jennie warren

Upsilon Acrux are an intensely instrumental band who released their Galapagos Momentum album this summer. They meet at Downtown Rehearsal. Bassist Marty Sataman stayed pretty quiet for this interview.

What was the best part about opening for Anal Cunt?
Paul Lai (guitar): Probably the audience. A lot of people who perhaps hadn’t bathed that week. A dirty bunch of kids we hadn’t seen at shows. But very open-minded—I think of all the big bands we’ve opened for, most people are like, ‘The first time we saw you was Anal Cunt.’
So it was your big break.
PL: After that it was limos, yachts and handjobs.
What makes you a maximist band?
PL: I said that when I was much younger. Like ten years ago. At that time, a lot of bands were all about minimalism—or they weren’t really, but they liked the phrase. We thought the opposite—we wanted to use everything we had, to be really busy while we were playing. I think we enjoy going at it. Not that I don’t enjoy minimal music—Tony Conrad really did change my life. He’s amazing when he plays—except he has this weird sheet, and he stands behind it with a light to project his shadow. I’m sure in a much smaller place with a lot more drugs, it’s probably fucking awesome. The best part of the show was Danny DeVito and his whole family were in front of me. He gave Tony Conrad a standing ovation—Danny and Rhea Perlman and their son—and I wanted to pick them up and hug them. Gently. They loved it and the kid loved it.
How did Tony Conrad change your life?
PL: For me, the way he used sound. Something as classically thought of as a viola or violin—he used in such an abrasive way. Drone-y without being feminine in any way. Really like… masculine. Way heavier than like Sunn0))) or Boris and all that stuff is supposed to be. When I’d play it on my stereo, it had this sound of doom—of death.
What musician destroyed your capability to be satisfied with three-chord pop?
PL: King Crimson for me.
David Moeggenberg (guitar): Coltrane’s Giant Steps. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and once I figured it out—it made me start to think. He was somebody just full-throttling the envelope at all times. And then he went and did modal stuff for the next three years.
PC: The first time I heard ‘Hot For Teacher.’ I laughed through the whole song. I never really listened to pop music. I was from a more religious family. I heard it at a friend’s house. The drums like thunder—it was hilarious.
How much of Upsilon is Paul personally? What changes with new people?
PL: I’d like to think the basic philosophy—which is doing music with people in a band I really enjoy, and everything being a big fucking inside joke. And trying not to be gratuitous. Like as you get better at your instrument, it’s easy to fall into a bunch of soloing—shit I don’t wanna listen to and I hope nobody else wants to listen to. Keep it interesting, and if you’re not, stop fucking doing it.
DM: Everybody comes from such different backgrounds that it’s pretty easy to work off something someone else is doing. Paul and I both play guitar, but he’s from a completely different school of thought. Nobody gets into the band without knowing what they’re getting into. It had such strong personality from the beginning. Everybody comes in thinking, ‘I’ll make music that’s going to push me.’ Everybody who plays something different than I’ve ever heard—I gotta think, ‘How do I react? How do I make something interesting work with that?’ There’s plenty of opportunity to step on stuff, yet somehow we never do that. It’s easy to be inspired—everybody’s willing to go right to the edge.
Is this a stressful band to be in?
DM: I don’t get bored as easily, but from a certain point of view—it’s probably pretty stressful on my hands. And there’s lots of information for the audience to process. But I’ve been in bands that were more stressful—we put so much out there, but everybody works together really well. I’d almost say the most stressful band was the easiest band.
PL: Everybody has to get along, has to have chops, have to be able to count but not mouth it—to eventually just kind of feel the stuff. If you’re a fan of complex music, the changes might come a little quicker.
What’s the first song you ever completely mastered?
DM: I can fake my way through almost anything.
PL: A couple Sonic Youth songs off Goo.
Chris Meszler (drums): I can get pretty close on ‘Black Dog.’
PL: I probably know 80% of the Cure catalog. My first band was a Cure rip-off—we did more Cure covers than originals. We tried to look like them, tried to sound like them—played more songs of theirs than ours at practice. Pathetic! I wish someone would have shot us. But we could be the Bravery right now if we’d stuck it out. Who knew there’d be big money? People would be like, ‘Wow, that’s insanely original!’
What bands are most ripe now for rip-off?
PL: I wanna say something between Ride and Chapterhouse. Retro, kind of shoegaze, big drums, catchy and spacy.
DM: I’m thinking more a Warrant/Poison combo. Maybe Skid Row if we can get Sebastian out of retirement. Give him a little stomach surgery and get that guy on stage.
PC: I was impressed with the Squirrel Nut Zippers when they came in.
Is this the kind of diversity people expect from you?
PC: They did a Christmas album.
What would the first song on your Christmas album be called?
PL: What if we redid the whole John Fahey Christmas collection? Did it note for note with drums? But he ended up drunk and dying by himself so maybe that’s not the best idea. I heard at the end you could get guitar lessons from him for like $20. I’d give him $20 just to hang out.
Who else is worth $20 to hang out with?
PC: Robert Downey, Jr. When I moved here, I thought he was the king. He got in trouble every week—he escaped from rehab!—and even the judges were like, ‘Oh, Robbie…’ Everything he did was OK! The newscasters were rooting for him.
How do you teach new members old songs?
PL: From what can I tell, I say, ‘It’d be cool if we did this song.’ And they go home and learn it and bring new shit to it. They make little adjustments—everybody has a personal way of playing things, and I love the way they play, so I don’t bitch too much.
PC: That’s kind of stressful. When I’m home, I’m like, ‘Fuck! I only have eight hours to come up with something for this thirty seconds!’
What kind of lasting life lessons does Upsilon Acrux give to its members?
PC: I’ve become late to work.
You’d think you’d start at the exact same time as everyone else.
PC: I drink more and I’m late to work. Are these life lessons?
What would be the most out-of-character cover Upsilon Acrux could do?
PL: Peter, Bjorn and John. We’re actually covering it. I’ll give you up to nine seconds of that song next time we play. That’s a guarantee.
Which part of your BBC review did you like best? Where they said the album was like a horror movie, or where they said it was an unpleasant listening experience?
PL: The truth never lies, I guess.
What did you think of their idea that the music you make is necessary but unpleasant? You’re like vitamins.
PL: Well, if that review went out to more people, then we’re down. But I don’t think we’re going out there to make thetruth.net ads in music. People just don’t want to hear creative music. They want things they can put their personality on—songs to reflect who they are constantly, to reflect their experiences. It’s entertainment like everything else—like memory, like a yearbook. ‘I was at the prom when I heard that song!’ ‘I was at the mall!’ ‘My friend has a ringtone that reminds me of a really rad party!’ That shit will never happen to us! You’d have to have a weird-ass friend or be hanging out at a weird record store—which would tell you that you have no life—to accidentally hear one of our songs and have it put into your memory like that.
What’s that say about your fans?
PL: They’re fucking weird. They make me uncomfortable. No, just kidding.
But they’re also putting in a lot of effort to track you guys down and stick with you.
DM: It’s cool to see the same people up front salivating and dying—and not to toot our own horns, but they love that we’re up there doing it, and I bet in their bands, they’re doing exactly the same shit. They’re working their asses off doing what we’re doing. I see familiar faces, and I don’t know their names, but they’re headbanging and going nuts and having a great time, and that’s awesome.
PL: We’re hoping to be the Velvet Underground of brutal prog. For every fifty CDs we sell, fifty other people will start a band.
That will take forever because it’s really hard to figure out your songs.
PL: It’s good to have something to shoot for. When I grew up, Eddie Van Halen was what I thought a guitarist was. Nowadays—you think like John Mayer? Or I don’t know who the fuck.
DM: Avenged Sevenfold?
PL: That guy is rad—they’re kind of like the OC version of Guns ‘n’ Roses. Awesome and crappy and everything all at once.
Do you still think Eddie Van Halen is what a guitarist should be?
PL: I don’t think that all the time—Nels is probably my boy—but I can’t ever stop loving Eddie Van Halen, even though he’s a horrible human being. The thing I admire is what people admire about Hendrix—the guitar looks like a toy in his hand. He totally owns it and looks totally happy doing it. Not in a cheeseball way, though everything he does is cheeseball—but it’s way better than watching the guy from Fall Out Boy. They’re horrible.
Are you saying Fall Out Boy is horrible?
PL: Yeah, I’ll go on record.

UPSILON ACRUX PLAY WED., SEPT. 26, WITH TIME OF ORCHIDS, NATIONAL SUNDAY LAW AND MONGOLOID AT THE SCENE BAR, 806 E. COLORADO BLVD., GLENDALE. 9 PM / $5 / 21+. WWW.THESCENEBAR.COM. AND THUR., SEPT. 27, WITH LITTLEST VIKING, TIME OF ORCHIDS, HOUR OF THE SHIPWRECK AND THE WALKACHINGS AT THE SMELL, 247 S. MAIN ST., LOS ANGELES. 9 PM / $5 / ALL AGES. WWW.THESMELL.ORG.