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.
