There’s a calm kind of strength in Chloë Foy’s voice — not just in her singing, but in the way she speaks. It’s not loud, not theatrical, but it holds weight. It’s the voice of someone who’s lived through upheaval and come out softer, not harder. When we spoke, she was reflecting on the years since her debut album — a stretch of time marked by personal crisis, healing, and creative rebirth — and how it all led to her new record, A Complete Fool.
Written in the aftermath of a long-term relationship ending and during a deep battle with depression, A Complete Fool is both intimate and expansive. It’s an album that leans into vulnerability without collapsing under it — full of lush strings, delicate piano, and Foy’s characteristically restrained but emotionally resonant vocals. Though it’s shaped by heartbreak, it’s ultimately an album about resilience.
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“It’s been five years since the first record,” she says, almost surprised by the number. “And I’m such a different person now. I mean, I’m still Chloë at the core, but… so much has changed. A global pandemic, the end of an eleven-year relationship. I think I’ve grown a lot.”
That growth is deeply woven into A Complete Fool, which feels less like a follow-up and more like a full-bodied reclamation. “With the first one, I was so desperate to please,” she admits. “I was worried about doing everything right — about being liked, really. And I think I was a bit stifled by that. This time, I didn’t care so much. I just wrote what I liked and went with it. It was a much more freeing experience.”
You can hear that freedom in the songs, even in their most fragile moments. The album’s final track, ‘Empires of Dust’, is stark in its intimacy — just piano, strings, and her voice. “It’s full of feeling,” she says. “It’s kind of a love song, and in some ways it encapsulates the whole record. I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to hold it together enough to perform it live.”
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Foy grew up in Gloucestershire, listening to the likes of The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, and Neil Young — “the greats,” she calls them. That classic sensibility still pulses beneath her songs, which balance lyrical nuance with understated instrumentation. But her influences don’t stop with sound. “I’ve always been a bit hands-off visually,” but when asked if there was anyone that inspired her outside of music, she says, “but I love Wes Anderson — those filmic colours, the composition, the mood. That’s something I’d like to explore more.”
Being an independent artist gives her the freedom to chase that vision. “There are real advantages,” she says. “You hold onto your music, and that can be really empowering. No one’s ever going to care as much as you do. You get to make the decisions. But… the reality is, it’s a full-time job you don’t get paid for.”
Social media, in particular, weighs heavily on her. “Honestly? I wish I didn’t have to do it. I definitely lean toward the more traditional side of things. I understand the value of community, of connecting with people, but I don’t love the way music is tied to platforms like TikTok and Instagram now. It has taken over everything.”
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Despite the noise of the industry, for Foy, the heart of her work remains simple: expression. “If I’ve got something I need to say, then I’ll write it,” she says. “Often it’s subconscious. I don’t even realise I’m processing something until the songs start coming.”
That was the case with A Complete Fool. She began writing it not long after her debut, but then everything stopped. “I got quite unwell,” she shares. “I suffer with depression, and I’d dropped deep into a depressive space. I left my team. My relationship ended. And I remember thinking: Do I even want to do this anymore? Am I going to release this record at all?”
She pauses, then continues: “it’s kind of taken a long time to do. But I’m glad it’s going out there in the world.”
That inner conviction — quiet, persistent — seems to guide everything she does. When asked what part of music brings her the most joy, she doesn’t hesitate. “Singing,” she says. “If I could only do one thing ever again, it would be singing. Especially live, with people in the room. It gives the songs new meaning, new resonance. And when there are harmonies… that’s the best thing in life.”
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There’s a spark when she talks about performing — a rare, unfiltered light. “My favourite gig?” she repeats the question, laughing. “That’s like asking someone to pick their favourite child. But… Dublin was pretty special. They’re so friendly there.”
As the conversation winds down, Foy reflects on the strange, beautiful, sometimes brutal business of making music in 2025. “It’s really hard to make money out of music these days,” she says, “but if I can help anyone — if something I write resonates with them — then that’s the joy. That’s the real meaning.”
It’s clear that Chloë Foy doesn’t make music to be loud, or viral, or fashionable. She makes it to be felt. And in A Complete Fool, she’s created something lasting — quiet, yes, but unmistakably powerful.
A Complete Fool is available to stream now, and you can follow @chloefoymusic on Instagram to keep up to date with her future releases.
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