Combination Choir by Lockerboy

"Combination Choir" is our shot at finding the quiet in the chaos, to actually listen to the hallways we practically live in. We're still Lockerboy, still running on that shaky, afterschool energy, but this album, it feels like we finally figured out how to turn down the noise and hear something deeper. It starts small, just the tremor of a pencil tracing names in a notebook margin, the kind you're too nervous to say out loud. You know, those little maps we all doodle, pointing to who we are, or who we wish we were.

Musically, we aimed for something warm and kinda fuzzy, like an old sweater or an amp that's been kicked around too many times. Jangly guitars chime like loose change in a pocket, drums sound less like a stadium and more like everyone clapping along in a gym. Our voices still crack, yeah, but this time, it's on purpose, leaning into those vulnerable spots. The sound shifts from bare whispers to these full-on, windows-down harmonies, like the whole school piling into a beat-up car, everyone singing along, not quite perfect, but totally in it together.

The whole idea for "Combination Choir" really kicked off when we started thinking about our locker combos—not just numbers, but like secret codes passed down, connecting us to family stories, old lullabies, even what weird food our grandparents cooked. It’s about those ordinary things becoming something quietly sacred. We wanted to make an album that acknowledges all the awkwardness, the goofy stuff, the total panic of growing up, but also shows how those things link us. Like those pep rally banners, hand-painted and a little messy; they're not just for cheering, they're almost like quiet prayers for everyone trying to figure things out.

There's this one track, it really brings it all home, where we’re chanting, "Write your name inside my echo, I am not alone." It’s meant to be sung back and forth, like you're doing it with friends in the hallway, or just yelling it in your bedroom. It's about that moment when you realize you’re not a ghost in the crowd anymore, that your story, even the quiet parts, belongs to something bigger. We put a lot into this, trying to build something honest and inclusive, something that feels timeless even if it’s just about high school stuff. It’s our way of saying, it’s okay to be awkward, it’s okay to be quiet, because those are the voices that make the loudest, most important kind of choir.

We're the misfits who turn detention slips into power chords. Our tunes? All awkward texts, hallway crushes, and Saturday night burnouts – raw and unfiltered like your locker journal. Grab your headphones and join our cafeteria rebellion.