Let’s be clear about Social Gravy’s re-released single, “Fools”: this is not a song that uses metaphor as a shield. From its first snarling chords, this track, a furious time capsule from 2016 unearthed by Brad Kohn and Vee Bordukov, feels less like a composition and more like a brick heaved through a stained-glass window. It’s a raw-throated accusation, a two-by-four of a protest anthem aimed squarely at the “fascist favorite nominee.”
The sonic texture here feels less like indie rock and more like a color palette stolen from one of Goya’s Black Paintings—all consuming shadow and flashes of grotesque, furious light. The central chant of “you’re a liar” isn’t clever; it’s guttural. It’s the sound of patience being utterly, violently exhausted. There’s a curious bluntness to it all. It discards poetry for the cold, hard weight of an indictment, and in doing so, becomes something strangely powerful. For a project calling itself “romantic rock’n’rollers,” this is the sound of a romance with idealism dying a very public death.
There’s a strange, almost nauseating vindication in hearing this now. The warnings about walls and hatred haven’t faded; they’ve simply sharpened, their outlines hardening in the intervening years. It doesn’t play like a relic. It plays like the morning news. You listen, and a forgotten taste rises in your throat—like the metallic tang of a coin you held in your mouth as a child on a dare. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you did it anyway.
It’s an uncomfortable listen, as it should be. The song succeeds not by offering comfort, but by reminding you that some fires were never put out. When, exactly, are we hoping for this song to finally sound dated?
