Rather Be is GIVĒON’s second single of 2025, following Twenties, both part of the rollout for his forthcoming sophomore project on Not So Fast/Epic Records.
Released just ahead of his 30th birthday, the track carries a sense of maturity sharpened by regret.
It’s paired with a performance-style video directed by Loris Russier, which avoids visual clutter in favour of a sleek, stage-like intimacy. The focus? GIVĒON and the weight of what he’s singing.
Behind the boards is a lineup of trusted collaborators—Sevn Thomas, Matthew Burnett, Jahaan Sweet, Maneesh, and Jeff “Gitty” Gitelman—who build a world that never tries to outshine the voice at its centre. It’s minimal, warm, and deliberate.
Horns glide in and out like memories. Nothing moves too fast. The restraint isn’t aesthetic—it’s emotional.
“This song is a reflection on acceptance. The idea of seeing someone’s flaws and choosing to stay,” GIVĒON said. “It’s about loving someone not for who they could be, but for who they are.”
And that clarity is sewn through every lyric.
“Rather be a fool / Than to start with somethin’ new”
He opens by throwing logic out the window. There’s no flirtation with possibility—only a plain declaration: he’d rather return to something broken than risk something hollow. It’s not romantic. It’s human.
“Cryin’ hardly does it anymore / Can’t drink with your pain anymore”
Here, the numbness sets in. GIVĒON isn’t romanticising heartbreak—he’s weary of it.
The production mirrors this with space and silence, the kind that wraps around you when your go-to coping habits stop working.
“I’d rather be a fool than believe in someone new / I’d rather be with you / Than the other half of someone who’s not even half of you”
This chorus doesn’t beg. It resigns. He’s not searching for closure or revenge.
He’s parked somewhere in-between, replaying the best version of a love that doesn’t exist anymore—and choosing it anyway.
“Now I’m in this room / Wishin’ you’d settle down or come around”
It’s not just metaphorical. GIVĒON draws us into a physical space—an echo chamber of memories.
This is where the verses shift from emotional distance to vivid immediacy.
“I’ve been dancin’ to all the songs / That you love all along”
The most heartbreaking part? He’s not dancing for joy. It’s a ritual of remembrance. A way to keep her presence alive without her being there.
“Lost in the dark / ’Cause you stole the sun, oh-oh”
This could’ve easily veered into cliché, but it doesn’t. It’s short, visual, and honest.
A single image says everything about grief’s ability to make daylight feel artificial.
“Countin’ all the ways she ain’t right for me / I’ll take your mistakes over missin’ you, always”
This pre-chorus cuts deep. He’s tried to rationalise his way out of loving her. Made the lists. Did the maths. And none of it holds.
The production dips slightly here—an instrumental sigh before the chorus hits again.
From the start, Rather Be feels like it’s pacing emotionally, not musically.
The instrumental is light on its feet, held together by faint drum loops and a soft, unchanging groove that almost disappears into GIVĒON’s voice.
You’ll hear horns—present, low in the mix, and used more like punctuation than melody.
They come and go without asking for attention, which ends up being more effective than if they did.
The track has a retro vibe to it, capturing a soulful sound without mimicking the past.
It leans into a vintage feel—slow, spacious, no rush to get anywhere—but stays emotionally precise.
Even when the bass subtly thickens or harmonies fold in during the chorus, it feels less like escalation and more like persistence.
He’s not building toward something. He’s stuck. And the music stays right there with him.
Vocally, GIVĒON lets the melody do as little as possible. Most of the lines hover in the same range, slightly behind the beat.
There’s almost a laziness to the timing—not sloppy, but deliberate, like he’s dragging the words out just enough to keep from breaking. You can tell there’s room for him to go bigger, but he doesn’t.
That restraint creates tension, not release. And it works better than a dramatic key change ever could.
Every time the hook returns, it lands a little differently. Not because the music changes—but because the weight behind it does.
Loris Russier’s direction lets GIVĒON perform without performance.
The elegant symmetry, light-filled rooms, and minimal movement keep the focus on presence. The kind of presence that aches when someone’s gone.
If Twenties was a reflection on time slipping by, Rather Be is about what you do when the clock keeps ticking but your heart stays stuck. It’s not about closure. It’s about continuing to love with your eyes open.
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GIVĒON Rather Be Lyrics
Verse 1
Rather be a fool
Than to start with somethin’ new (Start with somethin’ new)
Cryin’ hardly does it anymore
Can’t drink with your pain anymore, oh
Oh, I’d rather
Chorus
I’d rather be a fool than believe in someone new
I’d rather be with you
Than the other half of someone who’s not even half of you
Post-Chorus
Oh-oh
Yeah
Oh-oh-oh
Verse 2
Now I’m in this room
Wishin’ you settled down or come around
I’ve been dancin’ to all the songs that you love all along
Lost in the dark
‘Cause you stole the sun, oh-oh
Oh, tears are fallin’
When I see your face in our phone, I can’t еrase the memory
Pre-Chorus
Countin’ all thе ways she ain’t right for me
I’ll take your mistakes over missin’ you, always (Ooh)
Am I out of place? Out here when I’m supposed to leave
Oh, I’m tellin’ you
Chorus
Rather be a fool than believe in someone new
I’d rather be with you
Than the other half of someone who’s not even half of you
Post-Chorus
Oh-oh
Yeah
Oh-oh-oh
