I’ve been yapping about this band for the past six years or so, and I will never — NEVER — pass on an opportunity to see them live. So when Fontaines D.C. opened their European tour at the MEO Arena in Lisbon on 21 October, there was nothing to think about. There and back, Wednesday to Thursday, like I’ve done so many times before for them and others. But let me tell you about this particular band live: they have never once let me down. Always, ALWAYS worth it.
This time they came with Dopamine Chamber, an album Grian has described as a picture of where we might be headed. “We’re in a glorious age of distraction,” he told NPR. Elsewhere he called it “quite grotesque, being able to self-prescribe dopamine through your phone.” The cheap high, on tap, all day long, and none of it ever quite enough.
Which is funny, when you think about it. Because for one night in Lisbon, they built the other kind.
That man had more energy than half the GA
First up, Chalk, a duo from Belfast with a debut album, Crystalpunk, out earlier this year. Weirdass electro rock — but eh, it works. They took that venue like a sudden hailstorm, no introduction needed.
They move, they bring the same energy, they share an atmosphere with the headliners, so it makes total sense as an opener. Maybe a tad too electro for a Portuguese crowd that came here for rock (sorry, Lisbon, you know it’s true), but that’s no crime. Smart move putting their setlist up on Spotify beforehand, too — anyone curious could do their homework before the lights went down. And I sure did — made it all the more enjoyable. And honestly? That man had more energy than half the GA. Props to him. Openers never have an easy job, warming up a room that’s only there for one thing. Chalk did it anyway.
Boys in the Better Land, obviously
Not everyone online was sold on opening with Boys in the Better Land. Hold that thought — because I love it, and for two reasons. One, it fits the narrative perfectly: those Irish lads, now full-grown men, going all around the world to play their little (big) tunes. Two, it gets it out of the way, because let’s be real, everyone’s waiting for that one. Starting with Dogrel also just makes sense. That’s the timeline. Dopamine hitting hard right away.
And wherever those Irish lads go, they bring home with them. That giant shimmering curtain, that familiar gothic f.d.c glowing above them — it already feels like coming home. And look closer: home is everywhere, in all the little symbols that keep it there: the orange, white and green gaffer tape on Grian’s mic, that Kildare t-shirt. Everything that reminds you where this band comes from.
A frontman, a poet and a magician
Fontaines are exactly where I pictured they would be when I first saw them live. And it’s been a long time coming. Some bands you see once, and you just know they’re meant for bigger stages. They’ve got the thing, whatever the thing is. Maybe it’s that confidence — one that isn’t faked, and has been there from the start. I’ve seen proof of it before — NOS Alive 2022, front row, Grian’s in-ears giving up on him mid-song. He didn’t flinch. He just powered through to the last note like the pro he already was. And in terms of band age, they were still literally babies then. Things. Signs. They never lie. You could already tell where this was going.
Here’s where it went: Grian isn’t here to make the show. He commands it. His charisma is forever mind-blowing, and a sudden single flip of the hand is enough to send a whole arena into a frenzy. I love how those gestures seem to come out of nowhere, and yet you feel compelled to react the second they happen. That trick already worked with small numbers. But with crowds this big, damn, it’s seriously unreal to witness. A frontman, a poet and a magician, all hiding (or not) under that oversized shirt and that forever shy twinkle in his eyes.
And the arena answered back. Was it sold out? Not quite, apparently. You’d never have guessed. The floor looked packed, and the energy coming off that crowd felt way bigger than whatever the actual capacity says. So loud. So much jumping. Mosh pits! Fuck, I’ve missed mosh pits in arenas. Amazing. A crowd of all ages too, from kiddos to silver hair. This band transcends generations when it comes to riding that high.
That’s also the second time they’ve kicked off a European leg in Lisbon — the Romance tour started at Campo Pequeno in November 2024. I’m starting to think it’s no coincidence, when you see the crowd they find here. Shout-out to you, Lisbon. You were something else. You always are.
None of that would land without the music underneath it, obviously. The craft is crazy — but that’s something we already know. The layers of sound in Fontaines songs are impressive enough in the studio. When you get to see them played live, it takes on a whole new meaning: absolutely bonkers. And that’s also down to the crew, because the sound and the lights were excellent, even from up in the stands. Kudos, crew — always much love and appreciation to you.
For the old timers like me
Absolute pleasure, always, to hear Nabokov, Jackie Down the Line and that Big Shot. Roman Holiday will never fail — forever THAT vibe, and if you know, you know. And some songs are forever: In the Modern World is definitely one of those. That one’s prob going to outlive all of us — which is funny, because I wouldn’t have bet on the new gen adopting it as the anthem it turned into. Eh. I’m always right, but I’m fine accepting when I’m not.
But you can tell they’re playing for the masses now. Not a single song from A Hero’s Death, and only one from Dogrel for the old timers like me — and I do regret that. Fair play, though: the merch in the pit alone showed plenty of those fans were born of Romance. First big tour in big boy venues. Can’t blame them.
In a world that keeps asking for more, they gave us less? Some will say it’s a short setlist — nineteen songs, done in an hour and forty minutes. But not really less, because quality over quantity will always win for me, and they sure delivered. Maybe in the future we’ll get to reconnect with the absolute bangers those first two albums brought us. For now, it’s time for moving on. If they keep doing what they’re doing, their career is going to span so many years that we’ll have plenty of time to revisit the past.
(Still hoping to hear Demolition from the new album at some point, though. Just saying. Like the rest of the internet.)
Because the new ones? They work particularly well live, and I mean new new: Dopamine Chamber came out on 16 October, five days before the show, and eight of the nineteen songs came from it. A fascinating piece of work — consider me enchanted by the live version.
Marianne has been out long enough for all of us to know it, and know it well — the whole crowd was singing every word already. The perfect first single, a proper banger, and obviously it works great live too. That one should definitely stay in the setlist for tours to come.
And the new songs bring that particular atmosphere — kinda high, vibing to the music, slouched on the carpet in your room. But shared in a room with thousands of people, they become a whole new thing. Bigger carpet, same range of feelings. Works alone, works with people, works the whole spectrum. Same high, just not alone anymore. They’re good.
Actions worth millions of words
They never talk much on stage, and they don’t need to. When Grian wears a keffiyeh for Big Shot, that’s a stance. Right after it, the whole arena turns green, white and orange for Mimesis, with Carlos singing at the piano. And when they close the main set on Where Is Gone? with a Palestinian flag, it’s another one. Actions like that are worth millions of words.
Funny thing about Where Is Gone?, by the way: the studio version hadn’t exactly blown me away on first listen. Live? It won me over completely.
All that on opening night, too — which, by definition, is always a night of adjustments and jitters. Nope. Perfect? Maybe it wasn’t. But the atmosphere sure put a veil of perfection over it all. High? Hell yeah.
Our voices weren’t enough, so we lit up the venue
Then came the break before the encore, long enough to get people wondering. If something did go wrong backstage, they couldn’t have picked a better moment for it — because the crowd took over. First with our voices, until they weren’t enough. Then with our phone lights, one after another, until the whole arena glowed.
Cute. Gutting. Both at once. And for once, the phones weren’t the distraction. They were the point.
Feat. Lisbon
They came back with Japan, and special shout-out to that one. It’s SUCH a vibe live — absolutely loved it. Quite incredible, the sweetness that oozes from that song. It caught me by surprise: the same kind of comfort hug you’d get from Favourite.
Then I Love You, feat. Lisbon. Might have been my highlight. Because have you heard that crowd? If you’re reading this, maybe you were there and you know exactly what I mean. If you haven’t, go buy a ticket for the next stop of the tour. Well worth it.
And Starburster? The whole room went absolutely feral. If there was a peak to this high, that was it. What a fucking song.
Is it the dopamine crash?
And then they end on Six Shot Morning. A show that brings you that high, and it ends on that particular song. Grian sitting down, basking in the ethereal sound of it, leaving us to go home with reflection rather than finite answers about it all.
Is it the dopamine crash? Maybe. But not the kind that leaves you empty.
So, to anyone who wasn’t sold on that opener: the night opened on the very beginning, Dogrel, and closed on Six Shot Morning, the opening track of the new album. Page one of their story, then page one of the next chapter. A full circle of what was and what is today: an actually good, real dopamine chamber — the kind no amount of screen time can give you — just for the time of a show.
Or something like that.
Givers, not takers
That show was definitely a dopamine chamber — just not the kind they denounce on the new album. A proper one, made of real feelings: ecstatic joy, community, and sore knees the next morning.
It’s not the kind of gig that requires something from you to give you something. They’re givers, not takers. They don’t feed on you, not in any obvious way at least. You walk out of it as high as any gig can leave you, but in the morning you don’t wake up drained. You wake up content. Comforted. With a kind of warmth you get to keep. That’s a very nice feeling, and not every band lets you walk out with it. Maybe it’s the songs, maybe it’s the people, or maybe it’s the perfect mix of it all.
Grian told NPR he just wants “to make people really feel things about the world that they live in.” Well. Job done.
So fucking proud of those lads, all grown up, that my heart could fucking burst. It’s a very sweet feeling to find a band early on and think: oh, you’re going places. You’re going to be big — and more importantly, loved. And then it all happens, and you get to witness it with a sweet smile and a little something in your eye.
Happy For You, lads. Truly.
I’m not sure where the limit is with this band. But the highs I always knew they’d reach? Well achieved.
That’s the kind of gig that gets me emotional, because of one very simple idea: what a fucking blessing it is to be a music fan. So lucky that my brain is wired that way, that I get to go to these shows and see these artists who bring the colours into the everyday greyness of this world. Best thing ever.
The FOMO of passing on those Slane Castle tickets for next June is definitely starting to hit hard after that one.
Did you miss me or something?
Well, yeah.
