The Roundhouse almost couldn’t contain the sound. On the eve of the release of their fifth album, Dopamine ChamberFontaines DC staged a charity show in conjunction with suicide prevention organization CALM at a 1,500-seat London venue, an underrated game for Irish musicians. The crowd’s urgency was palpable, a desire for closeness to the band and their music that threatened to engulf the room entirely.
Sitting on the balcony, I saw someone in a balaclava running wild with enthusiasm. There was a man with devil horns at the front of the crowd – befitting the band’s increasingly devious sound, and perhaps a nod to the ones guitarist Carlos O’Connell was wearing in recent press photos. The stage was adorned with a giant FTDC sign, which glowed different colors during the show, and a giant silver curtain that looked like a big piece of waving foil.
It’s been a fascinating journey watching the quintet evolve from gray post-punk to neon new wave. Dopamine Chamber is not euphoric as its title suggests. It extends the cinematic expansion from 2024 Romancebut without as many pop release moments as “Starburster”, “Bug” or “Favourite”. “Mimesis” comes closest: industrial noises and tinsel synths herald an exciting new direction, only for the lyrics to turn that rush into something menacing. “The eternal now/Eternity is real” feels less like a promise and more like a curse.
Or Romance made abandonment almost excessively exciting, Dopamine Chamber removes the illusion. His synths sparkle, his voice drifts and his songs seem to dissolve into a Lynchian dreamscape. But the longer you stay there, the less inviting it becomes. Pleasure turns into paranoia. It’s music that dazzles you until you realize you’re in the dark.
The album is good, and I am personally happy to see them lingering on this territory where melancholic synths and soaring songs swirl like the Northern Lights. And for a moment I’m swept away by the luxury of it all, the nihilistic possibility or “dream fog” on the stunning “Marianne” and follow-up album highlight “Mimesis.” But this dizziness is only attractive for a certain amount of time. As the album progresses, the electricity of fuzzy keyboards resembles laughing faces, and the project begins to panic. It’s an album that dazzles you until you’re in the shadows. The desire explored here, with promises of “living a million years” and eternity, feels like sinister threats. It may not be their most ambitious project, but it seems successful in its conciseness.
After the suffocating density of Dopamine Chamberthe physicality of the live show felt like a reprieve. Around me, people were digging their Converse into the ground, screaming and throwing themselves into the music. The album’s morbid fixation on permanence has given way to something fleeting and immediate, the pleasure of being here, together, now.
The same could be said of the literal vitality of the group. Singer Grian Chatten balanced the roles of jester and showman. Sometimes he raised his arms in a V, commanding the crowd to cheer but looking like a proud conductor. Other times he roamed the stage, his lithe prancing with eager vengeance. Still other times, he would let the microphone stand hit the floor aggressively or throw his tambourine to the ground like someone throwing a piece of gum into the street. Tom Coll’s drumming was impeccable. It was precious to see live band member Chilli Jesson dancing intently while manning the keyboards at one point.
There was hardly any chatter from the group. They focused solely on the music, with Chatten announcing when new songs were being played. “You Miss Me” and “Mimesis” were debuted live. And there was a shout out to Jack Rooke. The members swapped instruments throughout the set, transforming the band into something fluid and constantly reorganizing. Coll remained behind the kit, his drum huge and unwavering. The set primarily highlighted the new album, although they chose not to play “Demolition” and closer “Intimate” – an unfortunate omission, although it’s understandable to leave out such a death-obsessed track in favor of a suicide prevention organization.
The contrast of the newer material hits harder when mixed with their older hits. “Big Shot” sounded so good, between “Japan” and “Happy For You”. The sound in the room felt like some songs were expanding like steam – the reverb of “Only One Man” is so frightening live compared to the record – while others were distorting. The synths in “Japan” were extremely loud.
The most exciting moments of the set came when the band slipped into other musical worlds. The opening melody of The Replacements’ “Unsatisfied” surfaced before “Jackie Down The Line,” followed by the unmistakable twinkle of Angelo Badalamenti. Twin Peaks theme. Even the closing “Starburster” began with a fragment of “In Heaven” from the David Lynch film. Eraser head. These pockets of references extended the band’s fascination with the strange, making the concert feel like another doorway into the dream logic of Dopamine Chamber.
Instead of focusing on death, the night was about moving forward in life. The evening’s main set ended with Rosalía’s big collaboration “Where Is Gone”, a moving choice even without Rosalía. “It’s just the start of another show to hurt you/And make you feel alive” is the closing line of the song. Chatten’s soft, low voice made the last word a mystery.
The band’s official biography for the new album explains how overstimulation and the world’s growing desire to become beautifully permanent fueled the strange clash of emotions on Dopamine Chamber. The oversaturation of information – vacillating between terrifying and entertaining – makes everything feel empty.
This idea is a stained silk shroud that hangs over Dopamine Chamberan album where the promise of eternity seems less like a salvation than a threat. At the Roundhouse, however, the group made a compelling case to the contrary: that feeling alive means accepting the possibility of an end. No one in this crowd needed to live forever. For a few hours, being there was enough.
Dopamine Chamber is available now via XL.
Gn entert
