Primal History


Preface

The Berkeley storefront at 2420 Parker Street is perhaps the most unassuming location for a retail shop in all of the city's famed Telegraph Avenue shopping strip. Aside from a bright yellow sign on the side of the building, which you might be able to see from Telegraph if you squint hard enough, there's very little to indicate that anything is going on past the small Japanese tea-house and family-owned laundromat that precede it. Further past the shop are rows of high-budget houses and priced-out apartment complexes that naturally eschew the pedestrian shopping traffic found on the main drag. And the storefront itself? Aside from a pair of glass doors and a small window, the bold concrete building kind of looks like, well, a garage.

It's no wonder then that, to this day, several people still find themselves walking into Primal Records for the first time, asking, "How long have you guys been here?"

1988
Barrie Eves encounters his first brush with UK acid house, but it's not in a dank warehouse or open field somewhere in Britain. Having recently moved to San Francisco's Bay Area to start a life together with his newlywed American wife, Karen, the 25-year-old British ex-pat was forced to gather second-hand details of this revolutionary (and largely illegal) youth culture from his friends and family overseas. His brother Graham became a medium of sorts, exporting cassette tapes from London whenever he had the chance. This was the early sound of UK acid house: a cut-and-paste menagerie of twisted breakbeat, screeching acid, overzealous sampling, and imported U.S. house and techno tracks that had found an unlikely home overseas after being shunned on their native soil.

The Summer Of Love, 1988
On his first visit home since moving to America, Barrie spends his first night back in London. There, he and his brother Graham take in an early evening warm-up party at the Limelight club in Leicester Square before heading off to Kings Cross, where throngs of people would regularly gather until details for an all-night party were announced. Car radios were tuned into pirate stations, phone calls were placed to covert info lines. When the location was finally disclosed, the Eves found themselves among 2500 revelers who had come to descend upon, fittingly enough, an abandoned mental hospital. British police, who were still clueless about the Acid House movement, directed traffic toward legal parking. Menacing young men with ski masks and pitbulls provided security for the event. And The Ratpack, a notorious UK hardcore breakbeat act, played their DJ set underneath the party's only source of light--a single bulb that carelessly dangled off of a ceiling wire.

1990
Upon returning to the States, Eves completed his conversion to Acid House, spending long weekends at Big Heart City's Love parties in San Francisco--where early West Coast DJs like Doc Martin and Marques Wyatt lent a domestic angle to the sound--or in Los Angeles, where the British Boys' Club (BBC) parties became a magnet for other like-minded Brits living in America. Indeed, over the next few years, California developed a strong underground party scene of its own--from small "break-in" parties with only a few hundred people to a massive L.A. rave scene that, at its peak, flexed a drawing muscle that wrangled up to 30,000 people to a single event. West Coast Acid House had finally arrived with only one glitch: There was hardly any place to buy the music.

Spring, 1992
Barrie returns to London for a visit when, on the suggestion of his friend and fellow British ex-patriate DJ Jon Williams, he was prompted to visit Zoom Records--a small, but well-sorted record shop located above a clothing boutique in Camden. He was impressed by how connected the store was to the scene and by how loyal its customers were to the tastemaking judgments of its staff. Williams, who had recently moved to the Bay Area, was a former Zoom employee; on the day that Barrie first paid his visit to the store, he found respected London DJ Billy Nasty and a young Rob Mello behind the counter. Though he knew nothing about running a successful retail store (at the time he paid his bills through carpentry), Eves came home from London inspired and determined to open a record shop of his own.

Winter, 1992
By this time, San Francisco had three record stores that catered to the city's growing DJ clientele. The Castro area's Record Rack was the oldest of them, and for a long time, served as the only local outlet for dance vinyl. BPM became the city's very first DJ vinyl-only shop and was a cornerstone in the development of San Francisco's house music scene. And by the tail end of 1992, Tweekin' Records opened its doors in the Lower Haight area. Still, the scene was growing at an unprecedented rate, and many of the Bay Area partygoers who contributed to the success of the legendary Gathering, Full Moon, and Wicked parties from this era were not actually from the city at all. Like Barrie and Karen Eves, many of them lived across the bridge in Oakland, Berkeley, and several other East Bay neighborhoods. Keenly, this is where Barrie decided he'd set up shop.


1993
After successfully securing a 400-square foot commercial space inside a Berkeley shopping alcove at 2556 Telegraph Avenue, Barrie christens the store Primal Records. (Other names like "Vital" and "Fat Beats for Fat Boys" were, umm, wisely discarded.) He opened the store immediately and almost exclusively on his credit cards. In those days, there was very little backstock to speak of, so whatever new releases were available that week comprised the total stock of his store on opening day. Much to his surprise--and certainly, relief--people came.

Spring, 1994
In only a year, Primal Records outgrows its space on Telegraph Avenue and moves into a much larger storefront around the corner on nearby Parker Street. The store's biggest sellers reflected the climate of the scene at the time: With hardly any local music being produced, most of the bins in the store were rammed with imported UK and Italian house tracks. Indeed, Primal's first out-of-the-box hit record was a reggae-injected house tune called "Rockers To Rockers" by the UK-based Original Rockers for the Different Drummer label. But just what was a hit by Primal's standards in 1993? The store managed to sell a measly, though contextually impressive, 50 copies. (The Original Rockers went on to change their name to Rockers Hi-Fi and achieved international success in the wake of the Big Beat explosion of 1998.)

Summer, 1994
By all accounts, Barrie Eves had turned his aspiration into a successful reality. He was digging himself out of debt and providing the House Music community with a much-needed focal point in the East Bay. He was finally able to pay the store's earliest employees--a small, but close-knit group of friends he knew from the scene--and, in perhaps his most significant personal achievement, he had finally found a job that he could truly stand behind. Things had been going so well, in fact, that when Barrie arrived at the shop one morning in 1994 to discover that Primal Records had been burnt down to the ground, he could only stand in the middle of Parker Street, cursing whoever ended it. And that was before he remembered that the store was completely uninsured.

When the smoke finally cleared and the culprit was fingered (a small cup of "cigarette" butts that had not been extinguished properly), the Berkeley Fire Department left Barrie with a scene he never thought he'd see. Everything in the store had been affected to some extent; every record in the store had been either covered in soot or completely melted. The only things that managed to survive the blaze, in fact, were the workhorse Technics 1200 turntables that had been used for listening stations and the actual walls themselves--meaning that, for once, working out of a concrete garage had paid off in some small way.

For the next week, the small staff at Primal Records spent their days cleaning and repainting the store, attempting to save anything that was salvageable, and working toward the goal of a speedy recovery. When the store finally did reopen its doors only one week later, it was almost as if the last two years had never happened. Things inside looked much like they did back in March of 1993: After losing over $15,000 worth of back catalog, the current stock consisted solely of that week's new releases, and every record that had miraculously escaped the heat of the fire from warpdom was given a plain white sleeve and a used vinyl price. Not for the first time, Primal Records was starting from scratch.

Fortunately, things were much easier the second time around, and even though the store smelled like burnt plastic for the better part of the following year, Primal Records managed to make a respectable financial recovery in the same amount of time it took to finally air the place out.


1995-1998
After the fire, a new face began emerging at Primal Records. Longtime customer Solar Langevin paved the way when he joined the staff in between co-producing San Francisco's now legendary (and then-weekly) Sunset parties. Having shopped at Primal since its inception--mostly for Chicago acid house records, he recalls--Langevin started by working one day a week in trade for records, and then full-time not too long after.

In early 1997, shortly after he and Karen became the proud parents of twin boys, Barrie Eves hired Primal's very first official store buyer, Mark E. Quark--a popular Southern California DJ and respected house music buyer for Off The Record in San Diego. With all of the early Primal employees having defected for one reason or another by this point, the new breed at Primal became an ambitious bunch. Popular DJ and producer Joshua Michaels conceived the handprint design that went on to become Primal's ubiquitous logo. The store itself branched off into a record label, releasing the Lumpheads' "Disco Recovery" 12-inch in January of 1997. And Eves, in addition to working in the store and raising a family, joined one of the city's most popular production outfits, Mephisto Odyssey, before the year came to a close.

The final piece of the puzzle in Primal's second phase came in early 1998 when everyone noticed that one of their regular customers, a young up-and-coming DJ from San Jose, had taken a liking to the store--so much so, that he would often spend entire days combing through records, watching the store when someone needed a coffee break, and even filing other people's records away. It wasn't long before Hector Moralez found his name on the Primal payroll.

Spring, 1998
It was difficult to remain unaffected by the burgeoning internet culture and technology-mad aura that enveloped the Bay Area in the mid-'90s. These were the industry's salad days, when the city was invaded by the Silicon Valley gold rush and every yuppie worth his salt had an idea for a website and a high line of venture capital to spend. Primal employee Malcolm McAtee wasn't looking for investors, but he didn't think it would be a bad idea to register the domain name for Primal Records.

Meanwhile, back in England, Graham Eves had become somewhat bored with his work. Having spent several years installing computer systems for car factories, he made the somewhat serendiptitious decision to move into website programming and design.

1999
The expansion of Primal Records had been imminent, but by 1999, it was inevitable. The retail outlet had become extremely successful despite a pair of competing stores that had opened in the area. The record label spawned a sister label, Primal Breaks, and maintained a prolific release schedule of its own that included new remix and production work from Simon, Tony Hewitt, and Terry Francis. And later in the year, Mephisto Odyssey signed an artist deal with Warner Bros. Records, securing release rights for their 12-inch vinyl output through Primal Records.

Though no one was quite sure what they actually planned to do with the Primal Records website by this point, Graham designed a simple "Coming Soon" design and posted it online. The URL was added to all of the record label's artwork, as well as to all of the Mephisto Odyssey album and single artwork that was being readied for release.

That summer, Hector Moralez was offered the warm-up slot on a European tour with fellow San Francisco DJ Rasoul. Rebecca Watkins was hired to fill in for Hector while he was away, but not surprisingly, after he returned, she was asked to stay.

2000
After almost a year of static, Primalrecords.com takes its bow, opening its online shop in April of 2000. Mark E. Quark generally handled the site updates, while Graham Eves began serving as the site's administrator from his home in England. Simple and unassuming, Primalrecords.com started out much in the same way as its parent company did--with zero fanfare and very little idea of what they were doing. Still, despite the fact that only 10 records were added to the online shop each week, word-of-mouth spread to a point where, by the end of the year, Primalrecords.com had developed a small and organic, but very loyal base of customers from around the world.

At the same time, Mark E. Quark made the announcement that he would be leaving the Bay Area for Seattle, and in effect, splintering the cohesive unit that had been running Primal Records for the first time in almost three years.

A few months following Mark's departure, Norman Arenas, an employee at Chicago's legendary Gramaphone Records, walked into Primal on a shopping trip where he met Hector, Solar, and Barrie for the first time. Before he left, Norman mentioned that he was considering a move to the East Bay in early 2001. Even though Barrie hardly knew him, he told Norman to call if he ever managed to make it out of Chicago.


2001
In mid-January of 2001, Norman packed his things up in a Ryder truck and drove cross-country with his friend and fellow Gramaphone employee Justin Corbett. Like true vinyl junkies, the pair whimsically unloaded the truck into Norman's new Oakland digs and headed straight to Primal Records for a record run. Norman gave Barrie his cell phone number that night, and within 24 hours, Barrie called to ask whether or not he wanted to come in for work. Hardly a box was unpacked before Norman reported for his first day at the job.

By this time, Primalrecords.com had begun its ascendent rise in business. Norman started a Progressive House section both in the store and online, and between him and Solar, the web updates became much bigger and more regular in their arrival. As a result, the online business began booming, with each month in 2001 generating higher sales than the previous one. The store had also been experiencing a boom of sorts, and faced with the rapid growth of both ventures, the staff was often struggling to just get by--at times, working 10-hour days or 7-day weeks. On top of this, several of Primal's core staff members were also touring DJs and musicians. As summer approached, it had become painfully obvious that Primal needed to expand once more.

In late June, Norman received a call from his friend Justin, who had helped him move from Chicago. It turned out that he, too, was considering a move to the East Bay. On August 11--with Hector, Solar, and Norman all playing gigs in Europe--Justin arrived at Primal Records for a crash course in winging it.

By year's end, Primalrecords.com had finally come into its own: There were over 2000 titles in stock at any given moment, thousands of registered members, a twice-weekly e-mail newsletter, and--in what might have been their greatest achievement--a reputation for distributing a hand-picked selection of only the highest quality dance records online and in-store.

Not bad for a small group of DJs with a two-desk office the size of a cubicle.

2002
As Primal Records approaches its tenth anniversary in 2003, the staff remains as unassuming and hard-working as ever. With the retail store and online shop experiencing unprecedented success, talk about resurrecting the dormant Primal label imprint had begun in earnest. Hector Moralez was, by this point, a successful producer in his own right as one-half of Fries & Bridges--a bi-continental production outfit he formed with French DJ and producer Phil Weeks. An EP of new material was commissioned in spring of 2002, and the final result was The Affiliated Drums EP Vol. 1--the first in a series of 12-inches to be produced for the Primal Records label.

All the while, Norman expressed a strong desire to create a label that reflected his own taste in tech-house, deep tribal, and tougher New York-flavored house. Instead of striking out on his own, however, he kept the venture in the family by partnering with Barrie in the label's finances and christening the imprint PR2 Recordings. The debut release for the label--an impressive collaboration between San Francisco DJs Adnan and Amit Shoham--was signed by June, and Vancouver friend and producer Jay Tripwire was commissioned to do the remix shortly thereafter. By August, Primal Records and its PR2 sister label had secured a release schedule for the rest of the year that included new remix and production work from Il Stefano & Mr. Fantastic, Joshua, Wyatt Earp & DJ Foxx, and tech-house newcomer Trey Smith.

Catching the flurry of activity, Rebecca Watkins zeroed in on her own talents as a promoter and, in June, she announced the first in a monthly series of Primal-sponsored parties. Dubbed Get Underground!, Rebecca's keen sense for booking and promotion mixed with a pioneering spirit to take the parties out of the clubs and back into the streets proved to be a successful formula. To date, Get Underground! has attracted the likes of Tony Hewitt, Jeno, Wally Callerio, and Phil Weeks alongside a rolling cast of Primal Records residents and friends--all inside of a downtown Oakland basement loft.

And of course, there's the store. The focal point and the anchor of everything. As busy as its ever been, if not more. It's still there, if you can find it.

In July of 2002, Primalrecords.com was redesigned and relaunched into what you have before you.

Epilogue
If Barrie Eves ever wanted anything out of Primal Records, it was the feeling of a community that rallied around a diverse array of music and culture. Having come from punk and dub and acid house, the Primal Records ethos has managed to carry itself into 10 years of ethical, staunchly independent, and--can you believe it?--largely successful business. There are no marketing plans, investors, or shareholders. There is no one in the equation of this business that does not own at least one Masters At Work or Todd Terry or Francois K record. And the staff itself--Barrie, Graham, Solar, Hector, Becky, Norman, Justin, and these days, long-time friend Oscar--proves its profound solidity by their nearly nonexistant turnover rate.

Sure, there's not enough light in the store. And sure, they have to share a bathroom with the adjacent laundromat which, truth be told, is an incredibly horrid room. And yeah, the shop gets really cold during the winter. Really cold. But who's got time to notice?

Welcome to Primal Records; our own paradise garage.

Epilogue Epilogue
Well lots has happened since we wrote the epilog and one day we'll get round to bringing it up to date.... early days.

© 2004 PRIMAL RECORDS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED