Rathouse released only two slabs. But seeing as Rathouse was really just a bunch of dudes (and ladies) living in some house in the Central District of Seattle, the small run of pressings shouldn’t be all that surprising.

The ‘label,’ if it can actually be called that, was based around members of the Gits who were in residence at punk house. Of course, the most immediate story surrounding all of this is that of Mia Zapata, her music and her ultimate demise. But before she was taken from her friends, family and band mates, Zapata was able to contribute a few tracks to the Bobbing for Pavement compilation.

Apart from the fact that the title of the disc is just short of hilarious, the album remains an important cultural land-marker for whatever was happening in the Northwest during the early ‘90s. It could be assumed that there was one centrally located scene that every band was a part of. That, though, seems to be an untruth.

Instead, the Rathouse bands were apparently detached from the larger (soon to be dubbed) grunge thing that focused on Sub Pop affiliated groups. But regardless of that, the folks that contributed to Bobbing for Pavement were as capable as the bands down the road that would soon garner million dollar contracts and the like. Unfortunately, no one from the Rathouse sphere would go on to make any sort of impact on a national scale. That being said, the Gits were poised for a major label deal and a national tour. It just didn’t happen.

So while all of that (sad) history is important in understanding this document, Gas Huffer, who would continue to record throughout the decades following the release of the 1991 compilation, begin things in a sort of retro-rock mode with a keen eye towards punk. The two efforts that the band gives up constitute some of the stronger moments on the compilation, but aren’t really all that memorable in a grand sense.

Again, returning to the Gits and Zapata, which turn in tracks three and four – the group’s “Here’s to Your Fuck” is really the most entertaining track on the entirety of Bobbing for Pavement. There’s a Black Flag flair to the guitar, even if those momentary bridges come off a bit too metally for anyone’s taste. The track is as close to hardcore as anything from the above ground Seattle scene – or subterra either – without being out and out thrash.

The ensemble’s other offering – “Ain’t Got No Right” – and it’s willfully bad grammar, isn’t the greatest thing the band released, but wouldn’t wind up being represented on either of the Gits’ full lengths.

Given over to friend’s bands, the remainder of the disc less than urgent as D.C. Beggars even approximate the Gits in muted tones. Big Brown House is silly in retrospect, but the dirty punk of the Derelicts makes up for a bit of the perceived shortcomings over the remainder of the disc. Regardless, though, Bobbing for Pavement is an indispensible historical document. Cop it and learn something.