Sara Peté and James Maeda are two stalwarts of the Olympia underground. We first met each of them individually through their outposts at the Olympia Timberland Library and Rainy Day Records, respectively—two essential pieces of the culture of downtown. But it became obvious that they’re a pair of eccentrics who magnetically pull toward each other with some kind of mystical combustion, and together they have created some of the most amazing collections this side of the Mississippi. James has taken it upon himself to become the leading historian on Olympia flyers from the 1980s and 1990s—the times during which the punk rock culture of the town had a huge impact on not just the rest of the country, but the world at large, through riot grrrl and what was to be later referred to as “grunge.” Neither of them is originally from Olympia, but many of their collections—like jumbuttons, a thing that seems to only exist at Lakefair, the yearly downtown carnival—are specific to the region. The amount of history that dwells inside their modest home is immense, and they are dutiful keepers.
Sarah and I both think of Calvin now as our ex-employer; we contributed our years in the trenches of rust and toil that were working at K, Calvin’s record label. But before that, we were both fans. Calvin sings in a growling baritone that is equally tender and morose. We listened exhaustively to records by Beat Happening, The Halo Benders, and Dub Narcotic Sound System, all released by K. Calvin is a manifestation of his creativity: he is stuck in his ways, and endlessly passionate, but only about the things that he grants entrance into his life. Hopefully, in highlighting a couple of his collections (he seems to have many), we have allowed some of that passion to seep out into the world. He is a character who is always on-stage, always performing, always reciting a line or two that he’s gotten cues for from off in the wings, someone whispering somewhere, a memory. We did our interview with him following a photo-shoot to promote the album that he’s currently working on; during the shoot he stretched a muscle in his neck too far. He put his hands on his head, in pain. “It’s like an ice cream headache,” he said. To the rest of us, it is a brain freeze. But to Calvin, it is an ice cream headache. A teddy bear with real teeth and claws. See what Calvin is up to by visiting the K website, or do your true duty of fandom and buy the synagogue with the bright blue roof that was the site of the K office for the past decade-plus (where we spent our years of service). You can turn it into a pork restaurant or something.