So Principato added his friend/schoolmate/roommate Jesse Paller (who is also in June Gloom) on drums. They played the track as a duo for some time, even entering it into an NPR Tiny Desk Contest. Still the audience feedback was the same: Make it even bigger. Principato describes the public reaction: “‘OK, this is cool [but] is there more? Like, what is this?’”

The duo Boon added more personnel — Drew Sher on guitar and keyboard, and a rotating cast of bassists. Principato guesses that “Hunger” went through about six or seven iterations (though just two recorded versions) to get to where it is today — a shimmering track that soars and dips through four minutes of deep interpersonal analysis that belies its emphatic vocals.

When describing the meaning of the song, Principato turns meditative.

“The hunger that the song is talking about is just sort of like, people have hunger for things emotionally, and there’s many roles that you play in different relationships,” Principato says. “And it’s sort of like, how much of it is real, and how much of it is something you’re doing to adapt to a situation?”

Putting the meaning into words is somewhat tough for Principato. “The main thing I think it talks about, and the reason why I think it’s confusing for me to talk about, is because it’s a confusion,” he says. It’s about parsing out needs from relationships both romantic and platonic. And it’s definitely not about one person in particular — Principato explains that whenever a song is about “a person” it’s really probably more about up to three people, sometimes including himself.

Principato’s clearly working through some stuff here, but that doesn’t mean all his inspiration came from within.

“A lot of the lyrics I sort of drew from weird places. There’s a line in the song that’s, ‘Are you sleeping or not talkative?’ And I remember as I was writing the song, a few years ago, I was at this bar and I just saw this guy texting this to someone and it struck me as this really weird, sad text message [and] my brain then assumed that whoever he’s talking to had no interest in talking to him and he was looking for a reason why, when maybe there wasn’t one,” he says. “I think that’s a big theme that runs throughout the album — and also this song is an acceptance of something, adapting to reality, even if it’s kinda sh***y.”

The album to which he is referring is the 10-track There’s No Saving This House, made at his and Paller’s shared home (Kokomo Studios) and mixed by Rusty Santos (who has also worked with Animal Collective and Prince Rama, among others). The album is finished, though there is no release plan just yet — the band is looking for someone to put it out.

Though Kokomo Studios sounds amazing to hear Principato describe it — the band recorded different parts of songs in different rooms throughout the house, including the attic and the bathroom — it’s really in the band’s past. Principato and Paller are transplanting themselves to New York City; by the time you read this, they’ll have left D.C.

Principato says this isn’t the last D.C. will hear from Boon, however. He gives the kind of promise one can expect from a newish band and a recent college grad: “We’ll be around, though. I think.”

Frontman and primary songwriter Brendan Principato describes the atmosphere-building as a months-long period of trying things out.

“It was simultaneously really spontaneous and really meticulously planned,” says Principato, a student at American University.

On the EP’s third song, “Circles” (listen below), that controlled chaos extends to nature sounds, crashing guitars, a flitting chorus of hums and an increasingly desperate vocal performance from Principato.

“The song is about getting caught in mental loops and feeling trapped in what seems like the path of least resistance or the unknown and the inevitable. I definitely wanted it have a chaotic vibe,” the songwriter says.

Principato’s inspiration for Rome emerged recently while he was living in Italy. “I never really traveled anywhere before I went to Rome, and living there was an intense transition from my normal life. I was totally amazed by everything that I was seeing, but also felt a severe and unshakable loneliness,” he says. “So I think a lot of the themes on the EP are about things that are close feeling extremely distant, and things that are far away feeling stuck in my head.”

Principato channeled those feelings into musical ideas in any way he could. “I didn’t bring any instruments with me,” he says. “I would hum little melodies into my phone with explanations like ‘guitar with heavy ping pong delay’ or ‘thick flanged vocal with high third harmony.'”

Upon his return to the U.S., Principato began developing his ideas with fellow American University student Jesse Paller, a drummer and recording engineer. They recorded the Rome EP as a duo, along with a submission to NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert Contest. They didn’t win, but both Bandwidth and NPR picked their video as a promising entry. Boon grew to a four-piece soon after, adding bassist Luke Ramsey and guitarist/keyboardist Drew Sher.

Since then, Boon has been performing regionally and promoting the Rome EP. To Principato, though, this is only the beginning.

“I have a ton of new songs written that I’ve been workshopping with the band, and they’re starting to come together and sound really cool and really different,” Principato says. “It’s been great having a band to bounce ideas off of.”

Boon plays March 31 at the Commune.

WAMU is licensed to American University.

NPR received more than 5,000 eligible submissions to the national competition, which gives musicians a shot at performing a live concert at the radio network’s headquarters in D.C. But fewer than 60 submissions came from inside D.C.’s borders.

NPR’s data shows that more than half of entrants from this region identified as Marylanders or Virginians, many of them far outside the beltway in places like Bluemont and Clarksburg. And if you watch all 130 local submissions like I did, you’ll find that many went the coffee-shop route: a solo performance, usually involving an acoustic guitar and a tender song.

But those who took another path made a big impression. That’s why — if you asked me to judge a regional Tiny Desk competition — I’d hand the prize to D.C. hip-hop artist Kokayi.

The established producer, vocalist and rapper from Deanwood has been nominated for a Grammy. He was a member of ’90s-’00s hip-hop ensemble Opus Akoben, who had a short stint on a major label. He’s prolific — last year he challenged himself to release a new track every day — and he’s taken hip-hop to Senegal with the grant-funded DC2DK project. So it’s no surprise that Kokayi brought his A game to his Tiny Desk submission.

On a song called “The Lick,” Kokayi sings, speed-rhymes, plays the keys, chair-dances and punctuates his verses with goofy faces. NPR’s official Tiny Desk Contest rules say that stage presence and charisma make up 20 percent of the judges’ criteria. Kokayi nailed that category, all while sitting down.

As for the rest of the field, I’m finding it tough to pick a clear runner-up, so how about I just name a bunch? D.C.’s M.H. & His Orchestra, Stranger in the Alps and Virginia’s The Plank Stompers turned in dynamic performances — and brand-new local band The El-Mansouris made a strong impression for a group that hasn’t even played its first show yet (see their debut Feb. 26 at Transformer).

I also enjoyed the videos from Reston’s Space Waste (they start the song by chanting “Yoko! Ono!”), Takoma Park guitarist Angie Head, Silver Spring smooth-pop trio The Walking Sticks and D.C.’s Be Steadwell, Sara Curtin, The Sea Life, Boon and The Highballers.

Watch Kokayi’s video plus 12 handpicked runner-ups in this playlist, below. NPR announces the national Tiny Desk contest winner on Feb. 12.

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