After what is quite possibly their biggest summer to date, playing huge shows in London, Manchester, Newcastle and across Europe, it seemed like the perfect time to pick my Top 10 Fontaines D.C songs. When putting this list together, I considered a mix of factors: the power of the lyrics, the band's musical evolution, personal impact, and just how memorable or meaningful each song has been to me. Some tracks stand out for their emotional resonance, others for their inventiveness or for the way they've hit me at just the right moment. So here goes.
The title track from the band's second album often gets overlooked. This is partly due to what came before and after. Yet there are some brilliant songs on that record. In my opinion, this track is the standout.
Arriving just over a year after the band's debut 'Dogrel', 'A Hero's Death' had big boots to fill. It's the sound of a band adapting to their new normal and to a rapidly changing world.
The song retains the post-punk feel fans loved on 'Dogrel.' It highlights Grian Chatten’s lyricism. Five years on, these remain some of his finest words, wrapped around a crisp pop vocal. “Don’t get stuck in the past / Say your favourite things at mass.” Over doo-wop backing vocals evocative of Brian Wilson, he tells himself: “Tell your mother that you love her, and go out of your way for others.”
The self-interrogation hits its peak when Chatten notes that “happiness ain’t really all about luck” and bellows: “When you speak, speak sincere / And believe me, friend, everyone will hear.” In burning the candle at both ends, he warns, “we’re all in the running for a hero’s death”.
This is one of the band's best, and still one of my favourites. Fontaines D.C. embrace pop but make it their own. 'A Hero's Death' arrived during upheaval: the world shut down, tours were cancelled, and sudden fame left the band with nowhere to go. That context gives the song weight. It sounds like letters to themselves, reminders of what matters when the noise dies down. In a discography full of urgency, it stands out as quiet, hard-won wisdom.
Released as part of a deluxe edition of 'Romance', the most recent Fontaines D.C. album, 'Before You I Just Forget' is a dreamy effort that sees the band embrace new sounds and sonic ideas similar to those on 'Starburster', the lead single from 'Romance'.
Speaking on the song, Conor Curley said, “‘Before You I Just Forget’ is a song that started with a vision of this really blown out sound, something that heaved and shifted with new details becoming apparent every time you would listen.“Like never being able to step in the same river twice, the song morphs and changes, finishing with an incredible string part by Grian."
hat makes 'Before You I Just Forget' particularly striking is the layering. The track opens with washed-out guitars and a dense, almost shoegaze-tinged wall of sound, but it doesn't arrive fully formed: swirling synths begin to thicken the atmosphere. What makes 'Before You I Just Forget' particularly striking is the layering. The track opens with washed-out guitars and a dense, almost shoegaze-tinged wall of sound, but it doesn't arrive fully formed: swirling synths begin to thicken the atmosphere, while the bass swells and subtle electronic flourishes shimmer just beneath the surface. The drums breathe and pulse, veering between restraint and sudden, echoing accents.
With each chorus, new production elements flicker in and out, reverb-soaked vocals, touches of feedback, and gradually more intricate harmonies. By the time the song reaches its climax, the addition of a sweeping, cinematic string arrangement brings everything together. The string arrangement that closes the track is genuinely beautiful, weaving around Grian Chatten's vocal and adding an unexpected hint of melancholy that lingers long after the song ends. It's the kind of song that rewards patience and close listening, a deep cut that casual listeners might miss, but fans will treasure for its careful layering and bold use of textures
Fontaines have used this sound sparingly, but both times they've explored this sound, it's resulted in standout tracks. This one has been on heavy rotation on my playlists for the last few months. As has track number 8, an euphoric ode to innocence set over a kaleidoscopic indie riff.
Released as a standalone single at the beginning of 2025, 'It's Amazing To Be Young' is a beautiful, nostalgic look at youth. The song has echoes of another song from 'Romance', 'Favourite', which may or may not be on this list. It's a real euphoric affair about the innocence of being young over a kaleidoscopic indie riff.
When talking about the song, bassist Conor ‘Deego’ Deegan III explained how the song was inspired by being “in the presence of a newborn child” – the child of guitarist Carlos O’Connell.
“I’m glad it got to see the light of day, because it's a special song to us. More so for the way it was written than the song itself, weirdly. It started life in the presence of Carlos’ newborn, and it’s just a message for her, you know.”
He continued: “It was really heartwarming. Sometimes, as people, we can be cynical. The world can make you that way if you’re paying attention to it. Optimism sometimes feels like a necessary delusion. The birth of a child introduced us to pure beauty and hope. It can’t be debated by anyone jaded, or even by ourselves.”
Musically, the song is built around a kaleidoscopic guitar figure. It loops and shimmers with an almost hypnotic quality. The rhythm section keeps things grounded without weighing the track down. There's a lightness to the production that feels deliberate. Musically, the song is built around a kaleidoscopic guitar figure. It loops and shimmers with an almost hypnotic quality. The rhythm section keeps things grounded without weighing the track down. There's a lightness to the production that feels deliberate. Much of the Fontaines catalogue leans into density and texture, but 'It's Amazing To Be Young' lets the melody breathe. Chatten's vocal sits high in the mix, warm and unhurried. The result is one of the band's most immediately joyful recordings, a rare thing for Fontaines: a song that doesn't ask anything difficult of you, simply wanting you to feel good.
It's a contender for my song of the year. I remember the first time I listened to it: walking home late at night with headphones on. The shimmering guitars and uplifting melody carried me through city streets. It made me pause and appreciate the quiet optimism that can still be found, even in challenging times. It's a sound I think really suits Fontaines D.C., and I hope they explore more.
As opening statements go, this one is up there. "Dublin in the rain is mine!" Is quite the way to open your debut album. A snarling guitar and bell-driven track with the Fontaines frontman barking that he's "gonna be big." With the determination of a young Gallagher, it's hard not to be gripped and taken on this journey. The journey so far has been very good.
What's remarkable about 'Big' is how much it achieves in under two minutes. The production is deliberately raw; there's a scrappiness to the recording that feels intentional, like the band wanted you to feel the sweat and the urgency rather than a polished studio sheen. The guitar-and-bell combination gives the track an almost ritualistic quality, as if Chatten is not just declaring his ambitions but performing them, willing them into existence.
And that opening line, barked rather than sung, lands like a fist on a table. It's not a request. It's a statement. The city is his. The stage is his. And he's going to be big. The confidence is almost absurd, but the music backs it up completely. Every instrument is pulling in the same direction, locked in and relentless, giving the song a momentum that carries you straight into the rest of the album before you've had time to catch your breath.
It's not all bark and no bite, though. In a minute and forty-five seconds, Fontaines D.C. present their manifesto: you are either with them or against them. There's something almost confrontational about how short it is. It doesn't outstay its welcome. It just kicks the door open and dares you to follow. The line “I'm gonna be big” reads like prophecy now. The fact that they delivered on that promise makes revisiting it all the more satisfying. It's worth considering what kind of band announces itself this way, not with a slow build or a careful introduction, but with a sprint.
It speaks to a self-belief that borders on recklessness, and yet it never tips over into arrogance because the song is too good, too alive, too real. You believe every word because the music demands that you do. This song opens one of the very best debut records of the 2010s. It sets the stage for ten more exceptional songs. It's here at number 7, not just for its musical punch, but because it feels like a defining statement that sets the tone for everything that follows. Its impact and confidence mark the band's arrival, making it a landmark in both their career and modern post-punk. That's why it had to make the list.
It’s also worth noting just how influential ‘Big’ has proven to be. In the years since ‘Dogrel’, a wave of guitar bands have cited Fontaines D.C. as a primary reference point, and ‘Big’ is almost always the song they mention first. There’s a reason for that. It distils everything that makes the band compelling, the literary ambition, the physical urgency, the sense that something important is being said, into a form so concentrated it hits like a shot. Debut singles often feel like warm-ups. ‘Big’ felt like an arrival
Another one from 'Dogrel', arriving less than five minutes after 'Big', 'Too Real' is where Fontaines D.C. show you what they can really do. They grab your attention through all-consuming noise. The drums pulsate, and the guitars wail and screech, being commanded by the vocals. No, the other way around. Chatten paints a picture with his words. The instrumentation supports him.
The lyrics tumble over each other in a rush of images and impressions, streets, faces, voices, the particular texture of urban life rendered in short, sharp bursts. There’s a literary quality to the writing that connects Chatten to the Dublin poets he has cited as influences, but the delivery is anything but academic. It’s visceral, physical, lived-in. You don’t read these words so much as feel them land.
Despite the noise, the lyrics are sensitive, romance amid the brutality. Ragged delivery, screeching guitars, and military drums underpin a highly underrated song. Chatten’s lyrics are at their most stream-of-consciousness: images pile up, on the edge of collapse. That tension makes it compelling, capturing early Fontaines' rawness. I love 'Too Real', especially among album highlights like 'The Lotts' and 'Dublin City Sky', the latter connects them with The Pogues but is often overlooked.
'Desire' is another 'Romance' era track. Here, Fontaines are at their pop best, and the chorus provokes mass sing-alongs. It combines the atmosphere of 'Skinty Fia,' the post-punk drums of 'A Hero's Death,' and the poetry of 'Dogrel.' The result is something spectacular. There is no craven lunge for acceptance. Fontaines D.C. stick to their own terms.
‘Desire’ is the sound of a band who have absorbed everything: the post-punk roots, the gothic atmosphere of ‘Skinty Fia’, the orchestral ambitions of ‘Romance’, and synthesised it into something that feels effortless. The production, handled with care and precision, gives each element room to breathe while keeping the whole thing tightly coiled. Nothing is wasted. Every guitar line, every drum hit, every breath Chatten takes between phrases feels deliberate and considered.
Chatten's songwriting on 'Desire' and across 'Romance' captures life's duality. On 'Desire', his lines are truly brutal.
"I see them driving into nothing, where the nothing is sure
They drown their wishes in the fountain like their fathers before"
It's dark and foreboding, hitting like a gale force. This is songwriting of the highest order. But what elevates 'Desire' beyond its lyrics is the way the music amplifies every word. The verses simmer with a restrained tension — the guitars coil and the rhythm section locks in tight, before the chorus opens up into something vast and euphoric. That contrast is the engine of the song. When the release comes, it feels genuinely earned, which is why those sing-alongs feel so natural. It's not a pop song that tricks you into caring; it's one that builds the case methodically and musically. ‘Dublin City Sky’ is unlike anything else on ‘Dogrel’.
Where the rest of the album is driven by tension and momentum, this track settles into a gentle, unhurried sway. The acoustic guitar that anchors the song gives it a warmth that feels almost out of place after nine tracks of post-punk intensity, and yet it’s exactly right. It’s the sound of the same band, the same city, the same stories, but seen through softer eyes. The restraint is the point. After everything the album has put you through, a quiet song about love and belonging is the only honest way to end. lets you fall into it. By the time the song closes, you're not just listening, you're inside it.
'Dogrel' is a punk album. It's a collection of 10 songs that offer a storyteller's narrative and a snarling new vision of youthful disillusionment. It starts with a bold declaration and ends with an Irish drinking song. The ending is more in line with The Pogues than Joy Division or the Sex Pistols. The song highlights the band's escapist sentiment. It also paints a picture of their home city.
After 9 songs where you feel every blow, 'Dublin City Sky' feels like a comedown. The singer plies his rigid voice around a sensitive, romantic serenade. Though it doesn’t yet feel like a natural fit, the poignancy is undeniable. Lyrically, the song is nothing short of a masterpiece.
"As drunk as love is lethal, I spun a lady 'round
And I kissed her 'neath the waking of a Dublin City sky"
The portrayal of their home city is raw and vivid. You hear the sound of last orders. Final pints of Guinness are poured as friends and lovers are booted out onto the street. These lines tap into the rituals and fleeting moments that define Dublin nightlife, painting a picture of both warmth and melancholy. The city becomes a character, shaped by its pubs, streets, and people. There's pride and nostalgia, but also a bittersweet recognition of how change and hardship have marked the city. These lyrics reflect Fontaines D.C.'s complicated relationship with Dublin: they love it deeply, yet cannot ignore its struggles, from economic uncertainty to the ever-present sense of longing and loss. Through these vignettes, the band not only documents their surroundings but also expresses a longing for connection and belonging, feelings intertwined with what Dublin means to them.
"And in the foggy dew, I saw you throwing shapes around
It was underneath the waking of a Dublin City sky
And it all makes sour
To watch my lover wrap her arms around the flag of power
Hurry now, you will
To know you is to love you, and I love you even still
Ah, but we'll never truly be
We trip along disaster in the whirlwind of the free
Alltogether now."
The perfect end to a perfect album. What makes ‘Dublin City Sky’ so remarkable as a closer is that it earns its sentimentality. After nine songs that push and pull and demand your full attention, this one simply holds you. It doesn’t resolve the tension of ‘Dogrel’ so much as offer a quiet acceptance of it, a last drink, a last look at the city, a last breath before whatever comes next.
It’s the sound of a band that knew exactly what they were doing from the very first record, and it remains one of the most quietly devastating songs in their catalogue
Part glowing love song, part troubled revelation about the world we live in. All against a string-filled, hallucinatory haze. It's an expression of hopelessness in the modern world, influenced by artists like Lana Del Rey. Full of melancholy, but also a sense of hope. You cannot help but feel uplifted in the choruses. This troubled outlook on the world that the band live in has been present since the debut record.
But where those thoughts were previously surrounded by a wall of noise, the atmospheric, string-filled haze that envelops the band's new sound makes for an interesting listen. This track is about helplessness, the lack of enthusiasm and empathy, and our souls becoming numb due to the outside world’s pressures, as Chatten confesses, “I don’t feel anything, in the modern world, I don’t feel bad.”
The Lana Del Rey influence Chatten has cited is most audible here in the song’s sense of drift, the way it floats rather than drives, the way the melody seems to dissolve into the arrangement rather than cut through it. But Fontaines are never content to simply imitate. Chatten’s voice, rougher and more insistent than Del Rey’s dreamy detachment, keeps the song anchored in something raw and real. The result is a track that sounds like nothing else in their catalogue and in contemporary music.
This new sound creates a push-pull dynamic between contrasting elements. Bursts of lush orchestration are scuffed up by Chatten's raw, flinty voice, which is so distinctive, it's the definitive sound of Fontaines D.C. It also marks a significant step in the band's evolution, from the post-punk fury of 'Dogrel' to the gothic introspection of 'Skinty Fia', 'In The Modern World' represents something different again: a band willing to dissolve into atmosphere, to let the music breathe and swell in ways that would have felt unimaginable on 'Big' or 'Too Real'. That willingness to evolve without losing their identity is what separates Fontaines D.C. from their peers. This is Fontaines D.C.'s finest hour.
Some class 'Skinty Fia' as Fontaine's finest record, I'm not in the camp. I prefer both 'Romance' and 'Dogrel'. However, the second single from that album is one of their best and most important songs. It's heartbreaking, breathtaking and sees the band put themselves on a trial. Addressing their own worries and anxieties before addressing the young people of their native Ireland. A generation confused and full of rage.
The five-minute centrepiece opens with a Stone Roses-style bass rumble. The pace quickens as Chatten pinpoints the failings of Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael, the unelected coalition that has led the Irish government since 2020. He also nods to Ireland’s growing housing issues and high rates of youth suicide. “Flowers read like broadsheets / Every young man wants to die,” he repeats over thundering drums.
By honouring his generation’s rage, the track lets Chatten shout back at his politically dysfunctional home. He also contemplates the pain of leaving it behind. He sings about love and pride in being Irish, while feeling guilty for leaving and achieving success. He moved across the Atlantic to England, a country at the root of many issues in Ireland. Lyrically, this is Chatten's finest work. The lyrics are spectacular: bold, brave, beautiful, and at times brutally honest.
‘I Love You’ is extraordinary because it is both a political document and a deeply personal confession. Chatten is not writing as an outsider. He carries the weight of his country’s history in his body. He has benefited from leaving Ireland, but he knows the cost of departure. The guilt, love, and rage are all present. The song holds these emotions without resolution. It does not offer answers. It simply tells the truth, as clearly and painfully as possible.
There’s also something quietly devastating about the song’s title. ‘I Love You’, three words that could belong to a straightforward love song, are here redirected at an entire nation. At a place. At a people. At a history. The simplicity of the title, in contrast to the complexity of what the song contains, is one of the most striking aspects of it. Chatten loves Ireland the way you love something that has hurt you, something you can’t leave behind, even when you’ve physically left it. That tension between devotion and disillusionment, between pride and grief, is what gives the song its emotional core, and it’s what makes it resonate far beyond the specifics of Irish politics.
Musically, ‘I Love You’ matches the impressive quality of its lyrics. The Stone Roses-style bass lays a deceptively warm foundation, while the song gradually builds and darkens. Guitars layer in, moving from gentle chime to urgent turbulence. Drums thunder beneath Chatten’s repeated refrain, creating a controlled storm: loud, relentless, never chaotic. The band escalates the tension with discipline, intensifying the impact of the lyrics. The five-minute runtime never drags; the song earns every second.
"This island's run by sharks with children's bones stuck in their jaws”
A look at the darker side of Ireland, pointing directly to Ireland’s devastating church scandal, such as the discovery of mass graves at Mother and Baby Homes, where unmarried mothers and their children were hidden, mistreated, and in many cases left to die.
Is their mommy Fine Gael and is their daddy Fianna Fáil?”
Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil have dominated Irish politics since the 1930s. Though supposedly on opposite sides, many critics see them as two sides of the same coin: centrist, conservative, and complicit in maintaining inequality. By calling them “mommy” and “daddy,” Fontaines D.C. reduces them to parental figures who failed to nurture but instead passed down dysfunction.
"And they say they love the land, but they don’t feel it goes to waste. Hold a mirror to the youth, and they will only see their face.”
Ireland’s housing crisis is one of the most severe in Europe. It has pushed not just artists like Chatten and his bandmates abroad, but an entire generation of young people seeking stability. Between 2008 and 2014, social housing construction collapsed by 88%. This set off a chain reaction, making it nearly impossible to buy a first home. The average first-time buyer in 2024 is now 43. Meanwhile, a whole generation faces predatory rents.
The iconic line, “Selling genocide and half-cut pride,” sharply references a national scandal. An Irish historian revealed a cover-up: 796 children, buried in an unmarked grave in Tuam between 1925 and 1961. These children were from a home for single mothers and babies, women pregnant out of wedlock, sent to Catholic institutions until the 1980s. For the Irish, the event stained their morals and raised questions about the country's core values. It helps contextualise Chatten’s conflict with a nation he adores, though painfully.
This song is nothing short of a masterpiece. I remember hearing it for the first time and being blown away. It's unbelievable. On any other day, it might have topped my list. But as much as I admire its ambition and impact, I return more often to other songs. Those songs connect with me on a more personal or emotional level. For me, 'I Love You' is powerful and essential, but other tracks feel warmer, more comforting, or better aligned with my taste. That's what keeps it just shy of being my absolute favourite.
That said, ‘I Love You’ should not be understated in the context of Fontaines D.C.'s career. It's the moment the band fully stepped into the role of chroniclers, of their own experience and of a generation's. Songs this politically specific and honest are rare in any era. It is remarkable that it exists at all. A Dublin band reached this level of ambition and pulled it off completely. That is worth celebrating.
The final single from the third album, 'Skinty Fia', finds Grian Chatten reflecting on moving to London and embracing the city as an Irishman.
“‘Roman Holiday’ makes me think of the wide streets of North London in the summer and the urge to discover them at night time,” Chatten said of the song. “The thrill of being a gang of Irish people in London with a bit of a secret language and my first flat with my girlfriend.”
The single dives deeper into themes of identity and belonging. The lyrics celebrate the camaraderie the band found among Irish friends in London.
It's one of the best songs from 'Skinty Fia'. Musically, it sits in a different register to much of the album, looser, warmer, with a swaggering guitar line that feels almost celebratory. Where 'Skinty Fia' is often brooding and claustrophobic, 'Roman Holiday' has an openness, a sense of possibility. It captures the specific feeling of being young and displaced in a foreign city, finding your people and making it your own. That emotional clarity, combined with a melody that sticks immediately, makes it one of the most accessible entries in the band's catalogue without ever feeling like a compromise.
The song's video is also one of the band's most iconic. In the video, directed by Sam Taylor, Fontaines take on new monikers, including frontman Grian Chatten as Marty “Stir” Crazy and guitarist Conor Curley as David Leatherman. Together, the group take a blindfolded and tied-up teddy bear named Andy – aka Randy – hostage in the boot of a car, demanding “500 thousand in unmarked euros” for his return.
Favourite’ is a song that sees Fontaines D.C. looking both backwards and forwards at once. The band themselves describe it as having “this never-ending sound to it, a continuous cycle from euphoria to sadness, two worlds spinning forever,” and that sentiment is mirrored in the music. The track is built around a chiming guitar riff reminiscent of The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’, a bright, nostalgic figure that carries an undercurrent of melancholy. It feels like one of the band’s most traditional songs, yet the atmosphere it creates is unusually radiant, a sound tailor-made for the summer months.
Sonically, ‘Favourite’ operates in a space that feels entirely its own. Producer James Ford, who has worked with Arctic Monkeys and Depeche Mode, brings a clarity and warmth to the recording that suits the song’s emotional register perfectly. The mix is open and spacious, allowing each element to sit without crowding the others. The drums have a gentle, almost hesitant quality that keeps the track from ever feeling triumphant in a conventional sense. This isn’t a song that punches the air; it’s one that quietly fills the room. The bass underpins everything with a steady, reassuring pulse, and the guitars shimmer and chime around Chatten’s vocal without ever competing with it. It’s a masterclass in restraint.
Lyrically, ‘Favourite’ is among the band’s strongest works to date. While their last record, ‘Skinty Fia’, marked a leap forward in poetic ambition, particularly on tracks like ‘I Love You’, this new song feels even more distilled and direct in its emotional clarity. Lines such as “Each new day I get another year older” and “Every time you blink you feel a change” capture the dizzying speed of time and the disorientation that comes with constant evolution. Elsewhere, Fontaines nod to political and cultural memory: the mistreatment of the working class in Thatcher’s Britain, the alienation of gentrification, and the bittersweet ache of homesickness felt when returning to a changed Ireland after years of touring. The lyric “Cities on return are often strange” encapsulates that sense of dislocation with understated power.
What makes ‘Favourite’ stand out is the way it holds all of these threads together, the personal and political, the nostalgic and the immediate, without ever feeling weighed down. It’s a song about memory and belonging, but also about moving forward, finding beauty in impermanence, and holding onto the things that truly matter. For a band who built their reputation on urgency and confrontation, ‘Favourite’ is a remarkable thing; it’s Fontaines D.C. at their most open, most generous, most human. It doesn’t demand anything from you. It just invites you in.
It’s also, I think, the song that best captures why Fontaines D.C. matter in the first place. Not because they’re angry, though they are. Not because they’re literary, though they are. But because underneath all of that, the post-punk fury, the political conscience, the poetic ambition, there is a genuine tenderness. Care for the world and the people in it.
‘Favourite’ is the purest expression of that tenderness, and it’s why, after everything, it sits at the top of this list. Not because it’s the loudest, or the most politically charged, or the most technically impressive thing they’ve ever done, but because it makes you feel something quietly enormous. That’s the hardest trick in music to pull off, and they make it sound effortless.
Fontaines D.C. are one of the most important bands to emerge in the last decade, and lists like this are ultimately a reminder of just how deep their catalogue runs. From the raw, scrappy urgency of ‘Big’ to the orchestral tenderness of ‘Favourite’, they have covered more ground in a handful of records than most bands manage in a career. Every album has represented a genuine step forward, not a reinvention for its own sake, but a natural evolution driven by curiosity, ambition, and an unwillingness to repeat themselves.
What makes them so compelling and so enduring is that the core of what they do has never changed. The literary instinct, the emotional honesty, the sense that every song is being written because it absolutely has to be, that remains constant across everything from ‘Dogrel’ to ‘Romance’. They are a band who take their craft seriously without ever losing the feeling that music is urgent, alive, and necessary.
This list will inevitably change. Songs that didn’t make it, ‘Boys In The Better Land’, with its furious, breathless energy and its unforgettable closing chant; ‘I Don’t Belong’, one of the most emotionally raw things the band have ever recorded; ‘Nabokov’, a song that distils the literary ambition of early Fontaines into something almost unbearably concentrated; ‘Starburster’, the explosive, disorienting opener to ‘Romance’ that announced a new era with all the force of a starting pistol; ‘The Lotts’, a slow-burning highlight that showcases the band’s more atmospheric, Joy Division-influenced side; ‘Sha Sha Sha’, a fan favourite that captures the restless energy of early Fontaines at its most infectious; and ‘Jackie Down The Line’, one of the most propulsive and immediately gripping tracks from ‘Skinty Fia’, could all easily find their way in on another day, in another mood. That’s the mark of a truly great discography: one where the cuts are as good as the highlights, where the argument about what belongs is never quite settled.
Fontaines D.C. have built exactly that kind of body of work, and they show no sign of stopping. Whatever comes next, it’s safe to say it will be worth paying close attention to.