Ari Voxx, distance., released Dec. 10
Against an ever-shifting electropop backdrop, Ari Voxx cuts through the noise on her latest EP, the follow-up to 2023’s I’m OK, Please Stop Asking. The self-proclaimed “Dreamy Pop Princess” of the District can’t sit still for more than a few minutes across the release’s seven tracks, collectively a reckoning with the instinct to repel our closest connections, which keeps us all spinning around on the proverbial dance floor. Voxx is a fluid and often unpredictable vocalist, and her tremendous range is on display here as she swings from Caroline Polachek-esque poperatics to smoothly accessible couplets that evoke old-school Robyn. Backed by her band the Sad Lads, she’s an expert at landing sticky phrasings that scratch a serious brain itch. On “Giovanni,” a transportive ’80s banger inspired by the James Baldwin novel, she even flexes vocal prowess in French while lamenting an unresolved love “from the foggy pane of Paris.” The down-tempo “Sea Scorched (Siren)” is another standout, bringing to mind the hyper-modulated chamber soundscapes and warbling vocals of peak Kate Bush. A surprise lurks around every corner of this EP, all the way to the back half of closing track “Tender Feelings,” where an electric guitar emerges from slumber without warning to do battle with the endless parade of synths. The production, by Sad Lad Ryan Boshart, does much to cohere this prodigious display of new-wave eclecticism into a unified sonic statement—drenched in reverb throughout, it conjures a sense of cinematic grandeur, as if Voxx were awash in lilac light, calling out to an enormous, echoing, empty room. The centerpiece of distance., released on Dec. 10, is a minute-long spoken-word “Interlude” that lays out a thesis of sorts: “You found yourself in this liminal space, empty middle point, like limbo, a temporary death … all there is for you to do is to ponder this distance.” While this reflection is not unwelcome, it’s perhaps unnecessary; the pondering is borne out in the music. Ari Voxx performs at Rue Music & Art Fest on Jan. 20 in Purcellville, Virginia. arivoxx.bandcamp.com. —Amelia Roth-Dishy
Caleb L’Etoile, You Gathered Friction, released Dec. 13
Caleb L’Etoile; courtesy of the artist
Local artist and music producer Caleb L’Etoile wastes no time immersing you in the series of catastrophic events that inspired his debut album, You Gathered Friction, after an eight-year hiatus from the craft. The ambitious record, released on Dec. 13, spans the genres of modern pop, dance, indie rock, and punk, and yet it altogether works due to clever, parallel sampling on its “Water Curses” and “Lightning Curses” tracks. Those songs anchor the collection along with the closer “Today,” which samples every track. The result is a sonic reliving of L’Etoile’s darkest memories of depression and grief. “There were two relationships that defined this album: one that was longer term that ended in divorce and another one that happened quickly after that was very intense and quick and ended abruptly,” L’Etoile says. “It was a catatonic period for me, and I needed a way to process—so I started writing music again.” The measured pop-punk harmony of “Water Curses” feeds nicely into the faster-paced, synthetic melody of subsequent track “Lighter, Now!” Standout song “Death Rattle” maintains that pacing while demonstrating L’Etoile’s willingness to pull the listener in different directions with a haunting hook and talk-sing bridge. “Lightning Curses” feels like a system reset—grounding you in the album’s overarching sound while walloping you with L’Etoile’s most visceral songwriting: “You gathered friction/ As a story in your hands/ But all stories they need action/ So many books demand.” There are plenty of other gems throughout the album, including the more upbeat dance track “Hungry Ghost” with some mesmerizing, computer-processed vocals interspersed that L’Etoile purposefully didn’t publish. “The only restriction I gave myself was that I wasn’t allowed to use house music beats,” L’Etoile says. “I used to do house tracks and remixes of pop songs, and I didn’t want to be making anything that made me comfortable.” Instead, L’Etoile found himself inspired by St. Vincent, FKA twigs, and the Armed to explore other rhythmic patterns and emphasize vocals more than he had previously. There you can hear the echoes of L’Etoile’s early stints in punk and indie bands. “This album is weird; I think it’s off-kilter,” L’Etoile says. “It’s my personal take on pop music, and I hope it resonates.” calebletoile.bandcamp.com. —Dave Nyczepir
Roscoe Tripp, “This Place Called Crystal,” and “Dylan Thomas,” released Dec. 13
Roscoe Tripp; courtesy of the band
You’d never guess that Roscoe Tripp began in 2021 as the creative project of a single producer, Greg Fine. These days, the five-piece band play with a smooth rapport reminiscent of the occasionally sprawling early-2000s indie groups they’ve cited as inspiration. After putting out three EPs since 2022, the band’s first full-length release is slated for 2025, and, on Dec. 13, they dropped a single and a B-side that should whet appetites. “This Place Called Crystal,” penned and produced by Fine, jumps out of the gate like a new Modest Mouse release before building steadily toward a stop-off on a languid frequency that gives way to a somewhat measured resolution, evoking the carefully plotted pop structures of the Shins. The melding of Fine’s lead performance and backup vocals by drummer Sam Elliott lend a warm, anthemic quality, while unshowy licks from guitarists Tony Vitez and Masterjee Bumbu keep the precise lyrical propulsion of the song intact. It’s a slick and yet altogether satisfying lead single, and is complimented on the B-side by a largely faithful cover of “Dylan Thomas” by Better Oblivion Community Center, the indie duo otherwise known as Phoebe Bridgers and Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes. On this live recording—taken from a summer performance at Fort Reno—the band are joined by Izzy Burke, “kind of an honorary member of Roscoe Tripp” as per Fine, and the lead singer and guitarist of hard-charging local rock outfit Modest Goddess. Wearing Bridgers’ and Oberst’s harmony parts like comfy old sweaters, Fine and Burke have easy vocal chemistry that manages to coax a healthy dose of jauntiness out of the song’s sardonic existentialism. Lively playing by the rest of the band makes the track feel like it was recorded from the front row of a surprisingly professional house show—a promising preview for Roscoe Tripp’s forthcoming tour around the East Coast, marking their first shows outside of the DMV. roscoetripp.bandcamp.com. —Amelia Roth-Dishy
Mystery Friends, On the Floor!, releases Jan. 10
Courtesy of the band
It was a very productive year for Mystery Friends. The D.C. indie dance-pop rock band released their second album, Utopia, and picked up a Wammie nomination for Best Pop Group to boot. And it looks like 2025 is gearing up to build on that momentum with On the Floor!, a five-song EP set for release on Jan. 10. Expanding on the soundscape of Utopia, the band’s synth-rock journey continues wholeheartedly with the opener “Look at Us Now.” Lead singer Abby Sevcik’s ethereal vocal delivery, perfectly balanced with arrangements from synth player/guitarist Dave Mohl, allows lyrics like “You were skipping dates with your therapist” to remain hopeful instead of landing in desolation land. With its tight bass line on the chorus, “Pretend” has the potential to become a club anthem. At a mere 3:08 run time, however, it wraps up too quickly to keep the party truly going. The intro on “Never Here” builds a la Underworld’s “Born Slippy” (or really, any synth-dance pop record from the ’80s and ’90s), and expands into an instrumental jam session with some accompanying processed vocals, the likes of which, over the years, has become de rigueur for synth-rock bands (see Phoenix’s “Love Like a Sunset, Part 1,” Phoenix’s “School’s Rules,” Phoenix’s “Definitive Breaks,” Phoenix’s “Bankrupt!,” Phoenix’s “Congratulations,” and Phoenix’s “North.” Good Lord, Phoenix has a lot of instrumental songs). “ON THE FLOOR!” is the EP’s weakest musical link. Though the bass line is once again strong enough to propel the tune, it’s a musical rondo that is only interesting when it highlights said line. “Rising Star,” the EP’s second-track, is also its best. This song highlights everything that is great about this band. Sevcik has no issue handling the melody’s gymnastic vocals, the arrangement is strong enough to keep the listener’s ear peeled, while lyrics like “Making songs for a screen/ A million people I’ve seen/ But you’re playing to empty rooms” gives a very realistic view of life as an indie band—though Sevcik & Co. may have the last laugh as she ends the song singing “You’re the next big thing.” Should they continue down this particular musical road, those lyrics may prove prescient. Mystery Friends play at 7:30 p.m. on Jan. 11 at the Atlantis. theatlantis.com. $20. mysteryfriendsmusic.com. —Christina Smart
Father John Misty, Mahashmashana, released Nov. 22
Father John Misty. Credit: Brent Goldman
Since his breakthrough album, I Love You, Honey Bear, was released in 2015, Father John Misty (aka Josh Tillman) has made a career of not necessarily defying expectations. Instead, with each subsequent release, the Rockville native creates material where it’s better that the listeners go in with no expectations whatsoever. Which brings us to Mahashmashana, his latest and most musically expansive LP to date (released Nov. 22 via Sub Pop Records). With the lush opening title track, complete with soaring strings and sax solo, Misty’s songwriting harkens back to a time of ’70s Brian Eno and David Bowie collaborations; when artists and bands didn’t dare adhere to any set musical rules in order to get radio airplay (see Pink Floyd). At a whopping nine minutes, this sonic soundscape widens to a point where it could easily lapse into complete self-absorption. But Misty is such a skilled songwriter that, at this point, there’s no chance of this happening. On this release, Misty blatantly wears his influences on his sleeve. The Bron-Yr-Aur stomp of “She Cleans Up” calls upon both Led Zeppelin and T. Rex. “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose” would fit nicely on any of Lou Reed’s albums. Misty’s lyrics are wonderfully prankish. With tongue planted firmly in cheek, he offers “Around this time, I publicly/ Was treating acid with anxiety” and “Mental health/ There’s no higher virtue held/ In this crazy world/ It’s more than a little bit absurd” with all the seriousness of someone reciting the Bard. “Screamland” allows Misty to expand his vocal range—something he rarely does—on the chorus. Normally when a singer does this, it may sound like they are overreaching. With Misty, this higher place on the scale finds him singing with more authority. And if anyone ever thought that Misty could never possibly get down on it, “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” which is just funky enough to make a listener groove, will quickly dismiss that notion (“It’s what gets the asses in the hall.”). Could it be that Father John Misty is actually having (gasp!) fun?! Have no fear, FJM devotees. Misty’s lyrics do still lean toward the melancholy (“It’s always darkest right before the end”) but on this album Misty finally admits that there could possibly be a light at the end of the tunnel. Father John Misty plays at 8 p.m. on March 1 at the Anthem. theanthemdc.com $50–$75. —Christina Smart