.
I need to do something that has meaning and power and can influence others and is a positive force or is a positive work to put out there for people to improve their lives or the way they see the world or give them inspiration to do their own writing or music or whatever it is.
* I think you achieved that 1,000 fold. With me knowing the story and a little bit about it before and knowing the music, obviously, if that does that for me, and inspires me even more and influences me even more, then I would hope anyways that people maybe who didn't know about the story or know about the band or know about Mia, would be inspired all over again.
Steve: I hope so, thank you, that's really cool.
* As far as the band goes, do you still listen to those songs? Do those songs still make their way into your mind throughout the day?
Steve: Yeah, yeah, I always listened to them all the way (while) writing it and I would just put on the records and stuff.
* What are your thoughts when you hear those songs? Still stoked on what you guys put out there?
Steve: Yeah, I think they stand up to anything that I hear now on Spotify. I'm like, 'Wow, this stuff still crushes, can still do it.' Her voice is so brilliant and her phrasing and stuff. People come up to me all the time in random-ass places and say how The Gits influenced them. After a while, I just couldn't deny it anymore. Even in Europe and stuff, people would approach me. I've gotten a lot of texts and emails since the book came out, too, from people now all over the world saying, like, 'Wow, I'm really glad I got this book because I always loved your band, but there's never enough out there and now I know more about the band. I like it even more. It's inspiring.' Or so many musicians, especially women, who say that Mia was such a big influence on them. Even posthumously after we were done as a band, if you could find a Gits record, it was like a discovery -- a valuable discovery, like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow or something. It kind of added to the mystique, but I think it was really worth discovering. I would love to have discovered that band when I was a kid.
* Sometimes it just hits you and you know that you're in a special spot and you're hearing a special thing.
ZAPATA'S 7 YEAR BITCH CONNECTION
During an interview that Cat and I conducted with 7 Year Bitch's Valerie Agnew and Selene Vigil-Wilk for this blog at a Seattle hotel in 2016, the duo said that Zapata had a huge influence on their band when they came crashing through the gate in 1990. They practiced above her bedroom at the Rathouse and she gave them words of advice from the get-go.
"She would say, 'You guys, this is rad; you guys, this is awesome.' She was totally our cheerleader, had our back, was so supportive of us," said Vigil-Wilk, who saw The Gits for the first time with her boyfriend at the Vogue.
The couple turned to each other and one of them said, "Things just got a whole hell of a lot more interesting." Vigil-Wilk went and saw them again, "and I just sat there and looked at her. I still remember the feeling, her raw, pure, soul -- singing."
Agnew said Zapata had the "ability to express human experience in a way that everybody could connect to. The lyrics to 'Cut My Skin'... I remember listening to a cassette tape of them before we moved out to Seattle. This is while we were all still at Antioch. I remember thinking, just listening to the certain lyrics and the way that she sung them, just having this feeling like she understood and was able to emote these universal things.
"Which is true of any great music," Agnew added, "That's why everybody's been mourning the loss of David Bowie and even Lemmy. That same thing where she just had it effortlessly, without it being self-conscious or contrived or preachy. We were fortunate enough to see her find her own stride and confidence, because she was sometimes really super confident and sometimes not."
Cat and I were fortunate to attend a Zapata solo acoustic gig in San Jose, Calif., in 1993 (we also saw The Gits a night or so before). We spoke to her and she said she was nervous because none of her people were there.
"We're your people," Cat said and bought Zapata a shot of whiskey. We had a group of friends there watching and rooting her on.
It is one of our most fond memories to this day.
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