The day was April 19th 2019. I’d been roused from my bed earlier than usual, but for good reason. Research for Dogrel was to begin today. So, I go about my process, avoiding reviews and searching for something hidden between the lines when I come across this sentence:
“Fontaines D.C. have been pigeonholed as the British Isles’ next great post-punk export”
British. Isles.
…
(Somewhere in my head, Dr Dre mutters “Alright calm down, relax, start breathin’”)
Don’t get me wrong. Geographically, the reporter is accurate (something something imperialism) and the chances of this being anything other than a politically correct paragraph opener are slim to none. Still, for a band so intrinsically synonymous with Dublin’s rising counterculture and indeed with the city itself, the sentiment just rubbed me the wrong way. And not for the reasons you are thinking.
For close to three years, Fontaines D.C. have been the most visible group to emerge from Girl Band’s shadow. Quickly gaining a reputation for being a can’t miss act, their music is as tight-knit as the group are, intertwined in both the mysticism and reality of Dublin and of being a Dubliner. There is a romance in their raw gritty nature, an energy harnessed by them in the rare way that ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ did when it hit shelves all those years ago. Their crashing, relentless waves of sound were born of them submerging themselves within the nation's capital. A former beating heart of both violent revolution and bitter civil war, flooded with smokey bars, dingy back rooms and proud people. Or at least, it was. Now, however, the face of a different type of war, a societal one that sees tradition and gentrification on opposing ends, with Dogrel born in the conflicts cultural no-mans land. To suggest that the sound of Fontaines D.C. comes from, or indeed could come from, anywhere other than Dublin is a fallacy. An album that exists in the spaces between, influenced by both the promises of the past and the failures of the future, much like their live show it’s an unmissable phenomenon.
To understand it, however, some independent reading was required. Poetry, particularly that of Joyce, is integral to the spirit of this debut. Even the name, (a local slang for working class, free-flowing, pub exclusive poetic diction, often rejected by the “experts” of the upper classes) is an artistic bird flip to the cultural elites inhabiting Dublin. But Dogrel itself is built upon two foundations: Cynicism and Romanticism. Be it the free-wheeling punk of 'Liberty Belle' (“You know I love that violence that you get around here, that kind of ready-steady violence. That violent "How do you do…”) with its ironic sneering glamour, or the brutal nostalgia of 'The Lotts', named for the bands old practice ground in the heart of old Dublin, littered with discarded needles. Tinged with a grimy love, Fontaines find themselves in the unsavoury position of pining for the old while sounding like the new, rolling their eyes at the coming days while grimly trundling into them with a bindlestiff full of memories.
And yet, this attitude creates a number of inquiries regarding the album. Frontman Grian Chatten told The Guardian “I think a lot of our music sounds, to me, like buses and trains and just hordes of people…” And it does. It's undeniably contemporary, with tangible links to the noise-rock subcultre that changed international perceptions about Irish music. To some, it is the sound of the new, European, modern Dubh Linn.
This brings to mind then, a number of questions - Does the album sound like new or old Dublin? Does the production value that removes much of there original rawness (noticeably apparent) cheapen their message? How believable are they then? The 'answer' is complicated, because it is supposed to be. They admit as much themselves in the aggressive stomp of ‘Television Screens,’ stating “I could lay you right down, on these lively living streets, and still you'd not know, how the city heart beats.” To create a polished, squeaky clean effort or a distorted, hairy tumble would provide explanations and confirmations when none pertain to exist. It would ultimately defeat the purpose of the quintet's release. Dogrel is spotty, it’s imperfect, it’s crowded in places and sparse in others, riddled with dead ends, narrow alleys and open skies. It's an unforgiving, unattractive mismatch of influences, humanity and vitality, and that’s what makes it so loveable. To suggest it take a side is unworthy. Much like its city, it simply IS. No judgement, no favours, unabashed and honest.
Combining the roguish charm of The Pogues, the innate rebellious nature of Irish Trad, the spite of punk and intellectual tongue in cheek rapport of indie, Dogrel covers a vast swath of land in its eleven track landscape. To mistake it as simply post-punk is a disservice, as it’s far too dynamic, too clever, to be pigeonholed. A handful of traditional melodies (Dublin City Sky), alt-rock bridges (Chequeless Reckless), poignant ballads (Roy’s Tune) and chest pounding proclamations (Big) are all part of the canon. You need only look at the opening trio of songs to confirm this; the opportunistic war cry of ‘Big’, the urban, strutting ring of ‘Sha Sha Sha’ and the indie rock stutter of ‘Too Real’ show a diverse soundscape that is once again symbolic of their home. Varied, with personality, vigour and bite, while the brogue of Chatten is perfectly at home while ruminating on any of the groups many poetic, urban one-liners - “You work for money and the rest you steal,” “The city in its final dress, and now a gusty shower wraps up the grimy scraps,” “Driver's got names to fill two double barrels He spits out "Brits out", only smokes Carrolls.”
With Dogrel, Fontaines D.C. succeed in encapsulating what it is to be young, Irish and angry. The soundtrack of a city with its life flashing before its eyes, pausing the savour the best moment on its way over the edge, it's an instant Irish classic. Defiant in the face of insurmountable odds, replete with an obtuse stubbornness, snarlingly loyal and fiercely territorial, the flawed, romantic, underdog nature of Dogrel is impossible not to love.
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