Brooklyn’s Midnight Foolishness has never been a band to play it safe, but their latest release—a stripped, acoustic reimagining of Emmure’s “MDMA”—pushes that daring even further. The original track, a blast of aggression and cathartic fury, is reworked here into something almost spectral. Gone are the pummeling riffs and guttural screams. What remains is the raw, trembling pulse of the song’s emotional center.

In this version, Midnight Foolishness takes what was once confrontational and turns it inward. Their “MDMA” is slow-burning and fragile, built on sparse acoustic textures and a vocal performance that feels uncomfortably intimate—like a late-night confession recorded in a dark room. Every silence stretches, every breath carries weight. The heaviness doesn’t come from distortion; it comes from vulnerability.

That vulnerability is central to the accompanying music video—a grim, tightly framed narrative that blurs the line between metaphor and nightmare. Set in a dim, claustrophobic garage, the film depicts frontman Rob Corbino bound and tormented by a captor while two others sit motionless nearby. The sequence unfolds with deliberate discomfort, its violence slow and psychological rather than explosive. But as the video progresses, the scene begins to mutate: the captor’s power dissolves, replaced by something ritualistic and symbolic, until the roles of victim and survivor merge.

It’s a disturbing watch—but it’s meant to be. Beneath its shock lies meaning. The band turns exploitation into allegory, using the imagery to comment on the darker realities of creative life—the ways artists can be consumed by the very systems that elevate them. The performance becomes an act of reclamation, a moment of taking back power through the same vulnerability that once left them exposed.

Since their formation, Midnight Foolishness has inhabited a strange, vital corner of Brooklyn’s music scene—part nostalgia, part reinvention. They’ve worked with artists like Jonny Craig and Joseph Arrington, always moving between genres with purpose. What has remained constant is their commitment to emotional honesty. That thread runs through everything they create, and “MDMA” feels like the culmination of that ethos: a transformation of both sound and spirit.

Their acoustic approach strips away every protective layer, revealing something that feels personal to the point of discomfort. The guitar is soft but unsteady; the vocals waver between restraint and release. The song breathes, trembles, and occasionally breaks. There’s a kind of courage in that—the willingness to expose what’s underneath rather than amplify the noise.

In reinterpreting “MDMA”, Midnight Foolishness achieves what few covers do: they shift the emotional gravity of the song entirely. Where Emmure’s original thrived on force and defiance, this new version speaks in resignation and reflection. It doesn’t rage against the world; it endures it. That endurance is its rebellion.

The band’s trajectory reflects that same resilience. Since their 2010 debut The Sinners, Midnight Foolishness has evolved from energetic pop-punk roots into something darker, slower, and more introspective. Their sound has absorbed new textures—grunge grit, alt-rock melancholy, and the emotional immediacy of confessional songwriting. With “MDMA,” they’ve arrived at a point of pure honesty: a song that dismantles its own armor and stands unguarded before the listener.

By turning down the volume, Midnight Foolishness has found a new form of heaviness—one that lingers long after the last note fades. Their version of “MDMA” is less a cover than a reckoning, a quiet confrontation with pain and purpose. It’s an act of reclamation, not rage; an elegy dressed as an echo.

If the original screamed to be heard, this one whispers—and somehow, that whisper hits harder.