Russ Battaglia and Bruce Pavitt ca. 1984 (Image: Bruce Pavitt)

Exploring the neighborhood’s record-shop history

In the summer of 1984, Russ Battaglia and Bruce Pavitt were two former record store employees—recently unemployed after the closing of Capitol Hill’s Bomb Shelter Records in the Broadway Arcade–  when they decided to open Fallout Records & Skateboards in a tiny storefront on E Olive Way. The pair, who met five years earlier at Evergreen State College, were both “creative people who were interested in the emerging punk rock culture,” Pavitt recently recalled.

Fallout Records quickly became the center of alternative, indie, and DIY music, ‘zines, comics, and skateboarding, hosting in-store performances by Hüsker Dü, Sonic Youth, the White Stripes, and many other bands and musicians. Artists and illustrators Peter Bagge, Daniel Clowes, Robert Crumb, and Jim Woodring visited the shop to sign books and hang out. The shop even had two late-night TV commercials featuring the U-Men rummaging through stacks of records and racks of T-shirts and skaters barreling down John Street and dodging traffic on Broadway en route to Fallout. Skateboarding icon Chris “Wez” Lundry worked at Fallout, as did Tim Hayes, who was hired in 1986 and bought the store from Russ and Janet Battaglia in 1999 (Pavitt left Fallout a couple of years after it opened to launch the Sub Pop record label).

Fallout Records closed permanently in February 2003, swept away by the neighborhood’s changing demographics and dynamics. It was an impressive 20-year run for a record shop that frowned on pop music and strictly adhered to its punk ethos. Today, the bar Montana operates in the space formerly occupied by Fallout. But the store is still remembered. “My wife was in Montana a couple of weeks ago with some girlfriends,” Hayes told me. “One of them told the waiter, ‘Did you know this used to be a record store?’ He said, ‘I know. It was Fallout.’”

As part of my ongoing interest in exploring Capitol Hill’s music-related history, Pavitt and Hayes recalled their experiences at Fallout Records.

Bruce Pavitt behind the counter at Fallout Records ca. 1984 — (Image: Bruce Pavitt)

Bruce Pavitt
Fallout Records co-founder (1984-1985)

“[We] were interested in carrying on the indie record store and skate shop idea.”
I remember Bomb Shelter [Records] being open for around six months [between] September 1983 [and] February 1984. [It] was focused on indie music, and we experimented with selling skateboards as well. After [Bomb Shelter] closed, Russ and I were interested in carrying on the indie record store and skate shop idea. It was not an obvious match when we started.

“The location was good, and the rent was cheap.”
Russ located the Fallout space at Denny and Olive. The location was good, and the rent was cheap. We turned the place around rather quickly after discovery. Of course, the name Fallout was a reference to Bomb Shelter. So, there very definitely was a connection between the two stores.

“The skateboards did more business than the records.”
In the mid-1980s, the U.S. indie/punk scene was coming into focus. In particular, there was a lot of “hardcore” punk happening, and a lot of those fans liked to skate. The skateboards did more business than the records, and really helped keep the doors open. The skaters loved hardcore, and we sold a lot of Social Distortion, Black Flag, JFA, and Hüsker Dü. We went deeper into promoting the skate culture and even sponsored a skate competition called Wake Up and Smell the Pavement.

“Fallout helped me understand the desire for teens to create their own culture.”
I left Fallout after a year as I wanted to pursue Sub Pop as a record label. It was a cassette ‘zine at the time. My time at Fallout helped me to better understand the desire for teens to create their own culture. Fallout inspired a number of young people from across Washington state. Kids would travel from Olympia, Spokane, and Wenatchee just to buy records from our store. Some of [our] customers would go on to form bands which would put Seattle on the map.

Fallout Records signage on East Olive Way ca. 1984 — (Image: Bruce Pavitt)

Tim Hayes
Fallout Records Employee (1986-1990) and Owner (1999-2003)

“[Fallout] had more of a clubhouse feel.”
Fallout wasn’t just a record store. It had more of a clubhouse feel. You weren’t there just to purchase something. You were there to get inspired, listen to conversations, learn something, and find out what was new. If you wanted to know what was going on musically—not just around the world but in the city itself—you would go to Fallout.

“It was only natural for a record store like Fallout to exist on Capitol Hill.”
A lot of musicians, artists, and creative types lived on Capitol Hill because it was cheap. I lived on Capitol Hill because it was the only place I could afford. It was only natural for a record store like Fallout to exist on Capitol Hill. It was perfect. Your parents could drop you off on Broadway, and you could skate down to Fallout.

“Who wouldn’t want to work there?”
Around 1985, I got a job at Gregg’s Greenlake Cycle. They had a skateboard department and rented roller skates. I’d go into Fallout, which also sold skateboards, and buy a record or three and a set of skateboard wheels. Mostly, I’d buy music. Russ asked me if I wanted to work at Fallout. Who wouldn’t want to work there? I went back to Gregg’s and gave my two-week notice immediately. I jumped right into Fallout with both feet, working close to full-time along with Russ, Janet, and Larry Reid. I never actually worked behind the counter with Bruce. At that point, I think he was starting to transition out of Fallout and into Sub Pop.

“Andy Wood would come in and sell cassettes he recorded.”
A lot of local artists would have stuff on consignment. Andy Wood of Mother Love Bone would come in and sell cassettes he recorded solo or just jamming with [Pearl Jam guitarist] Stone Gossard at home. I still have those cassettes and the flyer we posted at Fallout for those cassettes. Tom Price of the U-Men, the guys from Mudhoney and Soundgarden, they would come by every so often. Fallout Records was an alternative to everything else. We wanted to inspire people who wanted to start something different. Distributors of [Top 40] music would have nothing to do with Fallout Records. They just looked the other way.

“I’m going to pitch a TV series about Fallout.”
When Big Black did their last show, [Steve] Albini hung out at Fallout all the time. He’d come in and read Reid Fleming’s World’s Toughest Milkman. We’d have actors. George Wendt—the big, jolly guy on Cheers—was hanging out with Max Perlich, who played the squirrely guy in Drugstore Cowboy. They were shooting a movie in town for two or three weeks. George went to Fallout even more than Max. Alan Sacks, the guy who did Welcome Back, Kotter, was doing some movie in Seattle for a month or longer. He was in Fallout almost every day. He just loved it—the vibe, the energy. He would sit in the corner and suddenly butt up next to a customer and start shooting the breeze. He was such a cool dude. Really curious. So funny. This was right off the heels of the skateboard movie Thrashin’, [which he co-wrote and produced]. Before he split to go back to Hollywood or Los Angeles, he said, “Guys, I’m going to pitch a TV series about Fallout.” We kind of almost forgot about it. A month or two later, we get this call from Alan saying, “I’ve been trying to pitch this Fallout Records TV series, but they’re not biting.”

“All you had to do was play something once, and you could turn someone onto it.”
Janet brought in the White Stripes singles from the beginning. At record stores, all you had to do was play something once, and you could turn someone onto it. We would play the White Stripes singles—this was back when [the band] only had singles. We sold so many of their records. When [the band] came to Fallout Records and played, I believe they were on their second or third record. Speaking of which, on a side note, the band contacted me for some photos I shot to include in the book for the De Stijl 20th Anniversary Box Set. It also includes a DVD of their performance at Fallout.

“We were still fighting for the underdog.”
I noticed [Russ and Janet] were burned out. I approached them [in 1999] and asked if they would be interested in selling Fallout Records to me. I told them I would expand the records and keep the aesthetics of Fallout, but instead of just doing the rock version, I wanted to do the music version of that aesthetic—include free jazz, soul, and blues. I wanted to bring that openness to the store. I mean, free jazz is punk. Blues and soul can be that way, too. I wanted to bring all that openness to the store. Russ and Janet raised their eyebrows and said, “Well, that sounds pretty cool.”

“My heart just dropped.”
One day, a guy, probably in his late twenties, came in around noon or one o’clock in the afternoon. He was a regular shopper who came in once every three weeks. He asked me how things were going, and I said, “Fine. Business has been good.” He said, “Well, it might be better if you sold punk music.” My heart just dropped. I said, “What do you think is in the store?” I wasn’t selling the Strokes, the Vines, or Green Day—I mean, we sold Green Day in the beginning when they were on the Lookout label. Every record store in the city is going to sell those albums. I said, “Explore what I have in the store. You will find the punk ideal in all aspects of music here.”

“Someone across the street is trying to take a Saturday afternoon nap.”
Neighborhood gentrification put a nail in the coffin [at Fallout]. We had been having in-store performances on Saturdays for a long time, usually at three o’clock in the afternoon. People moved to Capitol Hill to be where things were happening. All of a sudden, I’m getting cops called on me [because] someone across the street is trying to take a Saturday afternoon nap. I told them, “We’ve been doing in-store performances longer than any of these people have been living in the buildings in the neighborhood.”

“Fallout was fiercely independent to the very end, which I’m very proud of.”
Things were transitioning. At that point, a lot of people were starting to buy things online. Instead of coming to Fallout Records because I carried stuff a lot of other places wouldn’t carry, online forums and websites sold those things. Someone could have come in and offered a million dollars for the shop. But if they were going to gentrify it or somehow disrespect the name of Fallout Records, there’s no way in hell I would have taken that money. That’s the honest-to-God truth. Fallout was fiercely independent to the very end, which I’m very proud of.

Capitol Hill resident Todd Matthews is a writer, editor, and journalist whose work has appeared in more than two dozen magazines, newspapers, books, and other publications in print and online over the past 25 years.

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