When we talk, Lloyd has already released the first singles. The lead, “Proof,” the most bulletproof track on the record, is inspired by the new jack swing of the ’90s and is a lyrical one-shot about the pain of yearning. If old Choker was prone to ramblings, this song’s directness seemed to show restraint.
He’s pleased, he tells me, with the response it’s received. On YouTube, the top comment reflects on how “Listening to choker […] just gets better and better.” And Blair, who’s also not immune to long waits between projects, is all compliments. “The proof is in the pudding. I took my time and maybe it didn’t benefit my career in terms of [Spotify] monthly listeners, but I’ve retained the same fanbase because my fans grew up with me. Chris’s fans are exactly the same.”
One of my favorite songs on the record is “Uneven.” Lloyd worked on his piano skills for the making of the album and on this track his playing veers between buoyancy and drama. Its chorus swells with thunderous chords: “Let me in / It’s not my fault / I’m scratching at your door like a dog,” he sings, his voice peaking with falsetto. The image it evokes is of pitiful desperation, like the one Lloyd told me about earlier, but expressed simply, resonant, and true. I can’t claim I had been consciously waiting for Choker throughout this long near-decade, but when I hear his words, the feelings envelop me like I’m 19 again.
I ask him about the heaven invoked in the album title. He describes it as a kind of contentment. A peace that’s earned and can’t be sold. Has he found it?
“Not at all.” He laughs. “I feel a lot closer. That’s all you can ask for.”
