Margins by Lockerboy

# MARGINS - the new album from LOCKERBOY

Yo, we're stupidly stoked to finally drop this mess of an album into your headphones.

MARGINS happened after Mr. Peterson confiscated Jake's math notebook for the third time last semester - it was basically 20% equations, 80% lyrics and cartoon trash cans with our logo. When we got it back, we realized all our best ideas were crammed in those tiny ruled spaces where you're NOT supposed to write.

That's basically us in a nutshell.

This whole record is about feeling like you're stuck in the margins - caught between who everyone thinks you are and who you're actually becoming. We recorded most of it in Devin's basement after his mom got noise complaints about "Combo Knuckles" (sorry Mrs. H!), and finished the vocals in the back of Tyler's minivan because the acoustics were weirdly perfect.

"Hallway Static" literally samples our actual high school's first period bell because we snuck in a field recorder. "Swipe Panic" came from that time Mikey got left on read by THREE different people in the same group chat (still hurts, bro). And "Cafeteria Arcade" is basically a documentary of that food fight that got us banned from the east wing for a month.

The fuzzy guitars and blown-out drums aren't mistakes - that's just what happens when you're recording on equipment held together with duct tape and borrowed from your cousin's cover band. Those voice cracks in "Mirror Swirl"? Kept 'em on purpose because that's exactly how it feels when you're trying to figure yourself out.

By the time you hit "Flannel Parade," we hope you feel like you're walking with us - awkward, confused, but somehow totally fine with it all. The whole album builds toward that moment when you finally stop caring what everyone thinks and just own your weird.

For fans of math class daydreams, locker dents, stolen hall passes, and heartbeats that sound like kick drums.

P.S. The backwards talking at 2:13 in "Textbook Ghosts" is actually our chemistry teacher's safety instructions played in reverse. Don't tell him.

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.