When XOË (pronounced X-O-E) began making music together a year and a half ago, they had no preconceived notions about what influences might come to the surface. “I feel like it’s only been since the end of last year that we’ve really found our sound,” the band’s keyboardist, Max Irvine, tells me. “And even then, we’re still figuring it out in real time with the audience.” At this point in time, XOË sound like what would happen if Erykah Badu fronted a Paisley Underground band. Or if Jill Scott were backed by the Bad Seeds. Or if D’Angelo played a set at the Roadhouse in Twin Peaks. Or if Sault merged with Portishead—I could go on like this forever, but no hypothetical comparison can fully encapsulate the sound of XOË.
The band came together organically, when drummer Saba Samakar, a session musician in Seattle for over a decade, invited a few people over to his studio to jam. One of them was Adrian Michael, a skilled drummer, guitarist, and bassist, whom he’d met kickboxing at his gym. Another was Irvine, a trained jazz pianist and self-taught guitarist who’d been studying music since he was 4. On this particular day, Zoë Duarte stopped by the studio to drop off a roommate’s dog whom she was walking, and Samakar asked if she wablunted to join. “She was very quiet that day,” Samakar recalls. “Yeah, I don’t think I said shit!” Duarte says with a laugh. “There were just all these dudes I didn’t know… I was so nervous. At that time, I hadn’t sung in front of many people.”
From the moment we sat down for an interview, the band conveyed their nervousness. “Audrey, we are a little scared,” Samakar tells me, half joking. At first, I don’t buy it. XOË caught my attention at Den Fest—the annual showcase for Den Tapes—due to their hard-to-pin-down sound and commanding onstage presence. I found myself completely enchanted by Duarte, whose demeanor and voice were something in between To Bring You My Love–era PJ Harvey and Frank-era Amy Winehouse. She hypnotizes onlookers with her voice, yet floats around the stage, Lynchian-style, mysteriously looking at the floor. When a song ends, she looks up shyly and flashes a bright, dimpled smile. Despite this angelic onstage presence, Duarte tells me that she suffers from deep stage fright. “I think it’s actually gotten worse the more I play,” she says. “Every show, I’m like, ‘Let’s get out of here!’”
Duarte has always been a singer. “I just am drawn to it,” she tells me. “It’s what makes me the happiest.” In fourth grade, she recorded a tape of herself singing Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” for a school project. In high school, she joined the school choir and jazz ensemble, but didn’t find it fulfilling. She daydreamed about being in a band, but considered it unattainable. “I thought nobody was gonna want to fucking collaborate with me,” she recalls. “I’m too nervous!” Eventually, she started singing over leased beats in her bedroom and writing her own songs, which would later evolve into XOË’s first EP, XOËP. “It’s actually a crazy dream to be in this band,” says Duarte. “When I think about what we’ve done, I’m just like, holy shit! It’s a fucking dream. The dream’s happening.”
“Our songwriting process is highly collaborative,” says Samakar, explaining that he’ll often bring what he thinks is a finished song to band practice, only to see it change and evolve through the minds of his bandmates, or, as he describes, “they’ll freak it.” Duarte, who writes the lyrics, cites ’80s avant-pop artist Anna Domino (who famously synth-ified Aretha Franklin’s “Land of My Dreams”) as key inspiration, along with Erykah Badu, the Cure, and Boy Harsher. She will bring simple guitar chords and lyrics to rehearsals and describe through words, noises, or even pictures what she wants it to sound like. “We play around until Zoë goes, ‘OH YEAH!’—that’s when I know I’ve done something right,” Irvine explains. Duarte points to her bandmates: “These guys are so fucking talented. They can make a song into this beautiful, complete thing.”
XOË thrive on polarities: They are experimental and heavy, yet easy and warm. “Someone once called us ‘doom soul,’ and we like that,” Irvine says. The band never had a proper conversation about what they wanted to sound like, and they resist an explicit genre label.
However, Samakar admits that, whether it’s the intent or not, their individual musical inspirations will make their way into the room like friendly ghosts. Among the inspirations mentioned were Bill Evans, Donny Hathaway, Carole King, MonoNeon, the Roots, and Animals as Leaders, along with ’90s grunge and classic video game soundtracks.
The boys all agree that their main goal is to make Duarte shine. “She has such an amazing voice,” says Irvine. “But all of us shine!” offers Duarte. “That’s the only way it works. Each person must passionately feel their instrument and really give it everything. We always talk about putting it all in, no matter what.” Samakar interjects: “You can say it… Put your pussy into it!”
Given that XOË is a relatively new project with just two EPs out, most of the gigs they’re booking are opening sets at modest venues. “I don’t care if I’m playing to two people or 50 people,” Irvine says. “Just having people allow us to get onstage and just show our whole ass—you know, like, artistically—it’s such a privilege to me.” The band isn’t fueled by arbitrary measures of success, but rather their earnest passion, genuine friendship, and love of playing. “This is one of the few groups that I’m onstage, I can mess up, and we all just laugh,” Michael tells me.
“We’re all really fucking passionate about what we play and how we play it,” says Duarte. “When we play, we are all fucking levitating together because—it’s cheesy—but this is why we’re here. This is what gets us up. This is the one thing that makes us feel ourselves.”
