Stepping into Process, an underground rave club in the Watershed PDX building on SE Milwaukie Avenue, is a portal into a utopian vision of the future. The bar, tucked behind the ticket stand, faces cubic wooden benches and tables, custom-built for the space and its needs. Illuminated shapes cut out of the walls act as windows to nowhere—a view of soft, changing color schemes.
“Is this your first time here?” asks the ticket checker of each attendee as they walk in. First timers are then connected with a member of the care team to go over community guidelines: Respect is mandatory, consent is key, and “the dance floor is for dancing.”
On busy nights, the space is filled within an hour of doors opening. Andy Warren and Peter Giese, both owners and general managers of Process, have thrown events in this space for over a decade, though this iteration of the building began as a passion project a few years ago.
The dance floor itself is dark, foggy, and energetic, and you won’t find any pictures of it outside of Process’ website. The club asks guests to limit all phone use to the bar, enforcing a strict no photo/video policy on the dance floor to respect each dancer’s privacy. The guidelines also discourage loud conversations on the floor, keeping the space sacred for those who need it.
The name Process pays homage to the emotional processing people do through dance and movement. “Right now there’s a lot in our world that is really challenging to face—[dancing’s] not about forgetting, it’s about working through,” Giese says. “We’re human, we’re not meant to suffer, we’re meant to be together and find peace in existing. Dance music is a really good way for us to process our existence, alone and together.”
Emphasis on intentionality, harm reduction, high quality sound—and the combination of all three—is what sets Process apart from other clubs in the Pacific Northwest.
The practice—spearheaded by Process’ Chelsea Riley—of running through community guidelines with each newcomer is inspired by the NYC club Nowadays. Being upfront and public about Process’ values becomes a “community-building force” within the club, Warren explains. It works as a way to center people and set an intention, instilling a sense of what the club is all about.
Members of the care team are also present throughout the club—denotable by illuminated badges—working alongside the security team. The care team is sober, carries Narcan, knows CPR, and is safe to talk to about any concerns. “Such an important part of dance music is making sure people feel safe so they can let loose and process,” Giese says.
Process aims to pay homage to the origins of dance music, maintaining “a thread of connection through the history of this culture,” Warren says. Club spaces throughout dance music history have been “radically inclusive,” he explains, “created by, and intended for marginalized folks in our communities.”
For local DJ C. Powers, her relationship with the club had a rocky start. In May of 2024, the online electronic music publication Magnetic Magazine published an interview with the creators of Canyon Vibration—an EDM festival in Oregon’s high desert—focusing on community building and “the effects of local networking in securing a festival booking.” Spencer Russell, one of the festival’s organizers featured in the interview, is a close friend and collaborator of Process.
Powers disagreed with the interview’s sanitized idea of community and commented publicly that the organizers should “give up [Canyon Vibration’s DJ] slots to some people who truly are embedded in the same community that gave you the music you take for granted,” followed with a list of local DJs. She was frustrated over the prioritization of what she calls “business techno,” or larger touring acts with high fees and high follower counts, while the local acts get “crumbs.” The article itself has since been edited.
“This is just a well-known topic in dance music, that [Instagram] likes are overshadowing talent in ways that are really not cool,” Powers explained. “We’re watching bad DJs while the good ones are stuck in their room because they’re working. They don’t have the resources to focus on networking and Instagram, and that shouldn’t be a requirement.”
In the aftermath, due to the Canyon Vibration organizer’s proximity to and involvement with the owners of Process, Powers says that, in the time after, the club’s promoters refused to work with her. She says she was not the only person criticizing the responses given in the article, but felt specifically singled out, especially as a trans woman. After time passed and word spread of the blacklist, Giese reached out and “broke the ban,” as Powers says.
“Peter [Giese] has actually gone beyond most cis white men and listened, finding ways to be accountable and never attempted to shut me down,” Powers says. “Despite the conflict, the team at Process and myself have found new grounds and new understandings.”
Related: Read about C. Powers’ album Unlawful Assembly on the Mercury’s Top 10 Portland Albums of 2025 list.
Powers says that she feels, ultimately, it led to positive change. She shouted out the queer-centric events that Process hosts, like one-half NelSon’s Hickey Machine and ALoSo’s Fever Dream. Powers says she has since performed at the club and is working on future events with Process.
While Process has its own group of regular attendees, Warren tries to expand the club’s reach by working with different promoters to book artists both locally and globally. By becoming a “melting pot” of people from different corners of rave and club scenes, as Warren puts it, the club has become a place for dancers and artists to meet and create together.
“It’s remembering what [rave culture] is and what it’s about,” Warren explains, “because it has been really commercialized and co-opted and diluted.”
The space itself was built through community efforts.
While touring the room, Giese and Warren pointed out each contributor. Spencer Russell is the architect behind the renovation; Nick Ferrigno did the carpentry; Tyler Morrison designed the DJ booth, bar, and metal shelving along the walls; and Robin Ewing designed the lighting. In the center of the club hangs “Cheryl,” a giant dynamic sphere covered in LED lights programmed to the music and constructed by Will Shown.
“Everyone who had a hand in the build out is a friend in the community who has connections to the music scene that we’re a part of,” Warren says. “It was a lot of people putting love into it knowing that it was going to be what it is, a fun thing for everyone and an important aspect of the culture of dance music.”
The dance floor is outfitted with a top-notch, four-point Danley Sound Labs sound system and, in part due to the size of the room, the sound quality is “unmatched” in the city, in Giese’s experience. The positioning of the speakers allows for 360 degree sound no matter where a dancer’s body is pointed, and the levels are meticulously controlled so the music is felt internally—not just through your ears. A few elevated benches at the back of the floor are located behind the speaker line, for those wanting a break from throwing shapes. Ear plugs are also available, free of charge, at the door.
“When sound is loud and it’s not good—like it’s low quality or it’s too impactful on your body—it takes you out of the experience,” Giese says. Even people who aren’t audiophiles and can’t articulate the difference can feel it; good sound “allows [people] to be comfortable in the space.”
Process, in the best way possible, feels DIY as well. An HVAC unit you’d expect to see in an apartment points towards dancers on the floor. The exterior of the building itself resembles a warehouse rather than a venue.
The creation of Process was unique as well, since permitting for the club was only possible due to the Watershed building’s history as a vocational school. The land itself was already zoned in a way that allows for large gatherings of people, an issue that other DIY venues often run into. The building was also already equipped with the necessary sprinkler systems and exit routes. The Watershed building houses approximately 30 full-time businesses and artist spaces alongside the club.
“It’s music first, art first, figure out money later,” Giese jokes while walking through the space.
For Giese and Warren, the true value of Process lies in supporting budding local talent and witnessing connection, healing, and joy.
“I try to think of those things as our actual profit margins, and we’re killing it. We’re super successful,” Warren smiles.
Upcoming Process events include Process’ Two Year Anniversary weekend April 3-5, one-half NelSon’s queer Hickey Machine party April 11, and Trainwreck (a fundraiser for Don’t Evict PDX) ft. C. Powers on April 17. Process’ complete event listings can be found on their website, Instagram, and Resident Advisor.
