If you haven’t seen The Fools, you need to. A three-piece: Roddy, the charming lead guitarist; Finton, the energetic drummer; and El, the magnetic lead singer, who describe themselves as “somewhere between slacker rock and shoegaze.” Most of their original songs are unnamed, and they don’t have their own backline. This means you definitely won’t find them strumming the chords to ‘Angels’ on a Tuesday night in Finnegans, but it’s this authenticity I admire so much about them. Don’t get me wrong, I love a mindless sing-along to a golden oldie as much as the next guy, but The Fools offer something different, something special, something… one-off.
Last summer, I was lucky enough to see Primal Scream, clad in psychedelic suits, march on stage to the enchanting whine of bagpipes before belting out an epically polished rendition of ‘Rocks.’ It was definitely an awesome spectacle to which I was a spectator, but when I watch The Fools, I don’t just feel like a member of the crowd; I feel woven into the fabric of the performance.
They don’t have anything on Spotify or Soundcloud, only a couple of grainy phone recordings from their practices so you have to go and experience them to listen to them. A few weeks ago, I did just that. I stood in Sneaky Pete’s clasping a can of Red Stripe, spotted with goosebumps watching Finton lose himself in the drums whilst Roddy perfected the guitar. Then, El’s ethereal voice permeated through the crowd, and any barriers that existed between the act and the audience broke asunder, and I was transported into a realm of pure, unadulterated music.
When I looked up, I noticed that on the stage there sat a clown doll, no taller than a pint glass, dressed in a woollen jumperand a bobble hat. After the gig, I asked El, “Is this your mascot?” to which they replied, “No, Bucket (the doll) simply is The Fools!” I admit, at first, I had literally no idea what they were on about and dismissed it as artistic twaddle. But later, when I started writing this article, I realised that The Fools aren’t just Roddy, Finton, and El; they’re everyone in the room – we’re all The Fools, and Bucket represents that.
So that’s why, when I’m older and trying to convince my children that I was once a hip young dude (maybe using slightly different vernacular), I won’t reminisce on the time I saw a group of 70-year-olds perform a 50-year-old song. I’ll instead tell them about the times I spent sardined into small, dark rooms experiencing the coolest, most hip band of the lot: The Fools.
Image by Xiivisuals_ and Eleanor Watson