Noah Hughey
Jul 10, 2025
Matt Mahaffey is Just Being HimsElf
Matt Mahaffey doesn't mind if you’ve never heard of him or his band, Self. But if you have, the release of their first single in a decade might be a sign that he’s not quite ready to let go of the band that jumpstarted his career. The release of the single last December, 'Love You Less,' coupled with a resurgence of the band on platforms like Spotify has led to a burgeoning community of new fans online in 2025, 30 years after the release of their first album, Subliminal Plastic Motives.
For Mahaffey, music has always come naturally. “When I was a kid, once I got drumsticks, I would go beat on, you know, fresh barbwire to the fields,” he said from his home studio in Nashville, Tennessee. “You know, like, cause they would string it and it would have a tone to it, like, bzz. And each level of it was a different tone.” Born in Kingsport, the musical ballast he had access to was worlds apart from the sound he would end up producing in his early career. “My parents had disco and easy listening and Little River Band and Eagles and stuff like that,” he said. “I was just like, the 70s stuff was so boring to me, that I had access to in East Tennessee.”
However, when an opportunity to join a local band sprouted up, he could not refuse. “And they're just like, we need a drummer. And I'm like, oh my God, I'm going to audition for a band,” he said. “Next thing I know, I'm like 13 and playing at Dollywood with them every summer, you know. And as soon as I could drive (...) I would drive up to Bristol, Tennessee (...) and just,” he began mimicking his rhythmic ticking of the drum, “all night long for hours and get paid 50 bucks or whatever.”
Looking back at it, Mahaffey expresses gratitude for his origins in the south. When he first lived in Nashville and Murfreesboro during college, its reputation stood out as a cradle for country music. But the late eighties and early nineties were a time for change not only musically, but technologically. For Mahaffey, this meant the harmonies of traditional bluegrass came together with an influx of west coast hip hop to form a single artistic vision that remained in the back of his mind throughout his early career.
“That's one thing that is my superpower, I always hear harmonies all the time and rhythm,” he said. “I started playing in rock bands in college and was a good drummer. And so in Murfreesboro, where I went to school at MTSU, there just wasn't a lot of drummers. It's a music school (...) And so, next thing I know, [I] was just playing in a different band several times a week. It's like punk rock on Monday, piano pop on Wednesday, reggae on Friday. And that was cool because that exposed me to a lot of different styles and meeting a lot of different people that just had different viewpoints on how to make music.”
The project that was Self wouldn’t have been totally possible without his older brother, Mike Mahaffey. “He was my idol, you know, and he was so good at the guitar and he practiced so hard when we were kids. Then, when he was 18, he was just like, ‘I can legally go join a touring band,’” Mahaffey recalled his brother’s success swelling with pride. “He just moved up this rung really quickly of these agencies, the next thing I knew he was in Florida with a band called Blackfish signed to Epic Records (...) we were, just, both just in disbelief. And they made a record with Sean Slade and Paul Kolderie, who produced Radiohead's first album.”
But for Mike, the ladder stopped in Florida with Epic Records, prompting a call home that would eventually give the world Self. “I was making beats in my dorm room and my brother called me from an Island, And he was like, ‘Hey, they're not putting out our second record. Can I come write with you?’ And I was like, ‘Come on,’” said Mahaffey. “And I had written ‘So Low’ and ‘Marathon Shirt’ for the first album. But it was just beats on a four track and he came in and just put his guitars on them and we got a record deal. Poof. And I was like, ‘Well, I guess we're a band, bro.’”
Those first songs the brothers produced would go on to become the band’s first album, Subliminal Plastic Motives, which was released in October 1995. Setting a sort of unspoken precedent for their discography, the album seems to capture the essence of the era it was produced in its unique musical concoction. There is a distinct grunge that hits immediately, reminiscent of the sounds of bands like Nirvana which had taken the rock scene by storm during the mid nineties. And yet, less than a minute into the album’s first song 'Borateen,' Mahaffey’s experimentation with hip hop and the unconventional electric sounds he’d been listening to in college are unmistakable.
“Subliminal Plastic Motives has a special place in my heart because it was done to analog tape,” Mahaffey said. “You couldn't Google how to get a certain sound or make something work. You just had to figure it out (...) We beat on pots and pans, we everything and it's all very live. And this is before like you had a bajillion loops at your fingertips. It's more personal because it's farm to table. It's handcrafted, there's no presets back there.”
Self was signed to Spongebath records that same year, and added Chris James as their keyboardist, Jason Rawlings on drums, and bassist Tim Noble (who’d be replaced by Mac Burrus after a 1997 tour). It seemed at the time that Mike had brought his accelerationist star power to the band. “Out of the gate, Lou Maglia [President, Zoo Entertainment] (…) sunk a million dollars into promoting the band to the industry,” Mahaffey said. “So we were in all the magazines, all the industry magazines, and we made videos, and they were on MTV and - they didn't really play them a lot, but they were on there - so people would recognize you, those types of things.”
With the influx of money from major labels, the band, and Mahaffey in particular, now had the resources to experiment with the harmonic project that had been sitting in his mind since college. “Most of my successes with Self are more just artistic internal pats on the back,” he said, patting his own back and smiling. “Being able to have a huge budget and do whatever I want to in the recording studio, be like, ‘I want strings on this.’ And then next thing I know, there's a room full of string players and like, we're doing it,” he motioned around himself, as if he had been taken back to that studio, surrounded by a string section, an erratic passion inflamed in his eyes as he recalled his gluttonous request fulfilled by the studio. “It was just blatant, you know, waste, wasting money. But at the same time, like, you're making records. I was making records like my heroes made records. And that felt very good.”
This might have been where the story ends. I could tell you that Self was endlessly propelled to fame, that they signed onto the early Dreamworks label at the turn of the century, contributing 'Stay Home' to the original Shrek film soundtrack. That they influenced music history forever with the resources at their disposal to continue experimenting with the available sounds before them. But a combination of factors that fans and outside speculators alike have interrogated for the last 20 years would ultimately dim the shine of Self.
First was the collapse of the Dreamworks label in 2003. “They went to a lot of artists on that label and were like, ‘Hey, you guys, we let you do what you want on the first album because we want to have a good reputation for making cool art. This time around, we kind of need something for the radio,’” Mahaffey said. At the same time, he was working on Self’s fifth studio album, Ornament and Crime. But just before they were to release the album, Dreamworks sold the label, which was ultimately dissolved, leaving the album on hiatus.
Second was the untimely passing of Mike Mahaffey in 2005, which happened suddenly while the younger Mahaffey was on tour in London with Beck. Losing one half of the creative vision behind the band and its lead guitarist, in the eyes of many fans, was the shattering point. That might be an overzealous exaggeration of the story behind Self. But Mahaffey said, “for obvious reasons,” his brother’s passing did effectively confirm at least a short period of radio silence from the band as their personal and professional lives changed elsewhere.
It was this outside change that, as he conveyed it, seemed to have the greatest impact on not just Mahaffey’s career but the whole band’s collective future. When Maglia signed Self onto Zoo Entertainment’s record alongside Spongebath in 1997, Mahaffey recalled him calling their music ahead of its time. Their distinct electric sound that blended the rhythm of hip hop with the harmonies of rock and pop music in a way that pioneered the alternative scene so early on was among the first of its kind on an industry level.
“I think I was trying to blend a lot of different things and put a lot of square pegs in round holes that hadn't really gone together yet,” he said. “I wore all my influences on my sleeve, (...) I was trying to cram Prince and Depeche Mode and Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails and Weezer, (...) and, you know, funk and jazz and everything into this tiny package.”
Despite the millions of dollars poured into Self so early on, however, Mahaffey says the record buying public at the time largely felt like it was a lot of noise. Yet, that doesn't seem to hurt his feelings all that much. “When I look at it, I'm super thankful because I have friends that had a big number one song, and they're my age and they're like, ‘Well, I gotta go out on the road for three months and leave my kids and sing that damn song every night,’” he said.
He looked to his right, a smile creeping onto his face as he began to say the next few sentences through a raspy chuckle. “And it's like, that's what I wanted. That's what you want when you get into rock, we're like, ‘I just want that hit song that everybody loves.’ And I never had one because my stuff's weird.”
Perhaps at the time that was true. As Mahaffey describes it, perhaps the public’s “music ADD” wasn’t equipped for the combinations Self put together, the eclectic variety that birthed every new Self song, and the genreless limbo it existed in.
Mahaffey still had to earn a living after Self’s indefinite pause in 2005. “So I started working on Shrek and I started working on films. I started working for Hans Zimmer. And I was just like, this is where I belong. We make weird music. Composition is the place,” he said. “I toured in Beck's band for two years and got to play with Radiohead and every band that I grew up listening to. So it's like, and I still didn't like it, you know? I liked the people I was with, but it's just like, yeah, you're in Rome, but for like two hours, right? You're not seeing Rome. You're just physically there (...) I am more of a studio rat.”
So, a studio rat Mahaffey became, pursuing composition as his full-time job while Self became something of a distant, if not fond memory. The same was true of his band mates, who would produce Prince’s last albums and book talent on the Jimmy Kimmel show, respectively. Mahaffey equated their collective work ethic to the band Pavement, which broke up in 2000, returned to tour in 2010, and once more from 2022 to 2024, toying with the idea of a new album. “They live all over the place and they’re just like, ‘You want to tour? Yeah, I got a minute.’ And they rehearse a couple of times and they go tour,” Mahaffey said. “And I was like, let's be like Pavement. We'll just do that.”
Mahaffey smiled as he recounted his new career in composition, reiterating the love he has for Self that ultimately made it possible. “I love making records, but I love scoring,” he said with a boyish grin on his face. “Like it is just, I can't wait to work every morning. I’m just like ‘Coffee! Oh boy!’” He began to laugh to himself, “I'm so excited about my work all the time. ‘Cause it's infinitely rewarding. ‘Cause it's a brand new challenge every single day.”
Acting as Self, Mahaffey did release their 2014 EP Super Fake Nice in a unique moment for him after he had built his dream studio, but it was more in line with the Pavement method of a periodic release in the middle of his busy days producing over 80 minutes of music for animation a month than it was a full return of Self. The EP was met with largely positive reviews, but some of the revamped sounds of the band in its modern form, taking on new harmonic equations to generate songs such as 'Runaway' did throw some reviewers off, expecting a mid 90s nostalgia-fest.
In the background, however, the platforming power of the internet to promote and store the unique sounds of Self would serve as not only a time capsule of their moment, but an opportunity for new fans with broader tastes for music in the future to discover the hidden gem that was the band. When Mahaffey finally got verified on Spotify thanks to a manager friend, however, this quiet underbelly of Self fandom would explode for the first time in 10 years.
“It just got ridiculous. Where it was like 40,000 [followers], you know, I got 40,000, what is going on?” said Mahaffey. His verification on Spotify couldn’t have come at a better time, either. Other alt rock bands were getting verified and pushed together by Spotify’s new AI algorithm, such as Tally Hall and Lemon Demon. And it was one night, he passionately recalled, his daughter had the answer as to why. “She's like, ‘Dad, I think I've sleuthed it out.’ And she shows me her phone. And it's a video of Talley Hall listening to Dead Man and people thinking that it's a new Talley Hall song.”
What this signaled as well was that Self was doing well with kids. Young people, as young as 14 years old, were discovering Self through TikTok edits and montages featuring some of Self’s most standout work. As the fandom surged online, they have begun scouring the internet for all the lost media of Self, one young fan commenting under the song, 'No One Knows You' on YouTube, “LOL THE WAY EVERYONE IS DISCOVERING SELF AT THE SAME TIME.”
To Mahaffey, who once spoke to Alternative Press a decade ago about the influx of younger fans 20 years after Self’s debut, to see that influx continue at full steam 30 years after Subliminal Plastic Motives has been nothing if not gratifying.
Today, Mahaffey continues to compose full time, still fulfilled by the new musical creations he gets to experiment with day in and day out. “I'm writing more in this day and age than I ever did pumping out Self songs,” he said. More than that, the freedom his new life has given him has allowed him to more passionately pursue his family life alongside his work. “If I'm not doing that, then I'm hanging out with my kids. It's like, I want to be a competent father. My daughter has a rock band. Covered ‘Runaway’ two weeks ago at a show and didn't tell me about it. And that is incredible.” He laughed to himself.
As 2024’s release of 'Love You Less' indicates, Mahaffey isn’t ready to let go of the band that made all of this possible. “I want to do a record. And I have a bunch of cool stuff,” Mahaffey said, pointing behind himself to his home studio setup. In between different unfinished works, he took the time to polish off the peppy, upbeat love ballad that wasn’t quite what he had in mind for a sixth album.
The song could be taken as indicative of what a new Self record will sound and feel like, carrying with it two worlds: One, the band’s distinct blend of 90s hip hop and alt grunge that is hard to recreate unless, like Mahaffey, you were literally there. The other will be the new sounds he’s been listening to, more instrumental, grand, no doubt working in his composition experience to give Self fans something worth waiting for.
“It's one of those things that has to just be a labor of love,” he said. “You can't expect, like, anything in return other than, hopefully, comments online of people being like, ‘I like this.’”
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