Local act Berra celebrates new single at Comet Ping Pong show

This spring, I sat down with Roberra Djalleta, the lead vocalist of the D.C.-based band Berra at Comet Ping Pong. Berra is composed of Roberra, a recent American University graduate and first-generation Ethiopian American, and her bandmates Gibby, Lucas, and Tyler, who met in school and through mutual friends over the last few years. Released earlier that day, the show celebrated the official release of their single “New Hampshire.” Quickly moving beyond the label of being simply a “college band,” Berra has found a place in D.C.’s music scene—though not without challenges. Before the show, I learned about the origins, writing, and experiences with the D.C. music scene of Roberra and her crew. 

Ted: When you first moved to D.C., how was your music received on campus? How do you think both your musicality as well as the band's have grown or shifted over time?

Roberra: I started releasing music senior year of high school, and I was really inspired by what I was listening to at the time. Like I had a vision for it—and I still have the vision. When I came to college, when I moved to D.C. from small town Georgia, I really wanted to do shows. But I was just really intimidated by the scene in D.C. It’s pretty big and historic. A lot of big acts have come from the DMV area, like Snail Mail and all these huge people, you know? So that meant my biggest thing was how can I make sure that I can still be in college and do music yet make sure that I’m not regarded as just a “college band.”

How did you break into the D.C. music scene?

When I was taking my gap year after freshman year, I was working in this place called Flower Child in Maryland. I needed a job. I felt really lonely during that time when I was making that project, and I met this girl named Becca, and she became such a good friend. I mean, I feel like during that time, I didn’t have family, I wasn’t seeing my family a lot. But I did a show at Comet, and I opened for a band called Purr, and they were working with this guy named Jake Aron, a producer in New York. He’s produced Solange and Snail Mail, and all these huge, huge, huge acts. And one of the people from Purr, her name is Eliza, after the show she was like, “you’re really good, and I think you should go to New York and work with Jake on spec,” meaning for free. “And then what will happen is,” she said, “you’ll do this and you’ll do that, and then you’ll get signed” and, I was like, “Oh my god. This is the moment.” Nine months into that gap year, I was feeling so hopeless, but then I go to New York. I work with this guy who’s produced all this music that I listened to in high school like Lush by Snail Mail and “Hutch” by Berrie—and for me, that was when I thought, “this is an actual thing that I can do.”

How would you describe the D.C. music scene, and how would you describe yourself within it?

This isn’t just D.C., but it’s so very pretentious. It’s really easy to get carried away by things that aren’t important, whatever it may be. But I also found a lot of community in D.C. and the D.C. music scene. But it’s just very different from the Georgia music scene. I grew up going to house shows in Georgia, and things felt a lot more warm—and abrasive, in the best way possible. I feel like D.C. is a bit more political and polished, which isn’t a bad thing, but I feel like sometimes, like it can be a little pretentious, especially, as a Black trans girl it feels that way —because it’s very heavily white male dominated. I really recognized that, even before I transitioned. I was so awe-inspired by these people that I was seeing when I was 19, 20, the people wanting to make friends and wanting to be friends. But you quickly realize that not everyone wants to be your friend, and not everyone has your best interests, right? It’s like a business. And it’s political all the time—and whether or not someone posts on their story, “Black lives matter” or “trans lives matter,” you know, like what are they actually doing for Black or queer people? I feel like that’s what I mean when I say pretentious or things that don’t really matter.

So is it almost like people in D.C. are putting on a front, acting all polished and diplomatic? 

Yeah, and it’s not like that at all in Georgia, you’re not, you’re not gonna fake it. I mean, obviously, there are people everywhere, but it’s a lot less fake-ness, or woke performative shit like there is in D.C. And I love D.C. so much, and I’ve, you know, excelled so much being here in terms of the music scene. But, I feel, although D.C. is pretty liberal, as a Black, trans girl, queer person, I’ve had my issues too. It doesn’t really escape, you can’t really escape that disconnect. And even though I feel like I’m a good songwriter—I know I’m a great songwriter—I sometimes wonder if I were a white girl, how far would it take me? And people always say it’s good to be set apart in the music industry—but not because of how you look, right?

Can you tell me more about the new single, “New Hampshire?”

So for this project, all the songs in the project are deep, deep songs about gender identity, or just identity in general, or family matters. But this song was just really about the first real relationship I had, with this guy, and just feeling insecure. We took a trip to Vermont, and he was just still talking with his ex. It was really, really hard, and it didn’t end up working out. But that is like the embodiment of the project Lover’s Virginia—“New Hampshire” is so Lover’s Virginia, because I love writing really cheesy love songs or really cheesy breakup songs. There’s this feeling from that song—when us two look back this is something that we will feel was worth it? Is this something that I will feel like is worth it?

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The single “New Hampshire” is included in May’s Lover’s Virginia (2025), an EP now available on major music streaming platforms.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

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Ted Bergman is a junior in the College of Arts & Sciences studying Anthropology and Political Economy.