The Get Up Kids Are Alright

The Get Up Kids' front man, Matt Pryor, admits this year's reunion wasn't supposed to happen. When infighting drove the band to split up in 2005, it was—as far as Pryor was concerned—the end.

“I had no intention of ever going back to those guys,” Pryor says. “I was completely done. It wasn't some hiatus.”

Until it was.

This month marks the group's return, complete with a new full-length album, a nationwide tour and a fresh start that has been six years in the making. It's a far cry from the initial strains of the split, which—true to form—came right after a musical climb.

The Kansas City five-piece—vocalist/guitarist Pryor, bassist Rob Pope, guitarist Jim Suptic, keyboardist James Dewees and drummer Ryan Pope—first hit the scene in 1995. They were key in shaping the early inklings of the hastily defined emo genre: heart-on-sleeve lyrics, surging guitars and earnest, poppy half-hooks.

Early on, the band upped the emo ante when they signed to Vagrant Records, setting the stage for Saves the Day, Alkaline Trio and Dashboard Confessional to soon do the same. The resulting success propelled the little-known record label into a solid player and mainstreamed the sounds that came out of it. Tours with Green Day and Weezer, plus the seminal album Something to Write Home About, cemented the Kids' standing alongside the power players of the day. But a few uneven records later—coupled with burnout—and the group called it quits.

But it was a welcome break, admits Pryor, that wrapped up a decade of being attached at the hip, with all the attendant personal and professional clashes. Post-split, band members dove into side projects: Reggie and the Full Effect, Spoon, the New Amsterdams. But then, the 10-year anniversary of Something to Write Home About rolled around, and the guys started to cautiously kick around ideas.

Discussions about a rerelease turned into rehearsals, which gave way to festival dates—and, ultimately, says Pryor, “the realization that we could stand one another again.”

Not only that, but they were also finally enjoying themselves in the process. Between performances, the band had two weeks of downtime, and it was quickly decided their mission would be to write an album.

“We were getting along so well, and we decided to just do it,” says Pryor. “No pressure on the outcome—we joked that if the album were terrible, we'd release it under a fake name.”

The result of the two-week session was nine songs—not exactly an album, but enough to spark the band's creative craving to try things again. Those songs would find their way onto this month's full-length release, There Are Rules. (Is the album title a reference to The Big Lebowski? “Not initially,” says Pryor, laughing. “But that's what I'm going to say from now on.”)

The disc marks a more textured, cohesive sound—heavier on the synths, as evident in first single “Automatic”—and they've realized that less is more.

“Now, we're waiting to bring the guitars in, easing up on the fast-and-loud, layering in the rhythm section,” Pryor says. “We've learned restraint.”

They've also learned that shifting back into the music scene isn't without its share of adjustment. During the six-year stretch the Kids were absent, the emo wave morphed into a barrage of eyeliner and side-swept bangs. Many of the newcomers hailed the Kids as an inspiration from back in the day, rather than a current colleague.

Pryor recalls taking the stage at Bamboozle in 2009, faced with an audience whose familiarity with the Kids stemmed from the accolades newer bands had piled onto them.

“I felt old,” says Pryor, who is married with kids. “[The audience] knew Fall Out Boy and Blink 182 liked us—and that was about it. On one hand, we were grateful for the opportunity to play. At the same time, it was awkward.” (Guitarist Suptic summed up in an interview shortly after Bamboozle: “It was just a sea of neon shirts to us. If this is the world we helped create, then I apologize.”)

But as much as the band aim to disassociate themselves from the scene, they did help create it. Pryor accepts that and emphasizes this tour is equally about embracing the staple songs and styles that got the Kids to where they are now: all grown up.

“We're best when we're happy,” says Pryor. “And right now, we're happier than we've ever been.”

 

This article appeared in print as “These Kids Today: For the Get Up Kids, being emo means never being afraid to say you’re sorry.”

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