Interview: Upright Man ride or die in beautiful ecstasy

The road to self-discovery is a long and exhaustive one, often sullied with loathing, sloth, pity and sabotage ⎯⎯ at least that’s the testament musician Max Yassky gives, his no-fucks attitude rubs poetic underneath. “The pursuit of self-discovery can colour the ‘it all’ you’re trying to make sense of. If you put self-discovery aside then you can pursue answers for others, not just yourself,” he says, framing Upright Man‘s debut record, 2017’s jarringly-expansive self-titled disc, as one which depicts the transformative journey most 20-somethings tread.

“When I consider how much there is to know, and how badly we are hurting because of our self-obfuscation, I lose my care for self-discovery,” he tells B-Sides & Badlands over a recent email. Yassky, who plays drums and percussion, is one-third of the New York-based alt-rock outfit, rounded out by Aidan Dolan (guitar, vocals) and Nick Katz (bass, vocals), a stylistically-dynamic troupe of players who all met during their NYU studies.

If he hadn’t said “yes” to a higher education, Yassky would have ended up assistant to a private investigator near the beaches of Boca Raton, Fla. “I was going to carry a licensed firearm, train with Floridian gym rats and track bugged vehicles,” he fanaticizes, coloring a storyline in some alternate universe. It’s a destiny he’ll never fulfill ⎯⎯ until the next lifetime. But in the present, his song craft worms its way through various rock eras, from the detachment of ’60s psychedelia (“Elysia,” “Say What You Mean”) to the garage-band of the ’90s (“Animals”) to folk-minded arrangements (“Three Easy Pieces,” “Alaska”). Dolan ⎯⎯ who wields the “fingerpicking-hybrid” style, a technique learned in university ⎯⎯ considers how his career could have gone had they never met, “I don’t know if it would gone that differently, overall, but I wonder if my taste would be really different. Maybe I would have stuck with the classical guitar kick I was on when I graduated high school.”

The album, produced by Marc Copely (Roseanne Cash, B.B. King) and Zev Katz (Jeff Beck, Hall & Oates), is now five months in the rearview mirror, and Yassky acknowledges the meaningful shift of its themes. “It feels different,” he says. “Having an album out isn’t exciting; it’s an accomplishment. What’s exciting is playing shows.” Dolan agrees, adding, “The fun part is making the music, having it out is more of a stepping stone. What’s exciting is when people interact with what we’ve created and continuing to write and play live shows.”

Even though, at it’s core, many of the motifs of sorrow, uncertainty and alarming rapture really haven’t advanced too drastically, the music itself has. Yassky notes a new-found appreciation for some of the underlining structures. “I notice parts or ideas for harmonies I missed before. My favorite change from playing the songs more is the growth of the rhythm section romance on stage,” he says.

Katz echoes that sentiment. “The way we play the songs has definitely evolved, so their abstract meaning has changed in some way, but I don’t really think about it too much; if it feels good, play it.”

Below, the trio discuss stand out cuts, including the entrancing “Ecstasy,” the echo chamber of the music industry and unplugging from life.

“Ecstasy” possesses a rather psychedelic feel. When did you land on that vibe? Was it immediate? And what did you have in mind when you wrote and then recorded it?

Yassky: I showed Aidan the chorus idea on his Fender Coronado II going through one of his old Electro Harmonix Small Clones set to Scooby Doo levels of spook. It was there when the first notes got played. I’m glad we kept the weirdness as part of the song.

Dolan: “Ecstasy” was one of those songs that was pretty effortless to write. There was no moments of bewilderment at what the song wanted to be. It started with the whacky chorus-chorus-guitar and the subject of being completely useless to the point that getting the mail seems like a monumental task.

“Alaska” conversely has a more somber, intimate tone. As one of the first songs you wrote together, how did it set the pace for you as a collective?

Dolan: “Alaska” was actually a tune that I wrote with Nick, and the process was unique for us. I had a mellow chord progression I was playing, and it by chance happened to rhythmically fit with some lyrics Nick had written without a melody or chords. The unusual form of the tune has definitely been a good example for us of how escaping verse-chorus-bridge mentalities can be really rewarding.

Katz: Additionally, it was one that really opened a different kind of time feel for us. It’s super laid back, almost to the point of falling apart. Since then, we’ve kind of taken than super laid back, behind the beat thing and applied it to more of our tunes for the live show.

The musical scope of the record is refreshingly vast. How do you plan to build upon that with your next release?

Yassky: We’re going to continue to write music and try not to suck.

Dolan: Considering our varying influences as individuals and the scope of our total influences, we certainly don’t struggle to write songs with a large musical scope. If anything, for us, its about narrowing our scope into what we feels like is unique to our identity.

On “Agorognostic,” you repeat “can we learn to love enough” over and over and over again. Is that a direct response to the state of the world right now? What is your personal investment in that lyric?

Yassky: It’s kind of a borrowed thought from people more entrenched than us in the battle against the bullshit apathy of our species. It’s obviously an oversimplification of what a “fix” might look like, but it’s easy to grasp onto. For me, it’s a call for help from those with more answers and ideas than complaints and compliance.

Dolan: I don’t think I would categorize as meaning just that, but that’s a good interpretation. It could be more a general philosophical question, but either way, it feels important enough to say it a whole bunch a times.

In talking about your song “Checked Out,” you stated there’s “a certain comfort in disengaging from the world.” Are you meaning in terms of ignoring the news, signing off social media? Is that a constant or more of a “I need a break” kind of thing?

Katz: I always felt like we were kind of railing against falling into the disconnected comfort trap. Discomfort creates action. I’d hazard we’re generally a bit too comfortable.

In this echo chamber that is the music industry these days, unplugging must be pretty important for you guys, mentally.

Yassky: I’m mostly unplugged, unglued, unhinged and unwound. If there’s a thing to be, I’m likely busy being the un-version of that. But if I can invent a way to record my dreams onto DVD, I’ll be plugged into that 24/7.

Dolan: We definitely do mean it in terms of that. Plugging into the modern world of media has its pluses, but there’s definitely a neurotic tendency to it.

Katz: I barely listen to anything that came out after the invention of the internet.

Photo Credit: Sloane Morrison

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