Retrospectreview: Lost Grunge Progenitors Bam Bam Don’t Deserve Obscurity, and “Free Fall From Space” Is Proof

Released: June 7, 2019 (recorded in 1984)

Punk
(Hard Rock)
(Grunge)

In 1986, recording engineer Chris Hanzsek compiled an album from songs by six Seattle-based bands sharing a novel, sludgy aesthetic. Among others, Pearl Jam progenitors Green River, legendary trio The Melvins, and eventual platinum-sellers Soundgarden found their way onto the album, which was dubbed Deep Six and represented local label C/Z Records’ first ever release. Historically, the album would precede Sub Pop 200 by a number of years and would come to form a critical document in the formation of the city’s defining musical movement: grunge.

Bewilderingly missing from the compilation, however, is another proto-grunge act recorded by Hanszek whose previous qualifications more than earned its spot. Bam Bam, a four-piece once featuring future Soundgarden/Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron and fronted by firebrand Tina Bell, took the steely rigor and technical fireworks of metal and mixed it with the glorious disorder of punk acts like X-Rey Spex. In Bell, the band found someone genuinely special; a natural stage presence and a passionate advocate for the power of rock, bearing a voice that cuts like a guillotine.

It’s not as though the band were a minimal presence in the scene: by 1986 they were live legends and verifiable hustlers, sharing a stage with with nearly every notable footnote in grunge’s early days and earning multiple listener awards from local radio shows. And yet despite their significant contributions to the scene, a dearth of recording offers and, cruelly, Bell’s identity as a Black woman in an industry bound to racist and misogynist proclivities kept the band from achieving any semblance of legacy. The reasons behind the decision to omit Bam Bam from the record may be lost to time (though I have a sinking feeling why), but the damage had been done; decades after their run, they remained an invisible part of the city’s musical legacy.

That is, until two years ago, when Buttocks Productions (formed by the group’s original bassist, Scott Ledgerwood) aimed to reopen the history books with a glut of remasters from the band’s Reciprocal Recording days. Released in 2019, Free Fall From Space compiles eight songs recorded during that 1984 session all remixed by guitarist and ex-husband of Bell, Tommy Martin. His work on these old masters is fantastic: mixed fully and mastered to a proper volume, Free Fall From Space makes a case for the band’s legacy that goes far beyond lip service.

The bones of what grunge would become are here in plain sight, especially when the band slows down for the brittle “I’m Dead” and the magisterial “Ground Zero. The latter is the record’s centerpiece, a long, measured candle-burner built from detuned, chorused guitars, molasses-like bass, and downcast lyrics. It’s a rare instance where Bell turns the heat down to croon mournfully about Cold War dread; everywhere else has her in high-octane mode, fluctuating between a versatile vibrato, a menacing low and a full-throated scream. On “It Stinks” she channels her frustration about the minimization of her voice against speedy punk riffs; it’s followed up by an equally speedy ode to tripping on “Free Fall From Space,” on which Bell lets out an insane wail that seems to bend time. Throughout this octet, she’s a dynamic hurricane that gamely upgrades whatever the band throws down.

That’s not to discount the efforts of who’s playing behind her. “World of Your Future” is a kick-ass opener for the bizarre, polyphonic way the bass and guitar clash against each other. “Swing Set” leans into a bluesy progression executed competently by Martin’s chicken-picked guitar and Tom Hendrickson’s pattering drums. “I’m Dead’s” lead guitar glides over the band’s dirge like a metal cloud; brief closing track “Goin’ Down” forms the most explicit metal track here, as twin guitars play in parallel like an early Metallica cut. Based on the cuts presented, Free Fall In Space is as much a document of its members’ simpatico chemistry as it is a showcase for Bell’s wicked power.

Whether it will achieve its intended effect remains to be seen. Nearly two years after bringing Bam Bam back from obscurity, Martin and Ledgerwood’s efforts have resulted in revisionist articles in KEXP and other custodians of Seattle’s musical history, and the tumult stemming from the last year has helped bring the issue of Bell’s eradication from grunge’s liner notes into further prominence.

You could argue that this country doesn’t need music like this anymore, and you wouldn’t be wrong; hard rock, especially in its antiquated forms, is years out of fashion in a changing cultural landscape, and those that do want to hear it have tons of records to choose from. What the nation does need, however, is yet another reminder of how insidious its ancient problems lay: that history is a razor often held by a single hand.

Note: The original article stated that the band’s bassist was Scott Fitzgerald. Corrections have been made to ensure that actual bassist Scott Ledgerwood is not confused with the writer of the Great Gatsby. Apologies and embarrassments.