The long-dormant gears of Coventry’s favourite sons have finally ground back into motion. After the sleek, perhaps overly-polished synth-pop detour of 2015’s It’s Automatic, a record that left the band questioning their relevance and drifting into a necessary hiatus.
The Enemy return with Social Disguises. It is a record that suggests the only way to move forward is to remember exactly who you were when you started, trading the studio sheen for the raw, fraternal energy of three mates rediscovering their spark.
Production-wise, Social Disguises strikes a brilliant balance between the grit of a rehearsal room and the sheen of a modern studio. It avoids the clinical sterility of their mid-2010s output, opting instead for that late 00’s indie rock sound the fans fell in love with. The guitars are jagged and tactile, pushing through the mix with a caffeinated urgency, while Tom Clarke’s vocals carry a weathered authority that only a decade-long absence can forge.
The album doesn’t take its time to unfold, its high-energy highlights are where the band truly find their stride. Tracks like “The Boxer”, “The Last Time” and “Controversial” serve as a potent re-introduction to the band’s core DNA, offering biting social commentary wrapped in the kind of soaring hooks tailor-made for muddy festival fields. Later, “Pretty Face” follows suit, a sharp-edged, cynical critique of superficiality that pulses with a youthful, jagged energy.
However, even a triumphant comeback has its stumbles. “Not Going Your Way” feels like a rare moment of creative autopilot; it leans heavily on a derivative, jangly guitar riff that has been recycled by countless indie-rock bands over the years, lacking the bite found elsewhere. Fortunately, this is a minor outlier. The album’s true emotional gravity centres on the title track, “Social Disguises.” A sombre departure, it explores themes of self-worth and the pressure to conform, moving away from past destructive patterns to focus on personal growth. Similarly, penultimate track “Innocent” showcases a different, more experimental style for the band; its slow burn suggests it will quickly become a cherished fan deep-cut.
There is an inevitable ghost in the room: their 2007 platinum debut, We’ll Live and Die in These Towns. Rather than fleeing that legacy, the band embraces the formula, working-class storytelling and sky-high choruses, without simply repeating what worked back then. Aside from one lazy track, the remaining ten are essential listening. Social Disguises is a triumphant return for a band that almost gave up music entirely; it proves that sometimes, a band needs to go away for a while just so the world can realise how much they were missed.
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