Upper90: High Emotion, Higher Frequency

There’s something unmistakable about an Upper90 set. It doesn’t just bang; it breathes. One minute you’re airborne on a sugar-rush piano riff, the next you’re sucked into a memory you didn’t know was still living inside you. His tracks don’t shout. They swell. His energy isn’t loud; it’s layered. And behind that subtle drama lies a very real person trying to survive in the world of dance music.

“I’m an emotional person,” he tells me. “I think my music reflects that.”

It does. From the first bars of his early singles to the more complex palette of his recent work, you can hear the transformation, not as a stylistic shift, but as a deepening.

“As life has become more complicated and challenging,” he says, “I’ve made a conscious decision to develop my production skills to give the music more depth.”

The piano has become his co-conspirator, the thread that connects who he is to what we hear. The result is a sound that holds space for joy and ache in equal measure.

The same applies to his DJ sets, which feel less like product and more like poetry in motion.

“Building the narrative during a set is intentional,” he says.

Track selection matters, but so does tension and release, those quiet dips before the flood of energy.

“I’ve always loved writing, whether it be music, poetry, or short stories,” he admits.

That literary instinct shows up on the dancefloor; Upper90 doesn’t just mix, he scripts.

But as any artist who suddenly finds themselves in the spotlight will tell you, growth comes with growing pains.

“At the beginning of this journey, the speed of the scene was something I struggled to manage, but I’ve found ways to stay grounded.”

That includes therapy, quiet time, and a strong bond with his manager, Charles:

“A solid support through the rollercoaster of the last few years.”

And still, the nostalgia never entirely fades. It lingers like incense in his chord progressions, in the tender vocal chops, in the melancholic bliss that haunts the tail end of a peak-time drop.

“I agree that my music is often compared to the classic ‘90s piano house sound, but this has never been intentional,”

Instead, it’s instinct.

“I shy away from listening to genres similar to mine. I want my music to feel original.”

He name-drops Hendrix, London Grammar, Mazzy Star; artists known for feeling more than fitting in.

It makes sense, then, that his roots lie in production.

“I’ve always seen myself more as a producer who DJs. I grew up playing the drums, then transitioned to playing the guitar. Making music has always been a fundamental part of my life.”

It was that foundational musicianship that led him to discover electronic music and eventually to Berlin.

Leaving Australia wasn’t easy.

“The emotional burden was tough. I left behind friends and family.”

And Berlin, for all its beauty, came with its learning curve: a new language and a new nightlife logic.

“I sometimes felt quite isolated.”

For some artists, a record label is a business move. For others, it’s a vessel for vision. In the case of Upper90, it’s personal, rooted in the euphoric chaos of dance floors where trance, hard house, and raw emotion collide.

Clubbing in the trance and hard house scene has drawn me to more fast-paced, melodic-driven music.”

That blend, emotional depth meets BPM pressure, is the actual reason behind his label, Dance Power. What started as a personal outlet is quickly evolving into something bigger.

“Dance Power represents my livelihood, the coming together of friends, a rush of serotonin, an obsessive passion… a sense of belonging.”

It’s more than tracks; it’s a frequency. The label is now expanding into VAs, showcases, and even a clothing line.

“I’m also eager to support local emerging artists and give them a platform. Starting with VAs feels right, but I’m open to more in-depth EP projects in the future.”

He wants the Dance Power events to bring back the lost art of intimacy.

“Some events feel like they’re missing a sense of community. My main focus is to create an event series where the musical direction is thoughtful and well curated, with a dancefloor that’s inclusive and safe.”

There’s a moment in the conversation where everything clicks into place.

“I think the moment I really knew something special might happen was when I got an encouraging message from DJ HEARTSTRING while I was still in Melbourne,” he tells me.

“At the time, I was so unknown and struggling with confidence. That gesture lifted my spirits and made me believe this dream was possible.”

Two years later, that dream has turned into records, remixes, and real momentum.

So what does success look like now? For Upper90, it’s not just about charts or followers. It’s about feeling, again.

“Success to me is simply based on whether I’m enjoying the process. My main goal is to appreciate the journey and work hard to give my best in every aspect of my career.”

And just like his sets, this journey is far from random. It’s intentional, intuitive, and deeply human. Upper90 may be named after a top-corner goal. But his magic lives in the build-up, the tension, the long shot you didn’t expect to hit… until it does.