Matt Mikas

Please welcome Matt Mikas, the master of lounge music. By lounge, I don’t mean any of those tired, dull, electronic slow-tempo house beats that go on forever. Matt is the master of lounge music from the 1950s when people used to party in actual lounges and play quirky, offbeat, and sometimes out-of-this-world music on vinyl—the real deal.

Matt’s house is divided into two spaces. The first floor encompasses his living space and the lounge, of course. There are some random records here and there, but nothing extraordinary. The real gems of his first-hand collection lay on the second floor, which he uses as a hidden archive for his extremely diverse vinyl collection.

When I first stepped in, it looked like a usual open loft with gritty walls and strange-looking wallboards. Then Matt started peeling off these boards, and they revealed endless rows of tightly stacked records one by one.

We took our time in that room, picking and digging for Matt’s favorite music. After an hour or so, we returned to his living room to talk some more and listen to all those records.

Visiting Matt and his collection turned into one of those days when I felt lucky to do what I do. Most of the music I was unfamiliar with, and his eclectic taste gave me a sense of what city life was all about back when vinyl was your only option, and people would sit, lounge, and let the music play.

The entrance to the first floor looks innocent…

and then…

the magic happens…

“A playground for drunk drivers who left their suburban enclaves to party down in someone else’s front yard, leaving them with the mess and wreckage on Monday morning…”

What do you do for a living?

I do a lot of work as a scenic artist. I have over 10 years in the trade, scattered across various freelance and full-time gigs for several companies nationwide.

In the past, I’ve held several residencies as a specialty DJ in Florida. In the 90s, I was a burgeoning record collector who ran a vintage clothing store in Ybor City. The neighborhood was an abandoned historic district, Tampa’s original downtown, ghettoized by urban renewal projects in the late 1960s. By the mid-1980s, it had become a sort of gen-X, hipster-slum of underground culture specialty businesses, gritty D.I.Y. music venues, and punk-rock crash pads. Scattered amongst the older, baby-boomer artist community’s live/work spaces, all of which extended along seven blocks of mostly unoccupied turn-of-the-century brick storefronts and decrepit loft spaces. 

The area had the haunting and beautiful feeling of an abandoned movie set. It was an inner-city ghost town, a quiet echo left over from the Tampa cigar industry’s boom times in the early 1900s. Unfortunately, the “success” of these artsy and alternative establishments ultimately resulted in their immanent demise. Local media attention raised Ybor City’s profile to the notice of an investor class who quickly saw that the area had become rapidly gentrified.

Things changed quite dramatically from 1989 to 1995, but it was through gentrification that it was devoid of the typical residential type of development. Instead, this wave of “urban pioneers” simply invested their surplus cash in what they perceived as the quickest turn-around, the bar and nightclub business. 

The city helped by granting the whole neighborhood a “blanket wet-zoning.”A forgotten community of working-class and unemployed minorities, along with us scattered bohemian types, suddenly saw the few grocery stores, mom-and-pop diners, and immigrant-owned small businesses close up to become theme bars. The whole area was transmogrified into a sort of “drinking mall” of nightclubs. It still mainly remained a ghost town by day, but after dark, things went totally nuts.

A playground for drunk drivers who left their suburban enclaves to party down in someone else’s front yard, leaving them with the mess and wreckage on Monday morning…

But what does all this have to do with record collecting, you ask?

“It seemed like a good challenge and a chance to meet girls and get some free drinks. We formed what we called ‘The Deep Lounge Experience’ and, as a tag-team duo.”

Matt Mikas plus quirky googles.

“The thrill of the hunt that culminates with a celebration of the catch.”

Well, the point is, I had always been buying records that I liked to play in my store, mainly focusing on ‘70s funk and soul because that was the era of vintage clothes I liked to specialize in. And, in the early 1990s, as the CD player became the ubiquitous audio standard, a lot of people were dumping their entire record collections right along with their bell-bottomed Levi’s. So, the pickings were good, and I developed an ear for a hot tune, an eye for good record labels, and a sense of how music affected people while I played my favorite tracks as my customers shopped. It also became rather obvious at the same time that as the number of drinking establishments grew, so did their need to distinguish themselves from one another. To that end, my friend Erik Donaldson suggested that he and I jump in on the DJ game by opening up for a local Acid Jazz night hosted by DJ Muggles. 

It was still somewhat novel for a club DJ to be spinning old dusty records at this time. Tampa had a crew of working DJs who mostly spun new records, or at their most retro, sets from the same 500 or so “Alternative” hits of the 1980s. It seemed like a good challenge and a chance to meet girls and get some free drinks. We formed what we called “The Deep Lounge Experience” and, as a tag-team duo, warmed the early night crowds up with old Blue Note jazz-funk, Stax, and Motown burners, first-wave old-school hip-hop, disco-reggae, and whatever else we could find diggin’ in the thrift and fleas. 

Thus began an elemental shift in my relationship with vinyl music: The thrill of the hunt that culminates with a celebration of the catch. And, of course, those thrills would soon require a greater diversity of celebrations and larger, more exotic catches to maintain their intensity.

Eartha Kitt – “I Want To Be Evil.” “A nice double gatefold 45. I Want To Be Evil is both campy and vampy–a dollar well spent.”

Les Baxter – “Skins! (Part 3).” “Hard to believe that this record kicks as much ass as it does. A slamming percussion orgy that really makes you wonder what was going on in the 1950s household that played this album on the regular. A highly recommended introduction to the king of orchestral exotica showcased here at his minimal and propulsive best.”

Gerry Mulligan – “Gerry Mulligan And His Ten-Tette Presented By Gene Norman,” Oscar Peterson – “Oscar Peterson Plays George Gershwin.” “There’s something about how the visual elements of these wonderful 1950s minimalist record covers perfectly complement the music inside, and I can almost hear them inside the sleeves.”

Jackie Gleason – Lonesome Echo (Parts 1 & 2). “It is best to leave it inside the sleeve. Jackie Gleason’s syrupy orchestral schmaltz is about as surreal as a breakfast bagel I eat daily. Very normal with cream cheese. But you got to give it to the old dude for being a pot-smoking, UFO-chasing, comedian/band leader who was able to say, ‘Hey, Salvador, how about knocking out an album cover for me in your spare time?’”

“My education toward finding and appreciating a variety of ‘good records’ began. Now, I’m identifying these so-called ‘good records’ as the ones that used record stores now sell to both serious and casual collectors.”

My ability to seek out cool junk for my business had exposed me to vast amounts of vinyl. Hence, it only stood to reason that I would become more interested in genres other than the dance floor-focused tracks I had been looking for to keep things interesting at the Acid jazz nights and to rock an upbeat, funky vibe for my shoppers. My education toward finding and appreciating a variety of “good records” began. Now, I’m identifying these so-called “good records” as the ones that used record stores now sell to both serious and casual collectors. These records are popular and underground classics spanning a variety of genres. Most large record collections reflect some basic similarities at their core and then become augmented by a greater focus specific to each collector’s individual tastes or needs. So, one of the ways I began expanding my collection was by hanging out with the owners of the local indie record store, which was a few storefronts down from me. 

Our friendship was cemented when I revealed some of my favorite digging spots to them and teamed up on buying excursions. Before that, they had relied on people coming in to sell their vinyl. When I showed them some of my thrift and flea market routes, they were amazed at the quality and quantity of material available. I like to think that by showing them how to find lower-priced stock, I was able to help them stay alive a little longer as their rent soared along with our neighborhood’s transformation.

Les Baxter – Le Sacre Du Sauvage (Ritual Of The Savage), Eartha Kitt – “I Want To Be Evil,” Wild Bill Davis And His Orchestra – Dis Heah (This Here). “One of my all-time favorite album covers is the frantic ritual itself in all its stereophonic glory from a rare boxed 3–45 record set of the 1952 Capitol Records LP.”

Mikas in his cavern of records.

“Suddenly, with its media-generated propaganda campaign of ‘better sound,’ the CD culture had allowed me to amass such a treasure trove for probably much less than three hundred dollars.”

As my collection began to grow, a couple of things happened. But first, I’d like to emphasize an issue that amazed me. I accumulated over five hundred records in the few months I focused on building my DJ arsenal. That was a mammoth amount by my standards at the time because only a few short years prior, in the mid-80s, such a collection would have been way beyond my meager income level to afford. It would have reflected a four to five-thousand-dollar investment. 

Suddenly, with its media-generated propaganda campaign of “better sound,” the CD culture had allowed me to amass such a treasure trove for probably much less than three hundred dollars. It was common to find thrift stores and flea markets throughout Florida selling records for well under a buck apiece, often for as low as ten cents! ( I picked up a pristine copy of one of my all-time favorite records, Nina Simone’s debut album Little Girl Blue, on Bethlehem, for one such thin dime). I rarely spent more than two dollars on a record in those days, and to a degree, that philosophy still reflects itself in well over half of my yearly purchases.

Returning to my transition from casual record buyer to obsessive collector working DJ, I’ll draw attention to a couple of occurrences that broadened the scope of my collection and helped me formulate new set lists in my turntable work. The first one is something that listening to old-school hip-hop had informed me about: Having your style bitten.

In retrospect, it seems logical to have happened. Still, not too long after The Deep Lounge Experience began reintroducing old funk and soul jams, another DJ emerged from the woodwork and pitched a whole night utilizing the same general genre to a nearby rival venue. My partner Erik and I were a little taken aback by this at first, but rather than dwell on the fact that we slept on things a little too long in not branching out from our opening slot sooner, we decided to do something a little crazy-seeming. Sure, it became apparent that we needed to get our own night somewhere, but we knew the scene couldn’t support two nights aimed at the same niche market. So, we decided to blaze a new trail by taking a cue from our name and deciding to go broke to create a night dedicated to resurrecting lounge music.

So, what’s going on today? Now that your house is overwhelmed by tons of records, do you still look for records?

Yeah, of course. Scoring some wax is one of my favorite highs. Plus, I’m somewhat obsessive/compulsive about collecting stuff. I started with comic books as a kid, then went on to build a large library of books. Records fit in quite naturally after that. There’s always something you don’t have or didn’t realize you wanted. I’ve got a lot of room here, a New York luxury that would be a shame not to exploit.

Love, hate, obsession, passion, pride, joy, anything else… What would best describe the relation to your collection?

When I’m feeling self-important, it’s a responsibility for the future. Other times, I just feel kind of crazy but also very blessed.

What is an album that scared you in your childhood?

I never was that easily frightened, but I did get awfully sick of my mom playing her John Denver records. Does dread and loathing count as fright?

What album played when you thought you were about to get some?

I had put on Joao Gilberto’s “Amoroso” for this girl once, and halfway into the first song, I heard, “What’s up with the make-out music?” 

What is an album that played when you got some?

Well, when I lost my virginity, “Obsession” by Animotion was playing. A doomed relationship with the Gothic witch type was initiated by Billie Holiday’s “Lady In Satin.” But all in all, “Girl From Ipanema” by Getz/Gilberto has been a proven winner many times.

Your house looks like a perfect venue to revive the lounge scene. Any plans?

Well, I throw some great cocktail parties occasionally.

Johnny Richards – The Rites Of Diablo. “Lush exotica, though far jazzier than the “primitive” styled cover art would imply. The straightforward arrangements are not as edgy as the following Les Baxter work, but this is a fine example of cocktail era curiosity regarding afro-cuban culture.”

Byron Lee and the Dragonnaires – Disco-Reggae. “The venerable ska come reggae orchestra was still kicking out the serious, irie vibes well into the Disco-Reggae era. This is one of my favorite medleys of all time.”

Emy de Pradines – Voodoo. “Quite a lovely recording of authentic Haitian Voodoo chants. The hymn to the Goddess Erzulie is truly amazing and beautiful. I am always leery of playing the call to Papa Legba, though.”

The Addicts – The Addicts Sing. “A 1966 album of out-of-tune junkies croaking out ‘inspirational’ songs of faith. I am unsure if this one would sound any better or worse than my friends and I am singing about our ‘BlackCrack’ habit.”

Various – Electronic Music. “Folkways always put out the highest quality in recorded sound. True audio documentaries. This 1967 release showcases the groundbreaking work of the University of Toronto’s electronic music lab, very bizarre-sounding stuff coming from some really straight-looking dudes.”

Mikas getting low to find the perfect tune.

A firm stack of Leo Addeo And His Orchestra LPs.

Dick Hyman – The Man From O.R.G.A.N.. “His moody version of ‘Give It Up and Turn It Loose’ is a reissue comp standard these days, but this more obscure swinging sixties groover shows that the organ king of Command Records could throw out a pop-soul-jazz burner wrapped in spy movie mystique like so much vintage popcorn at a 50 cent matinee.”

A lone crate in an unlikely record-less section of Mikas’ house.

“Recently, these reproduction vintage toy metal robots started showing up in various novelty shops. They made a nice counterpoint to my Tiki mug collection. Retro-primitivism meets retro-futurism, which sums up my interior design ethic.”

Studying the Design Records label.

Digital Underground – Sex Packets. “I just plain L-O-V-E this record. It’s a hip-hop sci-fi concept album that’s all about getting some booty. Love to love ya, baby!”

Jerry Masucci Presents Various – Super Salsa Singers Volume I. “Bet you didn’t know Wonder Woman was really Celia Cruz!”

George Harrison – Electronic Sound. “It’s tempting to say that George Harrison was just very rich and very high in 1969. He bought one of the very early Moog synths and, along with Bernie Krause, put together a rather interesting ambient excursion. Later, the Beatles used the synth in their Abbey Road sessions.”

The London Studio Group – “Checkpoint,” Basil Kirchin and John Coleman – Mind on the Run. “A DeWolfe 10-inch from one of my most epic scores. Breathtaking and strange, this is psychedelic crime jazz cut out for short attention spans.”

Yodeling Slim Clark – “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” “This was an exciting thrift store purchase—a 10-inch record on the ”Pontiac LP” imprint of the 1950s budget Remington Records label. I was sold on the beautiful minimalist modern artwork. When I got home, I was blown away by the sublime western yodeling.”

Mikas’s unbelievable set-up features some of his favorite knick-knacks.

A Capitol Records LP spinning on one of his many turntables.

Mikas with a stack of coverless records.

Here are a few more facts about myself in closing:

My punk rock claim to fame: I pierced G.G. Allin’s nipple at my old vintage store in Ybor City.

My hip-hop claim to fame: Eve and Sean Paul filmed a video in my apartment here in Brooklyn. 

You can see some of my scenic sculptures, which I produced for the American Museum of Natural History.

Matt has been working as a scenic artist since leaving his vintage shop behind him in Ybor City. Spending time with Paramount Pictures and NBC Universal, Matt has made his mark while continuing his passion for vinyl and spinning.

Discogs

IMDb

Interview edited by Sam Cohen.

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Groove on,
Eilon Paz and the Dust & Grooves team