Upright Brewing, 2009-2025
Two days ago, one of America’s best breweries announced its closure:
“Well folks, it’s with a heavy heart that I have to say this, but the time has come to close the brewery. Upright has been a proud part of the Portland beer scene for over sixteen years, a time that has been a bit of a roller coaster with change in the industry as well as the world at large. It has been an incredible experience on our end, and I hope that we helped people feel joy and stimulation, whether it was by way of a tasty beer or an honest chat in the taproom.”
Since the moment Alex Ganum founded the brewery in 2009, Upright had a unique voice and perspective that never wavered, though it did change as Alex and the brewers continued to explore new styles and techniques. Alex is one of a handful of the most gifted brewers I’ve encountered in my travels around the world, and on a number of occasions, tasting his beer left me startled by its originality and accomplishment. With its singular vision and personality, Upright was an irreplaceable brewery. I have written a lot of these obituaries over the years, but none has left me feeling as empty as I do writing this one.
Just last year, for the brewery’s 15th, I wrote an extensive post considering what made Upright special. It captures what we’ll miss when the brewery shuts the door the last time.
“Alex is one of the most curious brewers in the world, and his style preferences have morphed in waves over the years, from rustic Belgian/French farmhouse ales to lagers to hoppy ales to cask ales (with a dose of wild ales as one important stabilizing through-line). They often predict where the market will head, and perhaps, at least in Portland, anyway, help guide it there. The brewery is little-known outside the Northwest, and I have often felt that had Alex left his internship at Ommegang and gone east to Vermont, Upright would have become Hill Farmstead-buzzy.
“On the other hand, perhaps the Portland he discovered in the mid-aughts was central to what Upright became. In any case, it is one of the best breweries in the country, and far too obscure for its accomplishments…. For me, the brewery is simple and straightforward, but it’s very personal. It’s been very close to me and dear to my life. It’s been so hard the last four years, but it made me reflect. I just fucking love making beer.”
Craft brewing has spent a huge amount of time navel-gazing over what it means to have a clear vision. This often bled into marketing bromides, as breweries repackaged derivative products as original and creative. That development led to some of the cynicism that marks the mood today. Upright did have a clear vision, however—and Alex seemed almost immune to commercial considerations. Upright always felt more like a sixth-generation Belgian or Franconian brewery than an American craft brewery to me.
Alex captured this right from the start with the brewery’s name—one both obscure and referential (and reverential). It refers to jazz musician Charles Mingus and the instrument he played, an upright bass. Richard Ginell, writing for Blue Note records, described Mingus as “intensely ambitious yet often earthy in expression, simultaneously radical and deeply traditional” a man whose art “took elements from everything he had experienced.” Those same words could have been written about Alex. He always understood the traditions of the beers he brewed like a historian, and that knowledge allowed him to riff in ways that were, like his namesake “simultaneously radical and deeply traditional.”
“Mingus was really the perfect fit to the way we do things,” Alex said last year. “His music had so many unconventional themes, but he was 100% behind what he was doing. He was stubborn to a fault. I maybe have too much of that in me.” Those comments didn’t ring like an epitaph when I heard them, but they may serve as one now. What made Upright special—the rustic lagers, saisons, wild ales, offbeat hoppy beers, and cask ales—meant it didn’t always appeal to a broad audience. Like avant-garde jazz, it thrilled those who understood the form deeply, but may have been inaccessible to the hazy IPA fan. In the years before Covid, Upright’s tidy little business model (“I never want to brew more than 1,200 barrels,” Alex once told me) managed the delicate balance between passion and commercial viability. With fewer people buying beer and visiting pubs post-Covid, Upright—like so many nice things we apparently can’t have—finally fell out of that commercial and artistic balance.
There will never be another Upright, though you have a bit of time to enjoy the one we have. The brewery won’t close until the end of the year, so make sure you stop in to sample a bit of Portland brewing history—and some of the best beer you will be able to find anywhere in the world.