Caleb L’Etoile writes music the way others write ghost stories — short, vivid, and impossible to shake once you’ve heard them. A Virginia-based multi-instrumentalist, producer, and singer, he has carved out a world where indie pop collides with DIY punk energy, where grief and humor share a room, and where melody wraps itself around deeply personal lyrics to form miniature universes.

Influenced by the experimental warmth of Arthur Russell, the poetic ferocity of mewithoutYou, and the restless eccentricity of Modest Mouse, L’Etoile thrives in the in-between: tender and abrasive, strange and inviting, personal and mythic. His songs often unfold like cinematic vignettes, populated by flickering characters and richly colored landscapes, yet grounded in everyday anxieties — loss, love, collapse, survival.

L’Etoile has earned a reputation as an artist unafraid to twist pop conventions into something stranger — and more lasting. Self-identifying as genre-fluid, he treats each song as an experiment in form and feeling rather than a product of category. One track might lean into jagged post-punk energy, another into tender acoustic balladry, and another into glitchy, synth-soaked pop, yet all of them carry his distinct fingerprint: an eye for storytelling, a restless spirit of invention, and a willingness to risk discomfort in pursuit of something memorable. This refusal to stay in one lane has become central to his artistry — a way of ensuring that no two songs are the same, yet every one feels unmistakably his.

That adventurous spirit has fueled standout singles like “KEROSENE,” hailed for its fever-dream catharsis; “Aw Hell,” with its hip-shaking grit and theological tremors; “Death Rattle,” a blast of cathartic intensity; and “Lightning Curses,” praised internationally as “a stroke of genius” (Iggy Magazine). Together, these songs have established L’Etoile as a songwriter who can balance intimacy and spectacle, menace and melody.

Now, with his fifth album of 2025, PS, set for release on October 15, he pushes even further. Conceived as a horror anthology in song form, PS presents each track as a self-contained vignette — a miniature horror story stitched into a larger collection that dances on the edge of dread and camp. At once chilling and magnetic, the record expands his reputation for bending songs and genres into haunted shapes, proving that Caleb L’Etoile doesn’t just make albums — he builds rooms for listeners to wander, where the walls hum, the shadows breathe, and every song leaves a mark.