Fontaines D.C.—Dublin-based and as punk-rock as bands come—released their fourth studio album Romance this past August. Romance is a “sprawling and surrealistic” exploration of Y2K nostalgia and alt-pop anthems, a stark departure from the edgier post-punk sound of their previous albums Skinty Fia (2022), A Hero’s Death (2020), and Dogrel (2019). The change has left some of Fontaine's fanbase questioning whether the band is losing their raw authentic sound to become accessible to a wider audience. Personally, I think Fontaines D.C. are the same angry Irishmen they’ve always been—they’re just evolving.
The five men that comprise the band, Grian Chatten, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan III, Tom Coll and Carlos O'Connell, met in music college in Ireland—a country that has been at the forefront of all their music until now (even the D.C. in their name stands for Dublin City). Fontaines’ relationship with their home city has been both the subject and specter of their previous albums—many of their songs ponder identity and belonging within Dublin and how to exist beyond its city limits. “Jackie Down the Line,” one of Fontaines D.C.’s most popular songs off Skinty Fia, reckons with the conflict of abandoning Ireland for London. From the song’s lyrics alone, it seems to be about an abusive relationship, but Chatten has always claimed it’s really about “Irishness surviving in England.”
In contrast, Romance is Fontaines’ “least Irish” album, Chatten shared in a Guardian Interview. “It’s a color I didn’t really feel like painting with at the moment,” continued Chatten, “especially with the intensity with which we did. I don’t want to write something that feels like a sequel.” Consistent with Chatten’s intentions, there is a sweeping “universality” and “grandiosity” to Romance that feels different from their previous home-focused music. But Romance is more than a lyrical evolution away from pints, poetry, and “a pregnant city with a Catholic mind," it also marks the start of their collaboration with producer James Ford. Well-known for his work with bands Arctic Monkeys, Gorillaz, and Depeche Mode, Ford's influence could lend itself to Romance’s more synthesized sound.
The brazenly experimental album begins with the weepy crooning of “Romance,” where Chatten sings, “Maybe romance is a place / For me / And you.” Next on the album is what I believe to be one of the best songs of the year. “Starburster” was released earlier in the summer as a single, and I haven’t stopped playing it since. Chatten’s vocals are more vibrant than ever and truly showcase his range, alternating from jittery breathing to steady singing. In January, when Chatten was traveling to the studio to record for the track, he had a panic attack. He was unable to talk with anyone or even stand up from the table—the only thing he felt capable of was writing the lyrics. On the song, his panting is interspersed with ranting, echoing the hyperventilation he experiences in recurrent panic attacks. Romance continues with the string-centric rock ballad “Desire.” It invokes loneliness, yearning, and perhaps even the predetermined nature of mental illness: “Deep they’ve designed / You from cradle to pyre / In the mortal attire / Desire.”
“In the Modern World” is another triumph of the album and my personal favorite. It is anthemic and emotional and searching. It channels the dreamy tones of Lana Del Rey’s “Ultraviolence” and the sprawling quality of Smashing Pumpkins’s “Tonight, Tonight.” Seventh track on the album, “Motorcycle Boy” uses the imagery of Francis Ford Coppola’s Rumble Fish as a means to reconnect with his younger brother: “it was a warning, but also an expression of love,” Chatten shared. It’s also more proof of Chatten’s refined and evolved lyricism. He uses minimal short phrases while still expressing an impressive depth of emotionality: “It’s finе / I know / You rain / I snow / You stay / I go.” The bottom half of the album echoes this gentler theme; “Horseness is the Whatness” leans into an even more sober tone, referencing Joyce’s Ulysses to express political fatigue through depression: “Will someone / Find out what the word is / That makes the world go round? / ‘Cause I thought it was ‘love’ / But some say / That it has to be ‘choice’ / I read it in some book / Or an old packet of smokes.”
Rounding out the album are “Death Kink” and “Favourite,” which deliver grunge instrumentals full of Fontaines’ signature personality and a shade of New Order-esque electronic flavor. Beneath the colorful blockbuster quality of the album, Romance is strangely sad and almost detached. There’s a contrast between the frenzied emotion of Chatten’s singing and deeply apathetic lyrics: “To be anesthetized / And crave emotion,” Chatten begs on “Here’s the Thing.” “Numbness is seductive” (“In the Modern World”) and “sentimentality is a sickness that leads to fatal consequences” (“Motorcycle Boy”). The brilliance of Romance is found in its embrace of the unpredictability of transition and new possibilities. Fontaines D.C. has blended frantic energy, raw emotion, and refined craft in an album made for times of flux and metamorphoses. In my opinion, Fontaines D.C. hasn’t thrown away all their initial artistic inspirations, and they certainly haven’t forgotten their roots, but just like their new flashy wardrobe and dye jobs, they’re discovering a new style.
Rating: INDY
Sabrina Bailey is a junior in the College studying Psychology and English. If you see her stomping around campus with headphones in, she is most likely listening to “In the Modern World.”
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