Imix
Records Afterhours
Ohm
31 NW 1st
Ave., 223-9919
Late (following
the Systemwide/Sound Secretion show) Friday, June 9
Cover
So there I am, on my way up to Imix Records Studios on
Mount Hood. Ben, my trusty and devoted photographer, sits
beside me, basking in the mountain sun. We wind our way
around the base of the mountain, entertaining ourselves
with conspiracy theories, reminiscences of criminal justice
and ooohh, look at the lovely clouds....
But we are on a mission. A mission to contact the cabal
behind one of the few "electronic" music labels in Oregon.
Imix Records: perhaps the most influential outfit to come
out of the state; a small, loud insurgency in West Coast
DJ culture.
Yes, !Viva la Revolución! But would Ben survive?
Would I? Sure, I know the Imix junta from 'round the club
Ohm, where they throw propaganda rallies and I do a job
of work now and again, but I'm hardly among the ranks of
their trusted Agents. Do I know they haven't summoned us
to these forsaken boondocks to kill us? No, I do not.
I'm somewhat reassured when Manoj Mathew, Imix's Events
Minister, and Troy Shawhan ("General Manager"--slippery
damn title if there ever was one) agree to escort us up
the mountain. After a short trip down a bumpy dirt road,
we pull up outside the creative bunker that is Imix
Records. Dogs are scattered around the driveway, and I am
advised not to touch "Bear," a 90-pound shaggy beast, unless
I want to smell like arse. I take note.
We settle outside and are immediately joined by Rico, Chief
Officer and self-proclaimed virgin, Damien Salza, Engineering
Minister, and James Capricorn, Recruiter. An imposing figure
of Buddha, surrounded by flowers, plants and bright colors,
catches our eyes.
Manoj talks tactics. "What we are trying to do is bring
the underground and above-ground together, establishing
a safer, easily accessible electronic community within Portland,
if not the rest of the country," he says. Capitalizing on
alliances with San Francisco's electronic armies, Imix has
hosted Northwestern fact-finding tours by luminaries like
John Howard, DJ Spun, Freaky Chakra and ETI, as well as
their own productions.
Not that it's all been milk and honey.
"Back in the day, it was a question of what to do with
our last five bucks, pizza or vinyl?" Mathew says. "We'd
buy a slice from Rocco's and all take turns spinning one
record!" If I were Manoj, who weighs in at about 105, I
would have legged it with the $5 for the nearest Shari's
for a plateful of fried animal product. But that's dedication
for you.
"We think he has worms," the others tell me.
Whatever their internal afflictions, communication seems
to play a big part in the Imix crew's vision of the future.
"With the ability to use the Internet for distribution while
providing knowledge and awareness to the DJs and listeners
respectively, smaller labels such as ours can manage their
own business affairs outside of the major cities while not
losing any integrity or the organic feel of our focus,"
proclaims Shawhan grandly.
Imix reaches out to the local electronic community with
large, free outdoor parties, including some events in Pioneer
Courthouse Square. "Anyone and everyone was invited to these
shows," says Mathew. "Parents and kids would show up and
enjoy the music; everyone would have a great time. There's
a togetherness that comes from within the 'tribe,' all dancing
to the beat of a drum. You don't need drugs for that."
"Indeed," I agree as I crack open another can of PBR and
resist touching Bear for fear of smelling like arse. I direct
him toward Ben, who starts to whimper.
In a day and age rife with fears fueled by the media's
numerous where are your kids after dark?!? "exposés,"
it's nice to see someone try to give the young 'uns somewhere
safe to play. Many of the underage kids who follow the scene
can't get into organized events. While this could make for
dangerous, unregulated parties, Imix provides a rent-to-own
sound system that can only be used in a professionally organized
environment, helping to eliminate any threat of outside
anxiety or trouble with the officials.
"We invited Vera Katz and the police and fire chiefs to
our record-release party," notes Capricorn. "They didn't
show."
After I pay a quick visit to the bathroom to catch another
glorious view of the surroundings, we are invited into the
studio to listen to some upcoming releases for the year.
I gaze lovingly at the stacks of blinking red and blue lights.
Troy asks Damien to put on a little number that he and
John Howard have been working on. My elbows start swaying
and before I know it, this white boy from the People's Republic
of North London is getting down! Mmm, nice. We experience
some great ambient grooves, a little Fila Brazilia-sounding
funk, then over to some downtempo house from Weirding Module.
A broad spectrum of music and some lovely production flows
around the studio, which leads me to believe that Imix Records
and its artists, including Rico & Rock and Capricorn,
have a bright future ahead of them--a future that transcends
current trends.
As ever-loyal Ben and I prepare to depart, we recount tales
of hardcore DJing, lost love and dubious intestine/bowel
extensions. But not before we partake in some celebratory
discharge of illegal fireworks. Fuses are lit, men run screaming
like little girls and I take one right in the shoulder for
Queen and Country. Yes, the revolution is upon us. What
a great time to be part of the tribe.
Rico, Imix Chief Officer and self-proclaimed virgin.BEN
GUZMANEditor's note:
We savagely beat writer Matthew Moss until he admitted that
he does odd jobs around Ohm, including arranging patio deck
chairs and shuffling e-mail. Satisfied that he's not some
Imix goon, we thrashed him some more.
Moss had it coming; ask the city soccer league ref who
recently had to dish him a yellow card for Violent Misconduct.
Moss is depraved, but we damn well taught him a lesson.
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Willamette Week | originally
published May 10,
2000
|
