Twenty-five years later, wintery young-adult alienation still creeps over “Spider in the Snow” like frost. The fourth song on the Dismemberment Plan’s Emergency & I starts with synthesized strings wafting like steam through a sidewalk grate. Air hangs cold and still around the bass and drums as Travis Morrison looks back on a group of friends from his early 20s, when he lived in a group house on 13th Street NW and hung out at D.C.’s State of the Union club. In just a few years, he became so distant from those friends he forgot their names.

“At that time in your life, people say you’re looking for love, but you’re really looking for home,” says Morrison. The death of his father and birth of his nephew around that time left him all the more existentially adrift. “I was a little haunted,” Morrison says, adding that, after a parent’s death, “You can’t stop oblivion. All those things together, the shards of trying to connect to people and not understanding why they didn’t leave an impression in my mind … I was already starting to think about solidity, and if it even exists.”

City Paper spoke with  Morrison from his home in Durham, North Carolina, ahead of Emergency & I’s anniversary. This month, the album will be the same age as he was when he wrote its songs. After a quarter of a century, it still soundtracks 20-somethings shuffling through the snowdrifts of postadolescence, leaving behind prefabricated college social circles, and struggling to find homes, literal and figurative, in a larger world. Dismemberment Plan broke up in 2003, two years after releasing their fourth album, Change, but their music kept spreading. The band continue to pack, and often sell out, venues any time they make a comeback, as they did from 2010 to 2014 (a reunion that produced a fifth album, Uncanney Valley), and again for a brief mid-Atlantic tour this September. Somewhere along the way, Morrison noticed a shift in the audience’s age.

“Back then, the attendance was almost totally our peer group,” Morrision says, referring to the band’s initial run. “Now we have a relatively flat spectrum. The North Carolina show had a ton of younger people—they really pushed my parent friends from my kids’ school to the back.”

With its odd time signatures and dissonant guitars, Emergency & I isn’t an album you hear for the first time over stereo speakers at a house party, and it never made an impact on terrestrial radio. Morrison notes that it arrived in a no-man’s-land between the post-Nirvana alt-rock of the 1990s and the post-punk revival spearheaded by the Strokes in the early 2000s. Though the Dismemberment Plan counted acts such as the Promise Ring and Rainer Maria as friends, their wackiness put them squarely outside Midwest emo orthodoxy. Instead, with the help of the early internet, they became a continuous phenomenon unmoored from any trend; they had no aesthetic wave to lift them, but they did have thousands of Napster users and online radio listeners.

“We’re a band that’s pretty friendly to being left alone; you have your headphones on, and you’re like, ‘What the fuck is this shit?’” says Morrison. “And then you go to the show and there’s actually 200 people there, [you’re] like, ‘I don’t even know, but let’s give it a whirl.’”

Streaming algorithms and digital publications keep that dynamic alive today, but the question remains: Why the influx of Gen Z listeners? What makes 2024’s recent high school graduates so susceptible to offbeat songs about isolation and oblivion?

You could point to social media. “You Are Invited,” a magical realist parable about making peace with FOMO, hits hard in the age of the Instagram story. But if you ask young listeners, you get an even more obvious explanation: Lots of them came of age during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. Skylar Jones, a 20-year-old fan from Maryland’s Eastern Shore, saw the band at their Richmond show this fall after discovering Emergency & I through a Spotify recommendation in late 2020.

“All I could really do in that moment was listen to music, discover music, and talk to my friends on Discord about music because it really was an escape from the rocky state of school and shit,” they say. “I think they’re a band that everyone can relate to, in a way. Very anxious and frightened about the future, yearning for something from the past … and having to move forward in life, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.”

Marlena Nagle, a 19-year-old from Arlington, tells a similar story. At the end of a Death Grips album, Spotify’s algorithm cued up Dismemberment Plan’s “Girl O’Clock,” a burst of sexual frustration that boils over into a nervous, stuttering breakdown. Her interest piqued, Nagle tried out the rest of Emergency & I, which stuck with her through the worst of the pandemic and the depression that it amplified.

“I remember listening to ‘The Jitters’ repeatedly one day and feeling like, ‘Wow, this guy just gets it,’” she says.

Nagle also credits the album with connecting her to her partner, Ben Ratner, the drummer for local band Heroes for Ghosts. This May, the two met at a show for pop-punk band Mach Zero at a VFW post in McLean. Afterward, Ratner offered her a ride to the Metro.

“My Emergency & I CD was playing, and she went, ‘Dude, I know this one!’” Ratner remembers. “I put on ‘Girl O’Clock’ and said, ‘You know this one though?’ She knew every freaking word, dude. I fell in love at that moment.”

Ratner, 20, discovered Emergency & I in 2021, during his senior year of high school. The boldness of it captivated him—particularly in drummer Joe Easley’s heart palpitation rhythm on “Girl O’Clock.” He convinced his bandmates in Heroes for Ghosts to cover the song after “a manic bout of determination” drove him to practice the drum part for weeks straight. Ultimately, they recorded that cover, featuring Nagle on backup vocals, for Heroes for Ghosts’s upcoming debut album, Powerslide.

“We think it’s really funny to have it as our song, especially considering the subject matter,” says Nagle.

When Dismemberment Plan kicked off their September tour at the Atlantis (followed by a second night at the 9:30 Club), Nagle, Ratner, and Heroes for Ghosts’ lead guitarist Ibrahim El-Sayed met Morrison before the show to tell him their story. During the set, Morrison dedicated “Girl O’Clock” to them and dubbed their friend group “the chaos committee” for their high energy in the pit. Also part of the committee: 19-year-old John Galdamez, who discovered the Dismemberment Plan while reading Pitchfork reviews in 2021. At the time, Galdamez was struggling to recover from a strained social life after a year of online classes. More recently, they became friends with Nagle, Ratner, and El-Sayed by way of the “Girl O’Clock” cover.

“I met this group of friends because I’m friends with their band’s bassist, who told me to come to their show because they were covering the Plan,” says Galdamez. “So really, if it weren’t for the Plan, I wouldn’t have made this great group of friends.”

The reunion shows have evolved in more than just demographic makeup. Fans used to swarm the stage during “The Ice of Boston,” but today’s venue safety rules would require the Dismemberment Plan to cap the number of fans allowed up. Instead, on this tour, they reversed the tradition. Morrison, guitarist Jason Caddell, and bassist Eric Axelson played the song from the GA pit. (Just as well, says Morrison—people were better at keeping their hands to themselves on the floor: “[On stage] people would kinda … touch me. There would be some rock ’n’ roll boundary pushing …When I went down there, it was like I was coming to their house, and it was much less messy!”)

The band’s traditional set closer, “OK, Joke’s Over,” has also evolved. It always ends with a partial cover of a current pop song, and for September’s shows, they chose Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.” (Morrison spent a good chunk of our conversation raving about Roan’s The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess and its album-length narrative arc about looking for home.)

Following an appearance at the United Sounds NYC Festival on Oct. 25, the Dismemberment Plan will return to hiatus until further notice; Morrison says their other jobs will keep them off the road for the next few years at least. Remarkably, he says, some of their songs have grown with him over decades of touring them in sporadic, stop-start fashion. When he sings “Spider in the Snow” now, he thinks about his children navigating the unknowns of their own young adulthood. Still, he speaks with modest bewilderment about Emergency & I’s enduring impact. Did he ever foresee talking about it 25 years later? “Oh, no,” he says, with a self-deprecating cackle. “When I was 25? Are you crazy? Thinking like that?”

“Fighting oblivion is generally a losing bet,” he says. “Oblivion, father time, tends to win. I think we gave [the album] a little time to sink, and, in my life, I’ve seen incredible music, incredible bands, sink. Why it’s floated this far, I don’t know. It’s humbling, and I’m incredibly grateful.”

The album’s first song, “A Life of Possibilities,” ends on this very theme: the inherent risk in trying to connect with other people and in devoting yourself to something as unusual as Emergency & I. “If it’s a life of possibilities/ That you’ve gotta live,” say the lyrics, “Well, don’t be surprised/ When they don’t remember you/ Or simply don’t want to.”

But then again, don’t be too surprised if they do.

The Christmas lights went dark about two minutes into “24 Hr Drive-Thru.” On a Saturday night in November 2019, D.C. emo duo Origami Angel were celebrating the release of their debut album, Somewhere City, at Planet Slush (a College Park basement venue with cinder block walls), topping a bill packed with local acts such as Commander Salamander and out-of-towners like Stars Hollow. Guitarist Ryland Heagy hit the half-second, Dr. Pepper-fueled solo in the song’s breakdown…

“And then I raised my hand and turned off the lights by accident,” says Jared Cunanan—now the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of local emo band Cuni. “I will claim that. That’s my palm that turned the lights off.”

That night, Cunanan left his fingerprints on a light switch—going on five years later, he’s getting ready to leave a more permanent mark on the scene. Ahead of the independent release of Cuni’s debut album, Prescribed Burn (streaming since Sept. 20), Cunanan and lead guitarist Aaron Millison sat down at a Chinese Korean fusion joint off Dupont Circle, not far from the art gallery where Millison works by day, to reminisce and meditate on the state of emo in D.C. 

Originally short for “emotional hardcore,” emo developed as an introspective offshoot of the District’s legendary punk scene in the 1980s, pioneered by pre-Fugazi bands like Rites of Spring and Embrace. Across generations of bands, the genre assimilated the technicality of math rock and the melodicism of pop punk. Prescribed Burn is as much a personal statement as it is a tribute to the enduring power of emo in the sound’s hometown, and, for Cuni, it all started at that basement show.

“It was one of the coolest nights of my life,” says Cunanan. “Like, ‘Oh, I wanna do this. I wanna play in bands.’”

At 25, Cunanan calls himself “the world’s latest bloomer.” Growing up in Gaithersburg, he took piano lessons from age 7 until high school graduation; he even went through the customary pop-punk phase as a teen, getting into Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and My Chemical Romance (he shows up to the interview sporting the official MCR “Boy Zone” shirt, designed to look like a Tiger Beat cover). Even so, he didn’t pick up a guitar and start writing his own music until 2018, when he was studying at the University of Maryland. He latched onto both the raw, expressive lyricism of emo, and, in finger tapping—particularly as performed by Yvette Young of Bay Area band Covet—he found his instrumental entry point on guitar.

“’Cause Yvette Young is also an Asian person playing this music that is [typically] a lot of angsty White guys,” says Cunanan. “But also, she plays guitar like it’s a piano, and I related to that a lot. I didn’t even know you could play guitar like that.”

Channel that inspiration through online production tutorials from Steve Lacy and Kenny Beats, and you get the debut Cuni EP, Saturn, released in 2020 as a Cunanan solo project. It’s emo by way of post-punk and bedroom pop, featuring hushed vocals over programmed drums and fluttering fretboard workouts. After graduating in 2021, he teamed up with childhood friend and bassist Franklin Parada, and the two started performing as a duo accompanied by backing tracks.

“He also went to UMD and was the only bassist I knew, because I didn’t talk to other musicians,” says Cunanan. “Because I’ve known him forever, it felt very natural … Cuni is the first band I’ve [been] in, and it kinda seemed like, ‘Yeah, I need him to be the one that’s beside me while I do all this weird stuff.’”

At their second-ever gig—opening for Walter, Etc. and Leisure Sport at Pie Shop—they met Millison, a guitarist with the chops to match Cuni’s ambition. Millison was raised on Rush, and as a veteran of high school jazz band and Silver Spring’s School of Rock, he brought ensemble experience. He could play in open guitar tunings and tap, and he saw emo as a musical trojan horse: When your choruses are as personal and cathartic as emo’s tend to be, you can get away with playing in time signatures and song structures usually reserved for prog rock songs about elves.

“Emo always seemed like a way to make things that were unattainable more attainable,” says Millison. “Being able to play music that’s full of emotion, full of technicality, full of things that I hold dear, but it’s [also] easy, and people can relate to it. People can understand it.”

Sure enough, you might miss the structural flourishes of Prescribed Burn for the sheer post-hardcore force of it. The addition of Millison and drummer Lucas Kirby made Cuni louder, faster, and angrier; the volume of the full band and the shared adrenaline of performing as a quartet pushed Cunanan to scream until the sound of Saturn went up in smoke. The band tests their limits on “Hypocrite,” a conflagration of blast beats and blackgaze howls. The lyrics of Prescribed Burn up the aggression in turn, with an album-length arc that uses the controlled burning of forests as an analogue for self-destruction in the aftermath of a lost friendship.

“You have a friend that you’re really close to, you lose them in the forest, and then you’re really guilty about it,” Cunanan explains. “And the only way to get over it is to burn the entire forest down so there’s nothing to remind you of it … it’s cathartic in the worst way possible.” 

Millison points to a stanza from the title track as a summation of the concept and his favorite lyric on the album: “Tell me where the fire should start/ Arson’s a pill to take, not much an art/ Made for therapy and never for fun/ ’Cause I’d rather see smoke than accept what I’ve done.”

Cunanan calls the narrative of Prescribed Burn a “thesis statement to the world”—something he’s deeply proud of having written. Don’t mistake his seriousness for humorlessness, though; the ironic, referential song titles of Saturn may be gone, but no fire burns hot enough to cleanse an emo band of its penchant for inside jokes. The album’s last song, “Riley,” gives a hopeful end to Cuni’s saga of self-immolation, and it closes with a brief piano solo. What inspired that sharp turn? Cunanan lights up with glee at the question, but restrains himself.

“This is before Kendrick Lamar happened, but let’s say a certain Canadian individual had a song that ended on piano,” says Cunanan. “It’s one of his saddest songs, and I thought that was really funny. I wanted a thank you to my piano teacher—my musical history, and it’s good closure. But jokingly, I do say it is a reference to a certain Canadian individual.” He pauses for effect before adding “who is not like us.” That’s as much as he’ll say on the record. (Incidentally, the outro on “Riley” bears a striking resemblance to “Marvin’s Room” by Drake.)

You could think of Prescribed Burn as a photo negative image of Stay Golden, the pop-punk leaning sophomore record from Baltimore’s Combat—produced, as it happens, by Ryland Heagy of Origami Angel. One album’s title refers to self-destruction, the other to self-preservation, though the concepts are hard to distinguish on a line-by-line level. 

Both albums also carry a reverence for the DMV as an incubator of emo. Cunanan and Millison reject the framework of waves generally used to organize the genre’s eras, especially when it comes to their own music and the ongoing fifth wave of emo. (Saturn, with its electronic arrangements and homemade aesthetic, fits the bill). Instead, the members of Cuni see themselves as carrying the torch for the past decade’s underrecognized local strain of emo revival.

“Journalists have yet to get to it, but in the late 2010s, there was a huge boom in the DMV,” says Millison. “Bands like Origami Angel, Knope, Courage Mother, Magazine Beach, Commander Salamander—they were holding it down for emo in this area. We’ve come up much later, but I consider ourselves a continuation of that era.”

Is there a cohesive D.C. emo scene these days? Not exactly, they say—Cuni mostly play mixed bills with their friends in adjacent genres like post-emo project Spring Silver and post-hardcore band Ekko Astral (whose guitarist, Liam Hughes, engineered Prescribed Burn at American University). Still, Cuni take every opportunity to hype up the local emo bands of the 2010s who are still around post-pandemic. Earlier this summer, Cunanan says, the band talked Courage Mother into playing their first show in years, and in August, they partnered with Knope for Cuni’s first tour. As they enter their Prescribed Burn era, you could say Cuni are doing their part to keep the fire of D.C. emo alive.

Prescribed Burn is now streaming. Cuni’s album release show starts at 10 p.m. on Sept. 28 at Comet Ping Pong. cometpingpong.com. $18.54.

Cuni plays on Oct. 31 with Keep Your Secrets, Soul Meets Body, stmnts, and Black Locust at the Garage. instagram.com.

If you’ve seen live music in D.C., you’ve most likely seen David Combs—whether he scanned your ticket, passed you on the edge of the pit, or took the stage himself. As a prolific showgoer, talent buyer for the Black Cat, Comet Ping Pong, and Quarry House Tavern, and as a performer with power pop projects Dim Wizard and Bad Moves, he’s about as embedded in the D.C. scene as a person can be. That’s nominative determinism for you; after all, his initials are D.C.

With Bad Moves’ third album, Wearing Out the Refrain, coming out Sept. 13, Combs offered City Paper his take on the most exciting D.C. shows of the fall. His list starts with the Bad Moves album release celebration at the Black Cat on Sept. 27, featuring a “real banger lineup” composed of New England garage punk band Perennial and local post-hardcore stars Ekko Astral (“who are just, at the risk of offending anybody, the most exciting band in the city right now,” says Combs). He also discussed D.C.’s rejuvenated scene post-COVID and how Bad Moves put in two years of work to make Wearing Out the Refrain their biggest, baddest move ever.

What are your most anticipated events of the season?

In the shows-I’m-not-playing category, I’ll give it to you in chronological order: Sept 29, there’s a show at Comet Ping Pong for a band called Crush Fund from Brooklyn, who are one of the best live bands I’ve seen in a while–really raging post-punk. We’ve gotten to play with them. We’ve gotten to put on shows for them at Comet and Quarry House, and every time, they bring it. The show starts at 9 p.m. at Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Ave. NW. $15. 

Oct. 12, we have Bed Maker at Comet Ping Pong, another amazing post-punk band. A local band that has never disappointed any time I’ve seen them. I cannot say who they’re playing with, but it is a secret special guest who I think will be exciting for folks from D.C. especially. The show starts at 10 p.m. on Oct. 12 at Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Ave. NW. $15.

Black Cat on Oct. 19, Illuminati Hotties is playing. Just one of my favorite songwriters, favorite producers. I got to work with Sarah [Tudzin] on producing some Dim Wizard tracks. She just rules, and they rule live, and they just put out a new record, and the record rules. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $20–$25. 

Quarry House Tavern on Oct. 22 is Kississippi, Talker, and Pretty Bitter. Kississippi and Talker are on tour together and Pretty Bitter is the D.C. band that makes 100 percent sense to play with them. I came up with a genre descriptor that applies to all three: emo-tinged indie pop. All of these bands released music this summer that ruled, and more people should be paying attention to them. Great songwriters across all three acts. The show starts at 8:30 p.m. at Quarry House Tavern, 8401 Georgia Ave., Silver Spring. $19.84.

The very next day [Oct. 23] at Quarry House, we have this really cool band Iguana Death Cult. It’s like surfy post-punk. The kind of thing you listen to and you’re like, “This band has got to be from Australia,” but they’re actually from the Netherlands. I think that’s gonna be an exciting band, and in a space that’s perfect for that sort of music. Quarry House is dingy and divey, and there’s certain music that I would rather see there than anywhere else. The show starts at 8:30 p.m. at Quarry House Tavern, 8401 Georgia Ave., Silver Spring. $19.84.

What makes something stand out to you as a booking opportunity? You must be inundated with stuff to consider.

There are a finite number of shows that we can put on so we certainly get a lot more than we can handle. I try to make sure everything gets a listen. It’s very hard to keep up with all the emails, and as a rule, we don’t even dip into the DMs because it’s a whole other world. I try to see if there’s any community around a genre of music in the city that a show would be serving, and definitely try to bring touring acts through that … [well] it’s exciting if they can be complemented by something happening locally.

How would you describe the state of the scene right now? 

D.C. has always been a really important music city, in spite of its reputation being for the political industry … But obviously, you can point to jazz, and hardcore, and go-go, and post-punk, and all these genres of music that have thrived here. It’s an expensive city, so it’s a hard place for artists to live … But nevertheless, because there’s such a rich history, there’s always exciting … often politicized music. Not, like, political sloganeering—there’s just a smart, culturally aware trend of music in this city.

The pandemic was a really bad blow to all music scenes everywhere. A lot of bands didn’t survive, and it took a little time for the scene to get out of that slump. But I feel like right now, there’s as many exciting bands and artists coming out of the city as there have ever been since I’ve been part of the music scene. Often I’m seeing people I know in other parts of the country post a song from a D.C. band that I wouldn’t have even expected [them to know]—that’s always awesome.

What can people expect from the Bad Moves record? 

We wrote and recorded as we went along, which isn’t something we’ve done before. Then we just kind of labored over the production. I feel like it’s our best record—that’s how you’re supposed to feel when you put something new out, but I do feel that way. It’s leaned into all of our strengths that we had on the other records, but then also adding extra stuff—percussion, horns, or a synth here and there—just splattered in. Nothing that doesn’t sound like us, but trying to take each song and find how we could make it sound as big as possible. I feel like we accomplished that—hopefully that gets across. Bad Moves play at 8 p.m. on Sept. 27 at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $20. 

Check out more of our 2024 Fall Arts Guide here.

Azymuth at the Black Cat on Sept. 5
This jazz-funk band formed in 1973, and while bassist Alex Malheiros is the only surviving member of that original trio, the group have continued to make music, with a pair of solid albums in 2020. Two years ago, Malheiros released his first album in more than a decade, and the Azymuth sound—rooted in the ’70s fusion but reverent of Brazil’s long pop legacy before and after—remains intact, and as vital as ever. The show starts at 7:30 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $35–$40. —Pat Padua

BLK ODYSSY at the Atlantis on Sept. 6
To residents of the Texas Capital, BLK ODYSSY is an artist to know. That knowledge should be spread outside Austin City limits. Words like “smooth vibes,” “sultry,” and “utterly intoxicating” are used to describe BLK ODYSSY’s sound, which throws a middle finger to genre boxes, dabbling in soul, hip-hop, and indie rock with touches of funk. Catch him touring with his latest album, 1-800-Fantasy. The show starts at 6:30 p.m. at the Atlantis, 2047 9th St. NW. $35. —Sarah Marloff  

Pillow Queens at Songbyrd on Sept. 7

Whenever a band 1) you like rocking to in your headphones 2) that hails from overseas comes stateside, you do your best to make it to the show. Ireland’s Pillow Queens would be great openers for Julien Baker (playing in D.C. on Sept. 27), Waxahatchee (at Wolf Trap on Sept. 6), or (fellow Dubliners) Fontaines DC (at the 9:30 Club on Oct. 18). Perhaps All Things Go can find a slot for this queer indie four-piece on 2025’s lineup. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Songbyrd, 540 Penn St. NE. $18–$20. —Brandon Wetherbee 

Pretty Bitter and Cherub Tree at Pie Shop on Sept. 8
Two of D.C.’s most fun live bands open for Brooklyn’s riot grrrl-inspired alt-rockers Birthday Girl. Pretty Bitter serve dreamy emo synth-pop (and they say this might be their last show for a minute), while Cherub Tree’s bubblegrunge is fueled by punk sensibilities. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Pie Shop, 1339 H St. NE. $12–$15. —Sarah Marloff  

Distrito Music Fest at Songbyrd on Sept. 14

The talent and artistry pulsing through SIE7E, Tres Minutos, Max Rosado, Soroche, and JChris has made these five local Latin American bands grow in recognition in recent years. Each of them are connected by varied influences that stretch beyond the DMV, which makes boxing them into a single genre largely impossible and it doesn’t begin to do justice to the bands’ repertoire. The raw, pulsating spirit that each act delivers with ease only gets stronger with every show, and I can’t wait to see this energy take over Songbyrd at one of the few local festivals highlighting local Latin American artists. The show starts at 3 p.m. at Songbyrd, 540 Penn St. NE. $38.63. —Heidi Perez-Moreno

Joyce Moreno at Blues Alley on Sept. 14 and 15
With chestnuts like the surprise club hit “Aldeia de Ogum,” this singer-guitarist has made some of the catchiest music of MPB, the sometimes jazzy pop music that can run from bossa nova to the more eclectic sounds of Tropicalia. She’ll be in town to play the once-lost ’70s album Natureza, and the extended version of her ebullient signature anthem “Feminina.” Moreno plays at 7 and 9:30 p.m. on both days at Blues Alley, 1073 Wisconsin Ave. NW. $40. —Pat Padua

Kehlani at EagleBank Arena on Sept. 18

Talk about a doubleheader: On Sept. 18, self-described “raging lesbian” singer Kehlani plays EagleBank Arena in Fairfax while queer pop star/celesbian drama magnet Fletcher hits the stage at the Anthem. The Fletcher show is sold out, but tickets are very much still available for Kehlani’s show, perhaps because the artist has been embroiled in personal controversy all summer. Regardless, the queer agenda did not coordinate well on this one. The show starts at 8 p.m. at EagleBank Arena, 4500 Patriot Cir., Fairfax. $35–$129. —Amelia Roth-Dishy

HFStival at Nationals Park on Sept. 21
People of the 1990s, rejoice! I.M.P. is resurrecting the annual D.C. festival formerly run by WHFS in the heyday of alternative rock radio (1990–2006). In homage to HFStival’s roots, this year features Incubus, Bush, Liz Phair (replacing Garbage), Jimmy Eat World, Girl Talk, Violent Femmes, Tonic, Filter, and Lit, headlined by the Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie (great news for those who missed their dual anniversary tour last September). The festival starts at noon at Nationals Park, 1500 South Capitol St. SE. $150–$250. —Taylor Ruckle

LEIF at the Pocket on Sept. 23
In our Spring Arts Guide we introduced D.C. to the WRIZZARDS, a Filipino multi-genre collective. LEIF, who makes pop infused with alt rock, is part of that collective. The show starts at 7 p.m at the Pocket, 1506 North Capitol St. NW. $15–$20. —Sarah Marloff

Local H at Pearl Street Warehouse on Sept. 23
Touring behind one of their best LPs in Local H’s 30-plus year career, 2004’s Whatever Happened to PJ Soles?, Scott Lucas and Ryan Harding are lifers that fit on nostalgia bills but don’t attempt to relive the glory days. Instead they just provide excellent albums and stellar live shows that incorporate radio-friendly unit-shifters from the ’90s, introspective ballads from the ’00s, oddly effective covers from the ’10s (Lorde?), and screeds of righteous indignation triggered by right-wing politics in the 2020s. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Pearl Street Warehouse, 33 Pearl St. SW. $25–$40. —Brandon Wetherbee 

Bad Moves at the Black Cat on Sept. 27

We would be remiss not to mention the record release show for the local indie quartet recently described in this very paper as the “purveyors of anthemic guitar pop songs for underdogs.” You can also sample Ocelot Brewing’s latest musical beer collab, this time with Bad Moves and dubbed Outta My Head, a “power hop” IPA with bright, bold hops, malted oats, flaked wheat, and a 6.3 percent ABV. Added bonus: Ekko Astral open. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $20. —Sarah Marloff  

Outerloop at Pie Shop on Sept. 27
Not to make choices harder for you, but across town from Bad Moves’ record release show, post-punk band Outerloop are celebrating the release of their EP, which WCP critic Dora Segall says “packs a dense and eclectic array of lyrics and instrumental layers.” The show starts at 8 p.m. at Pie Shop, 1339 H St. NE. $15. —Sarah Marloff  

Adeem the Artist at DC9 on Sept. 29

Country music comes in any color you can find on a pride flag—not just the usual red, white, and blue. Nonbinary Knoxville singer-songwriter Adeem the Artist proved it on their albums Cast Iron Pansexual and White Trash Revelry, and they continue to capture the spectrum on their latest LP. Anniversary is another twangy and boldly political collection of songs that renders the culture of the American South in all its manifold hues, both light and dark. The show starts at 8 p.m. at DC9, 1940 9th St. NW. $20. —Taylor Ruckle 

Crush Fund at Comet Ping Pong on Sept. 29

“Unwanted Attention” makes for an easy two-word summary of the perils of trans visibility in 2024. In the hands of New York City queercore trio Crush Fund, it also makes for a raucous punk shout-along (produced by the incomparable Marissa Paternoster of Screaming Females). Likewise, the title of their latest EP, New Fixation, forecasts your relationship with the band, once you see them live—just be cool about it. The show starts at 9 p.m. at Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Ave. NW. $15. —Taylor Ruckle 

Infinity Song at Songbyrd on Oct. 1

Infinity Song, a band of four Detroit siblings, will play Songbyrd fresh off their All Things Go debut a few days earlier on Sept. 29. The up-and-coming R&B band got their big break in 2016 when Jeymes Samuel sent a video of the group busking in Central Park to Jay-Z. They later signed with Jiggaman’s label Roc Nation. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Songbyrd, 540 Penn St. NE. $25. —Serena Zets

Chromeo and the Midnight at the Anthem on Oct. 3

It’s been a decade since the Montreal electro-funk duo Chromeo took the dance music scene by storm with “Jealous (I Ain’t with It),” but Dave and Pee are back with a polished yet still funky sound and tackling fraught subjects like relationships in your 40s. Complementing them is the Midnight, a band whose synth-tinged rock instrumentals hearken back to ’80s power ballads that will have you feeling like an action hero. The show starts at 8 p.m. on Oct. 3 at the Anthem, 901 Wharf St. SW. $45–$75. —Dave Nyczepir

Maxwell at Capital One Arena on Oct. 4

In the mid-’90s, Maxwell led the neo-soul charge with his debut, Urban Hang Suite. Nearly 30 years later, the hang continues. This fall, Maxwell headlines the Serenade Tour, his first in two years following 2022’s sold-out 25-date international arena run. The show starts at 7:30 p.m. on Oct. 4  at Capital One Arena, 601 F St. NW. $69.50–$79.50. —Christina Smart

Marcos Valle at the Howard Theatre on Oct. 5

Marcos Valle was a baby-faced composer when he made his 1964 debut. Since then, he’s written some of the most timeless bossa nova standards such as “Summer Samba” and “Crickets Sing for Anamaria.” Now 80, Valle has never stopped performing and growing, and his 2019 album, Sempre, is among his best. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Howard Theatre, 620 T St. NW. $35–$50. —Pat Padua

SEB at Songbyrd on Oct. 5

Singles like “seaside_demo” and “last great american summer” might be the breezy mix of acoustics and bongos that got SEB noticed, but his wide-ranging style incorporates elements of P-pop, hip-hop, and proto-funk, among other genres. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Songbyrd, 540 Penn St. NE. $18–$20. —Dave Nyczepir

La Luz at the Atlantis on Oct. 6

Ever wish you lived inside a Quentin Tarantino-esque film about 1970s Los Angeles? This surf noir band should be your soundtrack. The show starts at 7 p.m. at the Atlantis, 2047 9th St. NW. $25. —Brandon Wetherbee 

Mass of the Fermenting Dregs at the Howard Theatre on Oct. 9

This Japanese three-piece is shoegazey and proggy, power poppy and lo-fi bedroom poppy, and more styles of music that make them difficult to categorize in the best possible way. If you’re on the fence about the live show, listen to their recently released live album and you’ll be sold. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Howard Theatre, 620 T St. NW. $20–$40. —Brandon Wetherbee

The Lemon Twigs at the Atlantis on Oct. 10

The easiest way to describe the Lemon Twigs to someone who has never heard their music is the Beatles meet the Beach Boys (or at least that’s how they were described to me before the owner of 48 Record Bar in Philadelphia put on their vinyl Everything Harmony). That’s a rather reductive explanation though, as the D’Addario brothers are two of the most creative, meticulous songwriters in progressive pop right now, which has me hoping their Merseybeat revival catches on. The show starts at 6:30 p.m. at the Atlantis, 2047 9th St. NW. $25. —Dave Nyczepir

Empress Of at Union Stage on Oct. 10

Honduran American singer Empress Of’s latest album, For Your Consideration, is all about dichotomies: English and Spanish, romantic and transactional, throwback pop and experimental dance. She’s comfortable in all of them. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Union Stage, 740 Water St. SW. $25–$40. —Dave Nyczepir

illuminati hotties at the Black Cat on Oct. 19

Sarah Tudzin’s indie-rock project first wormed its way into my ears and heart with their sad and slow cover of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.” Since then, illuminati hotties have fallen on and off my radar, but their latest album, Power, is an indie bop with staying power. Parts of it are reminiscent of Tegan and Sara’s Heartthrob album—the one where they got polished and started writing dance-esque tracks. But other parts of Power wash over you in a wave with its emotional tracks of stripped-down guitar and Tudzin’s haunting voice. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $20–$25. —Sarah Marloff

Aoife O’Donovan and Bonny Light Horseman at the Kennedy Center on Oct. 22

Continuing along the fall folk road, contemporary troubadour supergroup Bonny Light Horseman are teaming up with singer-songwriter Aoife O’Donovan for a one-night-only performance in the Kennedy Center concert hall, with support from the National Symphony Orchestra. This show is the band’s lone East Coast stop before heading to Europe on a tour supporting their excellent new album, Keep Me on Your Mind/See You Free. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Kennedy Center, 2700 F St. NW. kennedy-center.org. $29–$79. —Amelia Roth-Dishy

Daphne Eckman at Pearl Street Warehouse on Oct. 24

The quickest way for me to explain why you should check out Daphne Eckman’s “sad girl indie rock” is this: I saw her perform in a forgettable restaurant on Kent Island over a year ago and her gorgeous voice and indie vibe left such an impact I tracked her down on Instagram and have been a fan ever since. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Pearl Street Warehouse, 33 Pearl St. SW. $15–$35. —Sarah Marloff

Hinds at Union Stage on Oct. 26 

This fascinating (and fun) indie pop project by Carlotta Cosials and Ana Perrote started as a duo, became a quartet, and in late 2022, reverted back to a duo. The loss of their drummer and bassist happened in a time of upheaval; Hinds recently split from their label and their management as well. Clearly the Madrid-based band are familiar with traversing change and their newest album, Viva Hinds, out Sept. 6, reflects their recent journey. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Union Stage, 740 Water St. SW. $25. —Serena Zets

Cyndi Lauper at Capital One Arena on Oct. 27

Hard to believe it’s been more than 40 years since Cyndi Lauper knocked the pop world on its ear with the release of her debut album, She’s So Unusual. This is your last chance to see Lauper live, because the girl who just wanted to have fun is retiring from the road. The show starts at 8 p.m. at Capital One Arena, 601 F St. NW. $59.50–$479. —Christina Smart

The Go! Team at the Black Cat on Nov. 3

Sure, this is a nostalgia tour focused on the band’s 2002 debut, Thunder, Lightning, Strike, but when was the last time you listened to “Ladyflash” or “Everyone’s a VIP to Someone”? These are earworms that will still get you moving. The show starts at 7:30 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St. NW. $25–$30. —Brandon Wetherbee

NewDad at the Atlantis on Nov. 6

I’ve been waiting with bated breath for this foursome from Northern Ireland to tour the U.S. By far one of my favorite indie bands to emerge in the past few years, NewDad make the kind of sad, gauzy, dream-pop you can get lost in—it’s no wonder NME compared them to the Cure. With its sludgy guitar, their first full-length, Madra, dropped in January and remains one of the best albums of the year. The show starts at 6:30 p.m. at the Atlantis, 2047 9th St. NW. $15. —Sarah Marloff  

FEVER 333 at Union Stage on Nov. 7

The new-look FEVER 333 rounded out their talent with the additions of drummer Thomas Pridgen, who has toured with the Mars Volta and Thundercat, bassist April Kae, whose Instagram cover of Cardi B’s “Up” went viral in 2021, and guitarist Brandon Davis. Expect frontperson Jason Aalon Butler to keep the anti-racist, anti-fascist rapcore band grounded, even as they venture deeper into frenetic protest punk waters with tracks like “$wing.” The show starts at 7:30 p.m. at Union Stage, 740 Water St. SW. $25–$125. —Dave Nyczepir

André 3000 at the Kennedy Center on Nov. 9

André 3000 still raps, including on Killer Mike’s MICHAEL, released in 2023. He’s just not rapping on his own albums. With his solo debut, 2023’s New Blue Sun, André made a jazz album, and traded his vocals for a flute (or several flutes). Now hundreds of thousands of André, OutKast, and hip-hop fans are expanding their sonic horizons. With this show, the rapper-turned-jazz musician will make his Kennedy Center debut. The show starts at 7:30 p.m. at the Kennedy Center, 2700 F St. NW. $90.85–$310. —Brandon Wetherbee

Rare Essence & the Junkyard Band at the Howard Theatre on Nov. 10

Two of D.C.’s most acclaimed go-go bands come together over Veterans Day Weekend to celebrate the 114th Anniversary of the Howard Theatre. The show starts at 10 p.m. at the Howard Theatre, 620 T St. NW. $45–$85. —Sarah Marloff

Ratboys and Palehound at the Atlantis on Nov. 12

If you asked me to build this fall’s most exciting bill from scratch, it wouldn’t take me long to come up with the acts behind two of 2023’s finest albums: The Window by Ratboys and Eye on the Bat by Palehound. With one ticket, you get peak indie alt-country and some of the cleverest singer-songwriter work of recent memory in an intimate setting. It’s no wonder it sold out. The show starts at 6:30 p.m. at the Atlantis, 2047 9th St. NW. Sold out. —Taylor Ruckle

Haley Heynderickx at the 9:30 Club on Nov. 16

The folksy and ever-observant indie darling Haley Heynderickx is in the running for the artist I’ve seen live the most—and for good reason. She puts on a killer show no matter the venue. I’ve seen her perform in a chapel, in front of a dewy, empty field during the noon slot of a music festival, at Miracle Theatre, and the Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage. Despite how grand (and different) each of these venues were, I don’t think anything will beat seeing her in my favorite D.C. venue this November. The show starts at 6 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $25. —Serena Zets

Lupe Fiasco at the Howard Theatre on Nov. 16

Stalwart Chicago rapper Lupe Fiasco has already released one of the year’s best hip-hop records. Samurai is clad in choruses hard as armor and wields verses like shining steel blades. With an understated, jazzy aesthetic and a 30-minute run time, it’s the most succinct artistic statement of his 24-year career. Oh, and it’s also a narrative concept album about Amy Winehouse reimagined as a battle rapper. The show starts at 8 p.m. at the Howard Theatre, 620 T St. NW. $45–$85. —Taylor Ruckle

Godspeed You! Black Emperor at the 9:30 Club on Nov. 19

The elders of instrumental post-rock are back with their new album and a tour to support it. As always, their shows promise to be beautiful and utterly hypnotic. The show starts at 7 p.m. at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $40. —Alan Zilberman

Sun June at DC9 on Nov. 20

This twangy indie band from Austin made one of the best albums of 2023, and when I saw them last year at this same venue, my “I think this might be love” ratcheted up to “I’m so in love.” If it was possible to wear out a record on Apple Music, I would’ve broken Bad Dream Jaguar with the number of times I flipped it over. The show starts at 8 p.m. at DC9, 1940 9th St. NW. $18–$22. —Sarah Marloff 

Mariah Carey at Capital One Arena on Dec. 1

If you’re a fan of whistle notes (and really, who isn’t?), the self-proclaimed Queen of Christmas, Mariah Carey, will start spreading holiday cheer early in the season with a performance at Capital One on Dec. 1. The show starts at 8 p.m. on Dec. 1 at Capital One Arena, 601 F St. NW. $59.95–$580. —Christina Smart

Micky Dolenz at the Birchmere on Dec. 12

Cheer up, sleepy Jean. The last surviving Monkee, Micky Dolenz, is touring. With Songs & Stories, Dolenz will reminisce and sing about life as a member of the Prefab Four. The show starts at 7:30 p.m. at the Birchmere, 3701 Mount Vernon Ave., Alexandria. $75. —Christina Smart

Check out more of our 2024 Fall Arts Guide here.

What defines D.C.? Is it the museums? The monuments? The Metro? Talking with City Paper over Zoom, local band Bacchae offer a less obvious and less auspicious answer.

“D.C. has one of the worst rat problems in the country,” says singer and keyboardist Katie McD. “Part of our experience of being from D.C. is that everybody’s had a rat run across their feet at some point when they’ve been taking out the trash or walking somewhere at night.” 

City Paper has been covering the issue for more than 20 years. In 2023, pest control company Orkin crowned D.C. the fourth most rat-infested city in the United States (only one rank below New York). But on one song from Bacchae’s forthcoming album, Next Time, the band take the rodents’ perspective. Their smirking dance-punk sing-along, “Just a Rat,” is dedicated to the idea that there’s nothing wrong with being vermin.

“We seek out midnight chaos/ We squeeze in hidden spaces/ Your laws can never change us/ We are poison,” McD chants in one verse. 

The song turns the plight of the rat into a potent metaphor for life on the margins of a human society that wants to exterminate you but can’t. It resonates with the dehumanization at work as legislators consider bills to strip rights from trans people across the country, and as officials force unhoused people out of encampments in D.C. Any way you read it, the highly shoutable one-line chorus “I am just a rat” comes out like an affirmation and a taunting threat.

“I don’t know exactly why we’ve been attracted to that kind of imagery, but there’s something fun about rats existing below the surface of the city, feeding on what other people leave behind, creeping in the cracks and corners,” says guitarist Andrew Breiner. “Maybe there’s something we identify with.”

Bacchae have been creeping in the shadows of the D.C. music scene since 2016. Three of the members—McD, Breiner, and drummer Eileen O’Grady—started playing music together as part of a friend’s Capital Fringe Festival show. Singer and bassist Rena Hagins joined after meeting Briener through Hat Band DC. Together, they settled into a strident post-punk sound reminiscent of Priests with a melodic sensibility and workaday charm they share with another local act, Bad Moves (who released their own celebration of Bacchae’s favored four-legged friends this April).

“We didn’t start out very polished, or, you know, ready at all,” says Breiner. “We’ve grown very publicly in the recordings we’ve released since then.”

Still, Bacchae’s scrappy early work got the attention of the queer artist-run independent label Get Better Records. After corresponding online and meeting the label’s founder, Alex Lichtenauer, at a D.C. house show, Bacchae released their self-titled EP through Get Better in 2018. The cassette edition was the first physical release that the band didn’t have to print with their own tape duplicator—or try to print, as the case often was with their self-released first album, Down the Drain. “Some of the tapes we duplicated may have been blank, so if you ever got a [blank Down the Drain] tape from us … we owe you a tape,” says Hagins, laughing. “Sorry.”

Technical difficulties aside, the early years shaped Bacchae’s current artistic identity. Before they settled on the illustrated lemon cross-section that adorns the cover of 2018’s EP, they considered an alternate design McD drew on a Post-it Note: a lemon, but with rats tearing into it. “Katie was like, ‘Well, one day I wanna do something with rats eating trash and being real dirty and gross,’” Hagins says. The concept went on to inspire merch, which, in part, inspired “Just a Rat.”

Scheduled to be released on July 5, Next Time finds Bacchae continuing to grow. It’s the band’s second album featuring the engineering and mixing talents of D.C. punk lifer J. Robbins, frontperson of Jawbox and producer for bands like Jawbreaker, the Dismemberment Plan, and Against Me! Songs such as the frantic, stop-and-start “Drop Dead Gorgeous” and the melancholy “New Jersey” build on Bacchae’s talents for sharp-toothed social commentary and reflective pop hook writing, respectively. But the new record also bears the weight of the four years since their second LP, Pleasure Vision, came out in March of 2020. As the title implies, Next Time is full of grief for the literal time the band lost to the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I think we’ve all been going through it, and I think sometimes making the songs on the record was an outlet, and sometimes it seemed to exacerbate the spiraling,” says O’Grady about the band’s past four years. 

In the “hot and dusty” basement of the house Breiner and O’Grady share in Shaw, Bacchae spent the worst of the pandemic years sweating their way through writing sessions for the songs, which tackle many of the same day-to-day struggles that inspired the band’s previous work—struggles amplified by COVID. On the title track, it’s a face-off with anxiety. On the lead single, “Cooler Talk,” it’s the recurring grind of clocking in at work just to be exploited. Even past the peak of the pandemic, work has been a particularly sharp thorn in Bacchae’s side as their individual schedules, time-off allowances, and transitions to new jobs frustratingly impacted their ability to tour.

“I’m grateful to have income that’s not from music, because that’s even tougher,” says Breiner. “Obviously, some people are getting paid in the music industry, but they’re not musicians, for the most part.”

That’s true even in D.C., a city with a reputation—among its other, rattier distinctions—for caring about music. Creating art is not viable as a full-time source of income for most artists, and even where there is money, it often comes without the health insurance and benefits that other more typical careers provide. The band points to the DC Area Music Census, an initiative of the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities, as one reason to be optimistic. The anonymous survey aims to gather information to inform future policy decisions in support of the music community.

“But for the record,” McD cuts in, “nobody should have to have a job, you know?”

Take it from the toothy crunch of guitar and the scurry of hi-hat cymbals on “Just a Rat” and the rest of Next Time. Bacchae’s music speaks to the inherent value and dignity of all creatures, regardless of occupation—or number of legs.

“Nobody gets paid to exist. Since we are in this world, and we didn’t plan to be here, we have to just make ends meet and scrape by,” says Hagins. “Like rats.”

Next Time is available on July 5 via Get Better Records. Bacchae’s album release show starts at 8 p.m. on Aug. 9 at Songbyrd Music House.

“I can see you shifting in your seat,” says Jael Holzman of Ekko Astral on the spoken intro to “head empty blues,” as synth tones shudder around her. The first words on the D.C. noise punk band’s debut album, pink balloons, are also the first words of Ari Drennen’s poem “Out at Dinner.” As Holzman explains, the poem describes the awkward urgency of a casual conversation turned uncomfortably real.

“It’s when someone goes, ‘You know, I’m pretty sure the whole time we’ve been having dinner, at least 60 Palestinian children died,’” she says. “And everyone goes, ‘Why did you fuckin’ bring that up?’”

We’re not exactly out at dinner when she says it, but the point lands; pink balloons was written by and for people who aren’t afraid of a challenging conversation. On an overcast International Women’s Day, we’re enjoying chips, guacamole, and margaritas at a local taco shop—one stop on an hours-long walk up and down 14th Street NW, during which Holzman and rhythm guitarist Sam Elmore unpack the band’s vision for the new album. Like all music, it strikes at your inner ear, but Ekko Astral aren’t content with just your cochlea; they take aim at your center of balance too, as the spooky synths give way to gut-rumbling drums and distorted bass.

“[For me] the goal was always to try and sonically nail the anxiety so many people feel, and lean into that … so there can be a release,” says Holzman.

Ekko Astral have been after that goal from the beginning—it’s something the band wanted to accomplish on their 2022 debut EP, Quartz (a concept record about Holzman’s experience coming out as transgender and starting to transition). It’s also not so different from what Holzman pursues in her other career. Though she grew up in Rockville, she studied English at the University of Vermont, where she met Ekko Astral’s lead guitarist Liam Hughes and discovered a passion for investigative journalism. Now a climate and energy reporter, as well as a punk singer, she sees music and journalism as different means to the same end.

“It’s about finding innovative ways to connect with people and give them new light into the way the world has always been, but they weren’t aware of,” she says. “I actually think music is better than journalism at doing that, nowadays.”

In the making of pink balloons, the members of Ekko Astral—Holzman, Elmore, and Hughes, along with bassist Guinevere Tully and drummer Miri Tyler (who also plays in Pretty Bitter)—centered that belief in the efficacy of music for connecting with people. Working with producer Jeremy Snyder at Fidelitorium Recordings in Kernersville, North Carolina, the band estimate they spent as much time talking about the world as they did laying down the tracks. It was March of 2023, and at the time, Holzman says, she was watching from her position as a media-addicted journalist as anti-trans sentiment and legislation continued to proliferate. Pundits and social media posters often call it culture war. When I parrot the phrase, Holzman corrects me.

“‘Culture war’ is a terrible thing to call a fight over medication,” she says. “People in the press would be wise to talk about the fact that trans people who no longer organically produce hormones will die if they are not able to access HRT. When people were trying to repeal the Affordable Care Act aggressively, no one called it a culture war.”

Crucially, though, pink balloons’ most direct reference to medicine doesn’t concern hormones. The discordant spoken-word piece “somewhere at the bottom of the river between l’enfant and eastern market” features the most harrowing lines from Drennen’s poem, but it also samples a recorded conversation with Holzman’s late grandfather about the medications he relied on as he got older.

“I need medication to stay alive,” Holzman explains. “So did my grandfather. People will hear ‘culture war’ or ‘trans rights,’ but the actual truth of it is lost because they either haven’t been exposed to someone who’s trans, or they haven’t been exposed to the medical facts.”

That gets at one way pink balloons expands on its predecessor; it’s not just the higher volume of jokes, puns, and references that populate the lyrics, and it’s not just the way Holzman amps up the vocal intensity. Where Quartz was an album with a singular focus, the new record points to the interconnectedness of its subjects—in pummeling art rock songs that weave together feminism (“head empty blues”), missing and murdered Indigenous people (“devorah”), and the profitability of human suffering (“on brand”).

Not coincidentally, pink balloons also reads as more of a D.C. record, and not just because of song titles that include “burning alive on k street.” Holzman and Elmore call it a case of writing what they know, as a band acquainted with the specific anxiety of living and working in the city they call the “imperial core.” As in all things, Holzman is quick to qualify their relationship to the culture of the capital.

“We’re not responding to this,” she says. “We’re conveying how it feels to exist within it. Part of the reason political music sucks so much is so many ostensibly political songs will just tell people an idea, like, ‘Feel this way!’ Never works. Don’t tell people how to feel—tell people how it feels.”

Holzman takes the same stance against dogma in defining her artistic influences. Along with pillars of post-punk such as Idles, she cites genre-transcending acts like Kendrick Lamar and Ethel Cain. Avoiding the pitfalls of didactic punk music is one thing, but Holzman goes further, calling herself apolitical as an artist and journalist alike.

“I spend my day getting to know people across political spectrums,” she says. “Some of the best friends I have in the world are Republicans. And how does that happen?”

I start shifting in my seat. How does that happen?

“That happens because people are people. We’ve become convinced that the internet is somehow reality, but like with music, when you experience someone’s humanity, you don’t see them as some stereotype. You meet them face to face, and you actually wind up in a situation that can forge strong bonds.”

Weeks later, on April 5 at Black Cat, Ekko Astral held a live album taping, and I saw those strong bonds firsthand in the mosh pit. The show reaches its emotional peak when the band transforms the closing lines of Drennen’s “Out at Dinner” into a surging refrain on the slowcore-inspired power ballad “i90”: “If you walk through a cemetery, you’ll pass/ People buried under gravestones of strangers/ I have friends still, hiding while you throw a parade.” Just as they envisioned, anxiety gives way to communal release as shoulders and elbows collide.

Ekko Astral have already generated a fair amount of hype—here at City Paper, and in outlets like Paste, where a feature name-checked the band as successors to Fugazi. USA Today even used “mascara moshpit,” their chosen genre tagline, as a crossword puzzle answer. The power of their live show and the ambition of pink balloons justify the fervor, but for the band, any outside attention just offers more opportunity to move their listeners to imagine a better future for everyone.

“Nobody can actually change somebody else, but you can create a space where they feel safe to start to change themselves,” says Elmore. “Through putting on a safe show that has a community environment where we’re able to explore certain ideas, or feelings, or sounds … it can kinda crack you open.”

As a D.C. band, Holzman says, Ekko Astral feel responsible for having something worthwhile to say to their constituents. At the same time, she feels, when you can spin up a circle pit in a center of global influence, you’ve got a better shot than most at making a real difference.

“Culture is upstream from politics,” she says. “We as culture creators have an opportunity to actually be participants in crafting the culture that those people who run the world live within … and maybe, just maybe, make far more of a difference in the way the world works than someone who’s either out in the street or writing a frickin’ article.”

Ekko Astral’s debut album, pink balloons, is available via Topshelf Records on April 17. ekkoastral.bandcamp.com

Ekko Astral opens for Ted Leo And The Pharmacists on June 20 at 9:30 Club. 930.com. $25.

Daniel Noah Miller: Disintegration

Daniel Noah Miller, one half of the acclaimed experimental pop duo Lewis Del Mar, and a D.C. native, releases his debut solo album, Disintegration, on Feb. 16 via the FADER label. The inspiration for Disintegration is derived from Miller’s upbringing—split between Adams Morgan and Nicaragua—and his ongoing navigation of place, self, and identity. The album is a strong solo debut that makes clear Miller has learned a lot from his time in Lewis Del Mar, both creatively and professionally. The songwriting, instrumentation, and production are stellar in their execution, partially because it was co-written and co-produced with the seasoned Jack Hallenbeck, who’s worked with Haim, Maggie Rogers, and Girlpool. In “Opening Me,” he captures a heartbreaking honesty reminiscent of Rogers’ anthem “Say It,” also co-written by Hallenback. The album’s 11 soul-aching tracks are backed by ambient sounds inspired by growing up in two countries. Particular standouts include “You Never Fight on My Time ” and “Agnes.” Taken as a whole, the album shares similarities to Sufjan Stevens, another musician who thinks very critically about identity, place, and creating a distinct sonic experience. Miller’s overarching artistic vision is clear throughout Disintegration. He leans in to his experience of love, loss, and complicated identity to create songs that transcend specificities and speak to a widely experienced hollowness. Lewis Del Mar soundtracked my coming of age with their unique folksy soul-filled Latin approach to experimental music-making. Now, after listening to this album, I have an inkling the sounds of Miller will follow me through adulthood too. —Serena Zets

Pretty Bitter: “Roadkill” (Single)

Indie power-pop band Pretty Bitter always bring something new to the scene. On Feb. 2, they released “Roadkill,” their first single in more than a year. Their previous release, “What I Want!” (Jan. 2023), felt like an expected follow-up to the band’s bop-worthy 2022 sophomore album, Hinges, with its echoing chorus and distorted guitars. But there’s a bit more speed to “Roadkill,” which gives the song a pop-punk edge—especially the driving strings and pounding drums opening. Over the course of 3 minutes and 39 seconds, the track plays with tempo (which starts off jarringly and but grows on you) and vocals, sometimes dueting Em Bleker and Miri Tyler, sometimes spotlighting Bleker’s lower, almost-spoken lyrics before rising into a chorus that—typical of Pretty Bitter—makes you want to sing along and dance. Pretty Bitter’s single release show with Massie and Grlztoy starts at 7 p.m. on Feb. 17 at Union Stage. $15–$18. —Sarah Marloff

J. Robbins: Basilisk

It’s no surprise that the rise of D.C. punk in the ’70s and ’80s coincided with the ascent of Ronald Reagan Republicanism and the Moral Majority. The country was coming out of a divisive war, there were multiple crises in the Middle East, and high inflation at home. Sound familiar? As the scene progressed musically into the late ’80s, post-hardcore bands such as Girls Against Boys and Jawbox emerged, carrying the flag of urgency while also adding more to the music than the standard three-chords-and-a-dream of some of their predecessors. It’s been almost five years since Jawbox’s singer and guitarist J. Robbins put out a solo album, but with the release of his excellent new LP, Basilisk (available via Dischord Records), the result has been well worth the wait. To call this a solid album is an understatement. Right now—and yes, it is an early entry but I’m calling it now—Basilisk is one of the best rock albums of 2024. Musically, it’s borderline all-encompassing. The added instrumentation, beyond your standard rock outfit, swings from cellos to synths. Want some pedal steel? You’ll find it on “Not the End.” How about a kick-ass guitar solo? There’s a blistering one (courtesy of John Haggerty) on “Exquisite Corpse.” But Robbins’ strongest talent is his ability to write well-constructed, hook-filled melodies while maintaining enough punk energy to make the listener want to put on a pair of Docs and kick in the nearest window. And what is there to rebel against these days? To quote Marlon Brando in The Wild One, “Whaddya got?” The track “Automaticity” deals with aging while “Last War” and “Dead Eyed God” address the rise of authoritarianism and the Jan. 6 insurrection. If anything, Basilisk proves that old punks never die, especially when there’s still so much to rebel against. J. Robbins plays at 10 p.m. on Feb. 24 at Comet Ping Pong. —Christina Smart

Jane O’Neill: Jane O’Neill EP

The distinctive pops and crackles of a vintage record open D.C.-based singer-songwriter Jane O’Neill’s self-titled, four-song EP, establishing her sepia-hued odes to loves lost, found, and forever. Recorded live with a full band at Lovegrove Studios in New York City, the sense of intimacy is evident throughout this album, a quietly confident Americana EP,  co-produced by Sam Roller and Van Isaacson (who also plays bass on the EP). The opener, “Written on Our End,” looks back on a lost first love, and crescendos into Kai Barshack’s heavy drums with O’Neill wailing about the past, before the realization that there is no going back (and maybe it’s better that way). “Whistlepig” is a moonshine-soaked, swampy track, full of bayou blues and country crooning, from Crosby Cofod’s plucky guitar that nods at Tracy Chapman’s “Give Me One Reason” to the soft scatter of brushes across the snares. It’s full of the familiar tropes of the genre: whiskey drinking, a loyal hound dog, and a car that only has one CD: Garth Brooks. But in the heteronormative country canon, this decidedly queer take offers a new spin. “I found somebody new/ But she sure as hell ain’t you,” O’Neill belts out in a scratchy, smoky alto about a messy but sexy ex. O’Neill sings of the sacred bond between friends on “Holy Love,” where she shows off her vocal range over the whining glissando of a slide guitar. “We got something right/ We’re gonna make it out alive,” she trills before listing the small pleasures and miracles of friendship. On the dreamy closer, “Disguise,” about finding in yourself your own knight in shining armor, Cofod’s folksy fiddling offers warmth and depth to the slower tune. “I don’t know why I listen to this album anymore…” O’Neill sings on the first track, but this is an EP you will want to return to again and again. Her self-titled EP is available to stream on her website janeoneillmusic.com. Jane O’Neill performs with Brittany Ann Trabaugh at 8 p.m. on Feb. 29 at Pearl Street Warehouse. —Colleen Kennedy

NAYAN: Rock N Roll Ruined My Life

Nayan Bhula has long been part of the D.C. music scene and now he’s here to tell you how rock ’n’ roll ruined his life. His groups have traversed the city’s venues, genres, and audience, creating a sound that is distinctly his own. First, he started the postpunk band GIST, then the eight-piece indie folk-rock group the NRIs, who released music for a decade. At the end of 2021, Bhula decided, according to his bio, it was time to lean in to the fusion-driven style he’s honed as the only local “South African/Indian/
Canadian/American rock musician” and launch NAYAN, which honors each of these cultural influences and draws from his favorite genres: classic rock, ’80s new wave, and D.C. punk. NAYAN’s debut album, Rock N Roll Ruined My Life, will be released on Feb. 29 via the band’s own imprint Red Stapler Records RSR028. Opening with the defiant track “Invincible,” the stage is set with an empowered, harmonious tone. It’s a powerful introduction to the band, but the standout track is “Alone,” featuring Laura Stevenson, which also serves as the lead single. Stevenson’s vocals are a delightful surprise as she and Bhula harmonize. There’s an undercurrent of resilience to the album as a whole, be it the music industry or a former lover. The closing track, “Blinded,” is particularly triumphant at almost seven minutes long, giving the band time to do a proper, collaborative send-off to the album. In addition to Bhula, NAYAN include Gabriel Fry, Mike Nilsson, Eddie Fuentes, and Andrew Gabor, all longtime local musicians. It’s always a treat to hear a debut album by a group made of experienced musicians bringing their talents together to create something new. The overall project feels so ambitious and its influences are too vast that it shouldn’t work, but somehow the band excels at its goal by working together. NAYAN’s record release party with Outerloop starts at 8 p.m. on Feb. 29 at Pie Shop. —S.Z.

Mary Timony: Untame the Tiger

Many albums deal with loss through grim lyrics and somber melodies. Mary Timony’s first solo album in 15 years takes a more complex approach, navigating back and forth between heavy and light moments with an expertise honed through decades of artistry. A leading player in D.C.’s music scene since her first band Autoclave released its debut album on Dischord in 1991, Timony wrote Untame the Tiger (out Feb. 23) while coping with a serious breakup and caring for her dying parents. She works through these experiences using solemn reflection and humor, flexing her muscles as a lyricist while cementing her place as a top guitarist of her generation. Timony’s skill set shines through from the album’s opening track and takes on new life in the second—“Summer” incorporates two simultaneous guitar solos, a technique borrowed from Gerry Rafferty’s first solo album. Rafferty is not her only old-school influence; the ’60s and ’70s seep into her album throughout, from folky guitar melodies to resounding rock power chords.

Timony is just as successful, however, when she conjures her own origins. There is something distinctly ’90s about a song that is gritty and upbeat at the same time. Untame the Tiger’s third track, “Dominoes,” achieves this balance with a relishingly catchy vocal melody over a robust guitar chord progression. It makes for a perfect road trip soundtrack, bolstered further by the contemplative lyrics. Timony’s lyrics particularly shine through on more subdued tracks. “The Guest” personifies a lamentably universal emotion, likening loneliness to a serial, unwanted visitor. Timony drives the song home with a guitar hook both simple and complicated—a relatively short, meandering line repeated over a course of unpredictable key changes. Throughout Untame the Tiger, Timony shifts between major and minor keys, as though she can’t decide between an optimistic or defeatest response to hardship. Untame the Tiger’s titular track opens with a long, Pink Floyd-style instrumental intro before ascending into a drug-like ecstasy. Lyrics like “Wanna go where your animal runs free/ I hear it call my name” will speak to anyone with a penchant for self-destructive yet exciting relationships. Timony brings the energy back down on the following and final track, “Not the Only One.” Lyrically, the song is the album’s most abstract. In an LP fit for a road trip, the song invites us to a countryside destination where we can rework Timony’s train of thought into our own personal introspection. Mary Timony, with opener Birthday Girl, plays at 7:30 p.m. on March 14 at the Black Cat.  —Dora Segall

Glitterer: Rationale

Rationale sounds like starting over from scratch. Out Feb. 23 via ANTI- Records, it’s the latest full-length record from D.C. indie rock project Glitterer, and the first to feature a full band lineup. Originally the solo outlet of Title Fight bassist Ned Russin, Glitterer found a stylistic sweet spot on the 2021 LP, Life Is Not a Lesson, buoyed by Russin’s rough, hardcore-honed vocals, lightheaded synths, and cloudbursts of guitar distortion. Contrast that with the second single from Rationale, called “Just a Place,” with its slow, acoustic power-pop jangle. Most of the record is far noisier, but “Just a Place” encapsulates the spirit of Rationale, as Russin’s lyrics reflect on a life spent moving from city to city—the poignant nostalgia and sense of dislocation associated with his idea of home. This is, likewise, a transitional record, and for all its promising highlights, it also dilutes the elements that made Glitterer so exciting in the past.

A few quiet intros crash into louder verses and choruses (as on “Can’t Feel Anything”), but in managing more crowded arrangements—with keyboard player Nicole Dao, drummer Jonas Farah, and guitarist Connor Morin in tow—Rationale misses the vital dynamism of Life Is Not a Lesson, where every track was packed with sharp-edged surprises. Lo-fi synth solos and ripping guitars seemed to materialize from thin air. Here, the songs are much flatter and more conventional, with guitar, bass, and drums holding steady in their designated lanes. The tunes, like “Certainty,” are as short and melodic as anything from Glitterer’s back catalog, but the textures—like that song’s keyboard part—tend to hide in the smoother mix. That’s what makes lead single “Plastic” such a thrill; with its power chord riff and precision synth strike, it’s one place where the new lineup’s individual players stick out and shine. (Other standouts include “No One There.”)

While the old Glitterer found a singular twist on the formulas of solo-made bedroom pop—which, for Russin, seemed to mean harnessing all the joyous, heterogenous noise you can make when you’re alone in your room with the door locked, your amps and toy keyboards cranked all the way up—the new Glitterer sound like a band of roommates still politely feeling out the boundaries of their living situation. The place looks great, and everyone’s got their rooms picked out. All that’s left is to make the space their own. Rationale is out on Feb. 23. Glitterer’s album release show starts at 8 p.m. on March 30 at Songbyrd Music House. Sold out. —Taylor Ruckle

Welcome to 2024. Here at City Paper’s arts desk, we’re kicking the year and new local album reviews off with our inaugural Beats Me. Each month, City Paper music writers will dig through upcoming releases from D.C.-area bands, singers, rappers, and musical acts to bring you our take on what’s happening in the local sound and scene. It’s January, and I can safely say, the new year brings a ton of new music from a ton of local artists. —Sarah Marloff

Teen Mortgage, Teen Mortgage

From the depths of January rises an explosive burst of heavy punk from District-based Teen Mortgage. The pairing of vocalist-guitarist James Guile and drummer Ed Barakauskas has left a mark on the local music since the band released their first EP in 2019 through King Pizza Records. Teen Mortgage have shared bills with acts such as Alkaline Trio and, later this year, will tour the United Kingdom and Ireland with Smashing Pumpkins and Weezer. Despite their rapid success, the duo’s self-titled LP out this month is their first full-length album. Pieced together from preexisting recordings and a couple of new tracks, the project offers a surprisingly cohesive look at the duo’s work so far. In many ways, Teen Mortgage harkens back to punk’s heyday in D.C., when Dischord was novel and groups like Fugazi dominated the national stage. From its first track, the LP demands your attention: Guitar (including lines filtered to sound like bass) and drums screech in and out of mesmerizing, distortion-heavy bursts. The tempo is mosh-ready and fast-paced—at times so much so that Guile’s vocals are difficult to make out. The lyrics rework typical punk themes: capitalism, political corruption, and—in-line with the title—mortality. “Tuning In” explores this subject matter most impressively, tackling media polarization in snarling lines like “Media give you news where it’s side against side/ Broadcast a place to do all your hating.”

What really sets Teen Mortgage apart, however, is their instrumentation. Guile’s frenzied guitar riffs and Barakauskas’ roaring drum lines collide and divide in captivatingly unpredictable assortments of rhythm and melody. “S.W.A.S.” puts guitars in conversation with one another with harmonies neither dissonant nor melodious. “Sick Day” swells and contracts into heavy rages. The band favor sparse intros, fiery verses, and choruses and even fierier interludes. There are parallels to Turnstile, to King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. Guile and Barakauskas play with negative space, pausing between dense musical phrases like they need to gasp for breath before continuing their tirade. Despite its patchwork construction, Teen Mortgage follow an identifiable arc, maintaining a frenetic feel before tapering off into an almost psychedelic pair of final songs, “Valley” and “Valley II.” The cool-down makes the high-energy tracks all the more sweet. Teen Mortgage’s album release party starts at 8 p.m. on Jan. 12 at Pie Shop. —Dora Segall 

Walk the Plank, Loathe 

Is it a hiatus when a pandemic shuts down the music industry? Is it a hiatus when there was no farewell show? Is it a hiatus when the new record was recorded before the hiatus? Does any of this matter? Maybe to some, but to the majority of music fans, good new music is good new music and Walk the Plank’s new EP, out Jan. 12, is quite good. 

The hardcore band’s four-year hiatus ends this month with the release of Loathe. The 1” EP opens with a galloping guitar on “Anti-Social Media” that’ll make any thrash fan happy. Singer Ian Crocker’s growl isn’t so growly that the lyrics are indecipherable. And the lyrics are worth noticing. “It’s time to learn to read a book, or at least learn to read a book” should put a smile on your face. The track’s bridge may be a bit of a nod to Ministry’s “NWO.” The guitar lines shimmer and shine between more classic riffage. It’s a great opening. The title track and “Boredom” continue with the same successful formula as “Anti-Social Media.” “Dugout” clocks in at only 100 seconds but doesn’t feel rushed or cut short. “Good Guy With a Gun?” could be a modern day Green Day song if it wasn’t sung with a growl. That’s not a bad thing. The best songs bookend the record, “Anti-Social Media” and “Closure.” Both have classic hardcore elements with a nod toward the now. The chuga-chuga riffs are present but so is some studio experimentation. They’re lyrically tinged with positivity and anger, giving people something to scream about and something to rally against. It’s Fucked Up meets Youth of Today.

Ben Green’s production is fantastic. He gives the record a radio-friendly quality, reminiscent of mid-’00s Rise Against. Walk the Plank may not be going for those brass rings, but these six songs show they could at least hang with the hardest of the hardcore and the shiniest, poppiest guitar bands. It’s only January, but don’t be surprised if this makes it on to some year-end best of lists. This is what you want in hardcore and D.C. punk. Maybe the hiatus does matter in a live setting. Their first show in four years will be their record release show. Walk the Plank’s album release party starts at 8 p.m. on Jan. 13 at Atlas Brew Works. —Brandon Wetherbee

Flowerbomb, Gloom Scroll Vol. 1

It’s no wonder that Flowerbomb won their first Wammie in 2021 for their debut album, Pretty Dark. The nine-track LP is lush with indie rock gems. In the time since that win, the quartet took home another Wammie in April, this time for Best Rock Group, and released a handful of singles last fall, including “Do It Again” and “I Don’t Wanna.” Now those two tracks have found themselves a home on Gloom Scroll Vol. 1, the band’s four-song EP that drops Jan. 19. With lyrics from lead singer Rachel Kline and music written by Kline and her bandmates, guitarist Connor White, bassist Abby Rasheed, and drummer Dan ABH (who also handled the album’s production), Gloom Scroll Vol. 1 is a fitting follow-up to their debut, easily sliding into the band’s indie shoegaze catalog while still feeling fresh. The two previously released singles open and close the EP, and in some ways they saved the best for last, choosing to end on “I Don’t Wanna.” The track is layered, taking listeners on a journey from a slow opening to a melodic second verse that slides into a catchy chorus offering a distinct blend of indie rock and dream pop. Kline’s voice is alternatingly husky and sing-along smooth, while the instruments create a lavish sonic landscape ripe with emotion. It’s a stunner of a song that gets better when you leave it on repeat.

The two previously unheard tracks, “Bruise” and “1998,” play a little less with pop. Instead, both songs lean in to Flowerbomb’s rock roots with driving guitar and steady drum beats. “Bruise” adds a bit of ethereal synth to round out the two-and-a-half-minute track. But it’s the aptly titled “1998” that demonstrates Flowerbomb’s ’90s alt-rock influences. The slight twang on the guitar at the turning point of the chorus—“’98 feels so strange”—has a vibe reminiscent of early Sheryl Crow. But the rest of the song—from Kline’s style of singing to the propelling beat and fuzzy, slightly distorted strings—recalls ’90s misfits the Breeders. Listening to it is a bit like traveling back in time to where alternative began. And like the Breeders, Gloom Scroll Vol. 1 is just plain fun to listen to despite the heaviness of the lyrics. It’s a great pair: like a beer and shot combo. Flowerbomb’s EP release party with Cherub Tree starts at 8 p.m. on Jan. 19 at Pie Shop. —SM

Mystery Friends, Utopia

A new chapter began when Mystery Friends began recording Utopia at the end of the COVID lockdown. The group has survived a rotation of members, with lead singer Abby Sevcik and synth-player/guitarist Dave Mohl standing as band’s only constants. To create their second LP, the two teamed up with additional guitarist Jay Nemeyer and producer-engineer Kyle Downes. The result is a synth-pop narrative brimming with funky bass lines and ’80s-esque melodic hooks, a more varied continuation of their previous dance music. The concept album follows a love affair from start to finish. Utopia bears notes of disco, new wave, and even ambient. The first track, “match,” is a euphoric love song complete with a saxophone solo, while “fever dream” glistens with electronic beats and CHVRCHES-reminiscent synth lines. A vibraslap and other quirky instruments make guest appearances. “Seratonin” gives off a summery feel that falls somewhere between shopping at PacSun and dancing in a club.

The album is a sparkler, but as the love affair sours, the music slows and darkens. Sevcik’s vocals take on an ominous edge as they shift into minor keys during “utopia.” “It feels too good to be true,” she sings. The opening line of the penultimate track, “I’ve been pretty tired” hits viscerally overtop a simple, atmospheric melody. “Apartment,” the album’s closer, is one of its strongest songs and certainly its most stunning. Muted and awash with reverb, it sounds almost underwater. Sevcik accents the repeated line “you still haven’t changed” with a unique and electrifying harmony. A crisp electronic beat balances out the fluidity of the music. The track ends abruptly as the flame that is Utopia extinguishes, leaving the listener to process the rise and fall of the relationship. Mystery Friends have proven their ability to get a crowd moving, but Utopia shows that they can be moody, too. Hopefully, more tracks like “Apartment” will come as they continue to evolve. Mystery Friends’ album release party with Kinda Evil starts at 6:30 p.m. on Jan. 26 at the Atlantis. —D.S. 

Broke Royals, Big Dream

EPs are curious things. If done correctly, they can offer a glimpse of where the band is heading. If done incorrectly, they can land like a haphazard musical smorgasbord that leaves listeners scratching their collective heads. Big Dream, the new EP from D.C.’s Broke Royals, lands somewhere between the two. Their last album, Local Support, was a cohesive music statement produced by Bartees Strange. Big Dream was produced by the band and the lack of oversight from Strange, particularly when it comes to the songs’ arrangements, is quite apparent. With its driving-full-steam-ahead chorus, the opening track, “Big Dream,” plays like a lesser version of Arcade Fire’s “Month of May.” The song waits far too long to introduce the refrain (which lands with less than a minute left in the track). If introduced earlier, it would give a much-needed kick to the ear that has already settled into the unadorned melody of the verse and chorus. “One Look,” which borrows its opening from Foster the People’s “Pseudologia Fantastica,” showcases keyboardist Rebecca Basnight on vocals, but the arrangements—especially the basic chord progression that follows the melodic line on the chorus—doesn’t serve Basnight. Again, with less than a minute to go on the song, a compelling keyboard line is introduced that would serve the song much better if brought in earlier. “No Time For Love,” the song most similar to the material found on their last album, lands like a Jimmy Eat World B-side (right down to the “Oh, ohs”). The most interesting musical moment comes from “Toasted Almond.” With a Casio keyboard beat juxtaposed with an acoustic guitar, the song finds bassist Taimir Gore on lead vocals. Of the three vocalists featured on the EP (alongside lead vocalist Philip Basnight), Gore has a vocal tone that is the strongest and most distinct. It would serve the band well to use his cords much more in the future. If “Toasted Almond” is a sign of what the band can do, and they continue down this particular path, their musical future looks bright. Wrapping up the EP with an unnecessary cover of The Strokes’ “Is This It,” Broke Royals’ version, complete with processed vocals, turns one of the seminal songs of the New York early aughts music scene into a funeral procession. With this uneven outing, one wonders: Is this it? I sure hope not. Broke Royals’ EP release party starts at 8 p.m. on Jan. 27 at Songbyrd. —Christina Smart

New Singles

Bad Moves, “New Year’s Reprieve” 

At Wolf Trap’s 2023 Out & About festival, I saw Bad Moves heroically go on playing through a soaking summer storm while showgoers scrambled for their ponchos. The D.C. indie quartet—purveyors of anthemic guitar pop songs for underdogs—know a thing or two about fighting through life’s highs and lows, and that makes them uniquely equipped to write an honest holiday song like “New Year’s Reprieve.” Released on Dec. 19, it’s the first single from their upcoming third album, and with lyrics about scrubbing toilets for minimum wage through the most wonderful time of the year, it’s a welcome antidote to the overbearing holiday cheer that surrounds what is, for many of us, a work day just like any other. Thanks to the rhythm’s tongue-in-cheek Christmasy swing and the catchy backup vocals layered like a choir of carolers, you could sneak “New Year’s Reprieve” onto any proper festive playlist. But make no mistake, if New Year’s Eve left you feeling like the half-inflated snowman that’s only sort of still standing on your neighbor’s lawn, this one’s for you. —Taylor Ruckle

Wandering Bird, “Wandering Birds”

Wandering Bird’s new single, “Wandering Birds,” is not on their EP Wandering Bird. That would be silly. The band with a penchant for both wandering and fowl are taking a step forward in their newest release. Their aforementioned 2023 EP was much more folky and stripped down than this 2024 track. Though the act, finalists for City Paper’s Best Local Original Band, are going for a more large-scale, mainstream rock sound, it should please the same fans that gravitated toward their initial work. This single, “Wandering Birds,” is a bit more the Killers and Mumford & Sons and a little less Fleet Foxes. The production is quite an improvement from their self-titled EP, especially when it comes to Jason Cannata’s vocals. The guy can carry a tune. Wandering Bird play at 8 p.m. on  Jan. 18 at Songbyrd. —B.W.

Strutman Lane, “Lavender Haze” 

D.C. pop-funk band Strutman Lane teased a Taylor Swift cover to City Paper last year, and now the day has finally come. On Jan. 21, fans of both acts will hear Strutman Lane take on Swift’s “Lavender Haze.” Strutman Lane’s retro funk approach to the song transports you back to the olden days Swift attempts to recall in the track’s lyrics. Featuring a killer brass arrangement and synth solo, this track sounds like it could have come out in the 1970s. The band’s three-part harmonies sound smooth, buttery, and timeless. It plays like an instant classic that you’ll want to listen to again and again. Strutman Lane’s masterful arrangement, the result of its members being longtime friends and collaborators, creates a sonic experience—“that lavender haze”—that I want to stay in forever. You can hear the cover live when Strutman Lane takes the stage of Black Cat on Jan. 20 to play their biggest headline gig yet alongside another dynamic local act, Rock Creek Kings. Both acts represent the powerful present and promising future of the city’s music scene. You’re gonna want to say you knew Strutman Lane long before they have their own funky Eras-esque tour and sell out Madison Square Garden one day, which the band plan to do. Strutman Lane play at 8 p.m. on Jan. 20 at Black Cat. —Serena Zets 

Want to add your soon-to-be-released album, EP, or single for Beats Me consideration? Email: smarloff@washingtoncitypaper.com.

Table tennis room by day, live music stage by night—on most weekends, Comet Ping Pong is the only place in D.C. filling that niche. Last Saturday was different. 

To celebrate the release of his new single, “Speak to Me,” local artist Jack Bobley spent the afternoon of July 1 working with family, friends, and fellow musicians to transform Washington D.C. Table Tennis—a sports training warehouse tucked into a business park on Chillum Place NW—into an impromptu music venue. Audio cables crisscrossed the red, rubbery floor where the tables usually stand. Christmas lights decked the bleacher-lined cinder-block walls. At the far end from the door, behind the rows of PA speakers and guitar amps, sat the small stage—a carpeted riser with four wooden legs, built by Bobley himself, with help from his dad.

“We kinda kicked out some people playing ping-pong when we got here,” Bobley told City Paper.

For the space, it was unprecedented, but for Bobley, it was all part of an annual tradition. The 20-year-old singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist started organizing his own shows—at his parents’ house or local arts spaces such as The Fridge—while attending the vocal program at Duke Ellington School of the Arts. Since he graduated high school and moved to New York for college, Bobley has kept at it, putting on a show whenever he’s home for summer and reuniting old friends in the process. Saturday night’s eight-act bill was just the latest example.

“Everybody on the lineup went to high school together, or made it together through various pathways,” said Robert Hackett, aka RobbeyRob, a local rapper, Ellington theater alum, and member of the show’s 13-person co-organizer group text chat. “We all try to come together and keep each other working.”

ONLē Vibez, the venue that hosted the friend group’s 2022 show, recently moved from College Park to Baltimore, which inspired Bobley to look for a site closer to home. Hence the ping-pong club, where he used to play as a kid (and where he happened to meet pro table tennis player Khaleel Asgarali, who later bought the club in 2020). Renting and preparing a nontraditional space for a concert takes more money and more work, but it also offers the chance to throw a nontraditional show. With its extensive lineup, plus a few visual artists selling prints and two tattoo artists working on private tables off to the side of the performance space, Saturday’s event looked less like a single release party and more like a miniature DIY festival.

“Especially in New York, there’s this big culture of, ‘Oh, you gotta play a real venue,’” Bobley explains. “You got an opener, and then you see the headliner, and then you go home. If it’s the gray area—like, ‘Is it a party? Is it a festival?’—you can just kinda hang out. I’ve always tried to make it a more inviting environment.”

Sure enough, the show maintained a loose, friendly atmosphere even while blowing through a seven-act showcase of local talent in under three hours. One artist, Jru Anthony, had to cancel his set at the last minute, but all the others went on, with MC Makael Exum (a local comedian and, that’s right, Ellington alum) ushering them on one after another. R&B singer Charli Dahni kicked off the lineup, followed by rapper Drowzzy, and rock band Freddy Gang. After their set, several members of Freddy Gang stayed put and backed up the next four acts: singer and guitarist Nico Zaca, rapper Che AM, RobbeyRob, and finally Bobley, who—when he wasn’t monitoring the soundboard—also played guitar for Zaca and keys for Che AM and RobbeyRob.

About 100 people came and went throughout the night, most of them family, friends, or friends of friends, by the sound of it. The whole mass would cheer as each artist took to the homemade stage, but you could also hear different pockets of the room get excited when their favorite songs came up. Early in his set, Bobley turned toward the man who’d taken up his spot by the soundboard and asked: “Did you like that song, grandpa?”

Driven by the communal spirit surrounding the event, the performers decided to divide the cost of renting the space among themselves and donate the show’s proceeds to a local organization. 

“We would’ve ended up splitting the profits, like, 13 ways anyway,” Bobley says. “Should we all walk away with $25, or should we pool it and do something that can actually help somebody? We just decided to do that.”

Hackett chose the community development nonprofit Lydia’s House as the show’s beneficiary. He stressed the importance of the organization’s work in resisting gentrification in the District, but the decision was also personal: They helped his own sister become a homeowner.

“It’s something that was really close to me, ’cause it helped my sister accomplish something that not a lot of us have,” says Hackett. “I’m a D.C. resident, and I want to help the families that gave the city that identity that it has … Let’s preserve our community and make sure we can still live there.”

By the end of the night, combining ticket sales and donations from the vendors, the show raised a total of $1,031. Just as impressive, everything went off without any show-stopping technical issues.

“It’s cathartic, in a way,” said Che AM—real name Che Moorhead, a childhood friend of Bobley’s and the owner of at least some of the Christmas lights in the room—as the crowd started to dissipate. “I was really lucky to be a part of a group of wonderful musicians and very gifted creatives. Through everyone’s joint efforts, ingenuity, and creative spirit, everything just comes together.”

“It’s amazing,” Bobley echoes. “This is just an idea that I had, and an idea that consumed a lot of my time, frantically texting and DMing people for months, and now it’s over. It’s just amazing to see all these people come together.”

As Moorhead points out, though, Saturday night’s show represents the culmination of a much longer arc. In one day, they turned a sports facility into a music venue, but over the years, they also turned a small group of friends into an artistic community.

“Being able to see the evolution from doing this in Jack’s living room to now, doing something so big on this scale, has been a privilege of my life,” says Moorhead. “Nights like this remind me of how great what he built is.”

A few years ago, D.C. singer-songwriter Gabbo Franks—just Gabbo on the tapes and gig posters—covered up a regrettable high school stick-and-poke tattoo with a more professional rendering of a corn plant. The stalk runs up the side of their left hand, from wrist to pinky knuckle, as a permanent emblem of Hebron, Maryland, the small Eastern Shore town where they grew up. 

“It’s just corn—it’s all just corn,” Franks tells City Paper over breakfast near Mount Vernon Square. “It was this new neighborhood that was formerly a pig farm that my parents decided to buy property on. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, really.” Franks could travel to nearby Salisbury to play music, but they were otherwise left to roam the woods and fields where they could, as cellist Arthur Russell once sang, close their eyes and listen to hear the corn come out.

The crop holds sentimental value for Franks, and it gives Corn, their debut LP as a solo artist (out May 5), its title. They were inspired in part by Russell’s Love Is Overtaking Me, a posthumous collection of folk, pop, and country songs by the Iowa-born composer, who is better known for his contributions to New York City’s avant-garde scene. “I was like, ‘Damn, if he can go back to his roots, then I can go back to mine,’” Franks says.

The songs on Corn draw lightly on the Panda Bear-indebted psychedelia of Franks’ band Moon By Moon and the anti-folk of their past solo releases, but also the sounds of their rural childhood. Franks points to alt-folk acts like Sadurn and Deer Scout for contemporary comparisons, but in writing layered vocal harmonies and twangy acoustic guitar parts, they also pay homage to old favorites of theirs such as the Chicks.

“It’s reaching for a lot of things,” Franks explains, adding: “With anger being the underlying emotion.”

The fuel came from Franks’ first two years living in D.C. After earning a Bachelor of Arts in music technology at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County and interning at 9:30 Club for a summer, Franks moved to the District in April 2021. Their official arrival kicked off what Franks calls a “rough and rowdy” period full of “early 20s bullshit,” that included domestic abuse. 

“Learning what your boundaries are, what kind of people you want to be hanging around,” Franks elaborates. “There’s a lot to do with the transition from Salisbury—small town corn life—to big city Washington, D.C. … All of that culminated in these songs.”

Franks’ anger stands up to its full height on Corn’s caustic title track, which alludes to betrayals of trust by Salisbury friends as well by Salty Artist Management: The firm’s co-founder Chris Crowley signed Franks to a five-year deal shortly before shutting Salty down in response to sexual harassment allegations against him. The deal came about shortly after Franks independently released their Gabbo EP in 2020; it spurred Crowley to contact them with an offer. Given Salty’s work with clients such as Mitski and Jay Som, Franks was excited at the prospect of signing, recalling, “I was freaking out.” 

After having the contract reviewed by a friend, Franks agreed to have Salty rerelease Gabbo EP for a larger potential audience. In July of 2021, the rerelease came and went, and then Franks says Crowley essentially ghosted them for months. “I didn’t actually get the full detail of what was going on until my boss at 9:30 Club called. He was like, ‘Hey, so, I know you’re working with this guy. You shouldn’t.’” 

Salty folded that October, with Billboard reporting on the allegations against Crowley soon after. For Franks, that wasn’t quite the end of the story; in preparing to release Corn, they had to contact Crowley to get the EP rights transferred back to them. “It was still under their label, Honeycut [Records], so I had to text Chris and be like, ‘Hey, can you pull this shit down?’ And he was like, ‘Oh yeah! Yes, totally. Also, you’ve made $150. Do you want me to Venmo it?’” Franks laughs. “Like, what the fuck? Were you never gonna tell me?”

Franks got their $150 along with 100 unsold cassettes, the only tokens of their involvement with Salty—aside from the free Mitski shirt Franks received on signing. It’s the same shirt they vow to wear “like body armor” in the opening lines of “Corn.”

“I feel like when I wear it, it’s a big ‘fuck you’ to a lot of people,” they say.

To sidestep the messiness of the music business, Franks opted to release Corn independently. It’ll be available as a digital-only release on streaming platforms, on their personal Bandcamp page, and on the Bandcamp page of Gardenhead Records, the D.C.-based, not-for-profit label Franks’ partner and Moon By Moon bandmate Etai Fuchs founded in March of 2020. In the past, Gardenhead has earned write-ups from Pitchfork, Stereogum, and Uproxx for their charity compilation releases (which have featured artists such as Radiator Hospital, Deerhoof, and Dan Deacon), but Corn will be the label’s first conventional full-length album release.

“I don’t have any plans for physical, merch, anything like that. It’s more just like, I wanna get eyes on [Corn], and I know there are eyes on Gardenhead,” says Franks. “I don’t want to deal with any more bullshit, so I’m just doing it myself.”

In the face of everything else that’s gone on in the past two years, Franks speaks highly of the acceptance and respect they’ve found in the D.C. indie scene. “Growing up, I was really worried—I’m still kind dealing with this now—that no matter where I go, people are gonna think I’m dumb if I don’t play guitar well enough, or sing with enough oomph, or do what they want,” says Franks. “That’s not anything that I’ve experienced in D.C. It’s welcoming. It’s really fun.”

D.C. landmarks turn up all over the record: the track “To the country” name-checks Comet Ping Pong and “To Be Alone” samples the Mount Vernon Place church bells that chime just down the street from Franks’ workplace. The title track closes with a cell phone voice memo they recorded during the 2022 Supreme Court protests in response to the overturning of Roe v. Wade. (“I literally fist-fought with Jacob Wohl,” Franks says, shadowboxing over the table.)

Later, on the tender, closing track, “Big,” clips from home recordings of parties with friends and holiday get-togethers with family filter in as if from another room. Samples throughout the record place Corn in its time and place—within the context of its political backdrop and the relationships, good and bad, that shaped it—but Gabbo views the project as a source of personal catharsis above all else.

“There’s a lot of things that I have suffered that I know many other people have suffered—the consequences of violence and manipulation and shitty things people experience. I feel like it’s relatable,” says Franks. “But also, I make music for me. I write in order to give myself a little therapy. It’s what I’ve always done since I was, like, 10 years old. I just gotta get it off my chest. Say it loud.” 

Franks says it loudest on the final stomp-and-chant verse of the title track when they belt, “Eat shit and die on the Fourth of July/ The corn will be as high as an elephant’s eye.” The second part of that line rings out as a defiant promise to keep standing tall; that’s the other thing the corn tattoo on their hand stands for.

“It’s a symbol of—I dunno—strength despite it all.”

Gabbo’s debut LP as a solo artist, Corn, is available to stream starting on May 5.