Matt Pryor is not a rock star. He’s very clear about that. “You don’t really understand what a rock star is, okay,” he deadpans. “I’m a working-class musician. I’m not selling out stadiums. I’m not wearing leather pants.” But what he is wearing these days is a sly grin and maybe a kickball jersey, which—depending on who’s writing the band bio—might come with a fake title. “I wasn’t actually the commissioner, I was on the board of directors, but when we were writing the bio, Commissioner sounded more important.”
Yes, we’ve reached that chapter of life. The Get Up Kids are back, older, wiser, and a little more inclined to fudge résumés for the sake of local sports credibility. But don’t let the suburban anecdotes fool you—there’s a new EP on the way and it sounds like they’ve time-traveled back to 1999, caught fire, and bottled it.
So, why now? After an eight-year break since their last album, what finally kicked them back into gear? “I just got to a point where I was doing so many other things… and I was like, why am I putting all this time into all these other things when I could put it into the band?” Pryor explains. It wasn’t some grand master plan. Just five guys realizing the one thing they couldn’t do solo was sound like the Get Up Kids. “This is something the five of us can’t do as individuals.”
Of course, there’s a catch. This isn’t a nostalgia tour through Something to Write Home About. “We weren’t trying to make our first record part two,” he insists. “It was just, let’s play rock songs.” Pryor’s been workshopping a way to describe the sound—he’s settled, for now, on “modern vintage.” It’s the kind of thing you say when you know someone’s going to ask, “Does it sound like the old stuff?” and you’re not quite ready to admit that, yeah, it kinda does.
And about that fire—the elusive spark of youth that most aging punks spend years chasing and rarely catch? It’s there. “I don’t know if I can ever describe myself having a fire of youth,” Pryor says, laughing, “but I’m happy to take the compliment.”
The first single, “Maybe,” came out of the archives—a chorus that started life as an acoustic campfire ditty got the Superchunk treatment in the studio and morphed into what Pryor describes as “a monster.” Even better? It wasn’t overthought. “We were done with it and kinda like, huh… that’s pretty good.”
If “Maybe” is the anthem, “I’m Sorry” is the introspective heart, the kind of song that straddles life on tour and life at home with three kids and a garage full of sarcasm. “I don’t know if that’s about Jim’s kids or his wife, I have no idea,” he shrugs. “You could write a song about missing your kids and someone could interpret it as missing your significant other.” It’s emo, but not that emo. Think more grown-up guilt than teenage angst.
Speaking of kids, what do Pryor’s think about dad being in a band? “All they do is mess with me about it,” he says. His daughter plays in her own indie band and rehearses at home. “They’re always like, ‘Hey Mr. Pryor,’ and I’m like, please don’t call me that. Just call me Matt. It’s fine.”
But don’t think for a second that the Get Up Kids are just coasting on legacy. “We’ve been accused of doing weird things for the sake of being weird,” Pryor admits. “I’m okay with that.” But this time, there’s something different. “I get more excited about this than I have been about stuff in a while.”
The EP is four songs. “Fantastic Four,” as Pryor calls it. And yes, it’s just the beginning. There’s an album in the works, but don’t expect it to be a 20-minute punk sprint. “We wouldn’t be opposed to some mid-tempo or ballads. You’d get tired of all fast songs after a while.”
So, what’s next? “Listen to it… or don’t, I don’t care,” Pryor shrugs. “But come see us live. You think the EP’s good? Coming to a show is even better.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Maybe" below!
