1989 – I’ve retraced my steps a thousand times (oh yeah)

Operation Ivy, ‘Bombshell’

Remember when we were stuck home for weeks and months at a time in the early Twenties? Nowhere to be and nothing to do? While you lot were learning new recipes, taking up new hobbies and making lasting, potentially profitable improvements to your homes, I was watching YouTube.

Every week or so, a bloke called Matt Freeman would post videos of himself playing bass live along with some songs on which he’d originally played. That’s all well and good (and a bit self-indulgent really), but for the important fact that Matt Freeman is one of the greatest bass guitar players of all time.

Freeman helped shift the ska-punk sound to the forefront of Californian punk with Operation Ivy in the late Eighties, then brought punk rock music itself back into the mainstream during the Nineties as a member of Rancid. I loved the urgency of the Op Ivy sound — political correctness gone ska; while Rancid supplied the grit-your-teeth songs of survival and thrived on deeper than your average lyrics.

The Bass Bunker sessions, those videos on YouTube, were an entertainment highlight of lockdowns for me. Drinking in the details as you watch Freeman employ his rapid-fire technique, seeing how it does so much more than underpin the guitar sound. He scales high and low on every root note, picking off every progression and livening up the low end. I’ve never seen Rancid live, as it happens, but it’s probably for the best – I’d only spend the entire show staring slack-jawed at Freeman’s playing style.

My favourite Bass Bunker video is for Op Ivy’s ‘Bombshell’. The original song is a minute-and-a-bit dash through a whirlwind one-night stand, and its subsequent life-changing effect on its narrator. But Freeman’s recent reinterpretation on video also showcases my favourite thing about watching these videos: the glint in his eye as he nails the really tricky bits he originally authored over 30 years prior. It’s a very wholesome watch, all things considered.

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Every band starts life in their drummer’s garage learning how to play their cover versions. It defines your vocabulary as musicians, sets sonic boundaries, and helps you eke out an overall sound together. If you’re sprinkling Nirvana songs into your set, you’re hardly likely to break out the brass section and have a stab at ska within your own compositions. Almost every band I was ever in learned a couple of covers.

In my first band we struggled to play a couple of chords. (In fact, I struggled to play any – that’s why I was the singer.) We covered two Vaselines songs – yes, the same ones Nirvana did – because they sounded easy enough to play. As we learned, we grew a bit more confident in our instruments and our selves.

So by the time my core group of friends had grown up some, both in the musical and personal sense, we pushed ourselves more. But by far the one who’d pushed himself most was our secret weapon – an absolute beast of a bass player. The highlight of watching Andy’s previous band play was their take on Rancid’s ‘Maxwell Murder’ – and yes, Andy channelled Matt Freeman as he absolutely nailed that solo.

Our confidence boosted by his bass-playing brilliance, our new band convened in a different drummer’s garage to put our personal spin on a couple of other existing songs. (We were called White Vest. Guess what our favourite action movie was.) As well as ‘All Ages’ by Bristol’s Five Knuckle, we also picked up ‘Bombshell’ after repeated listens to the Op Ivy album in Andy’s Ford Fiesta. Having finally discovered an elusive third powerchord, I sang and played rhythm guitar on some songs including this doozy. It was always over all too quickly, partly because the song’s barely a minute long, but also because we sometimes raced each other to the finish.

In terms of musicianship and creativity, the music I’m most proud of creating came five or so years later, collaborating and creating with my older brother. But looking back, my favourite memories of being in any band came from being in that garage.

A crate of Fosters Ice and regularly scheduled Sega Dreamcast breaks, plus Crossbar Challenges on a child’s swing-set; a lift to the pub from the drummer’s dad, relieved the noise from the garage had abated for another few days. Another afternoon and evening with my friends, discovering our creativity and passion for playing music. And for having an excuse to hang out. That’s what puts the glint back in my eye when I hear ‘Bombshell’ these days.