REVIEW: FONTAINES DC @ HOUSE OF BLUES 10/6
By: Josephine Best
After realizing the opener wasn’t wearing shoes, I searched for a more welcoming sight. Looking up, I saw Fontaines DC, frontman Grian Chatten in the rafters. Inside a hole in the wall, he leaned on the railing, drink in hand, bobbing his head to the tune and maybe sizing up the crowd, making a game plan, or enjoying the music. Occasionally other Fontaines DC members would appear through the smokey opening and join Chatten before they disappeared altogether.
It wasn’t long before they returned to view. Illuminated by the colors of the Irish flag, they waltzed on the stage. Chatten’s nonchalant sway mimicked that of Liam Gallagher. His hands swung widely by his side as his hips jutted forward.
He accessorized with a bouquet of blood-red roses in his hand, a reference to their “Jackie Down The Line” music video. Chatten glided to the edge of the stage, and as he leaned off the tall speakers, he precariously tossed the flowers into the crowd, one at a time.
With no time for introductions; guitarist Conor Curley mimicked the sound of radio static with his instrument, introducing “A Lucid Dream.” Chatten choked the mic stand, throttling it as the rest of the track’s intro came into place. Immediately, it became apparent that their live performance was distinct from their recorded sessions. The songs were sped up, almost to the point of being unable to sing along. Chatten began his notable “sing speaking,” which promptly left the audience breathless trying to keep up.
Chatten was mindful of the congregation and welcomed them to join another way. As guitarist Carlos O’Connell slashed the gritty notes to begin “Hurricane Laughter,” Chatten composed the crowd. He motioned for a split in the tightly packed venue. His arms flailed until the mob understood his directions, eventually forming an empty crater in the center of the mass. The space didn’t stay lonesome for long. When drummer Tom Coll came into play, the hole swallowed itself up.
The congregation was displaced after being thrown around in the mosh. A loose mob member rammed into my side and gripped onto the railing in front of me, trying to claim my front-row spot. As a bruise began forming on my back from the arm perched on my ribs, my mind was calmed as Fontaines DC drifted into their darker songs from their newest album, “Skinty Fia.” Chatten stood to croon “Roman Holiday” atop one of the box speakers while clutching the mic stand. As the second verse ended, the crowd harmonized for the loudest moment of the evening. When the line “when they knock for ya, don’t forget who you are” ended, the congregation belted, “SKINTY FIA!” An Irish phrase was somehow the most unifying moment for an American crowd.
After the melancholy songs were played, the mosh pit wasn’t allowed to rest for too long. You could feel knees preparing to jump when Curley began to quicken his strum, and “Chequeless Reckless” announced itself. Chatten swung the mic stand around in a circle before joining in, “A SELLOUT IS SOMEONE WHO BECOMES A HYPOCRITE IN THE NAME OF MONEY!” The inflamed mob threw themselves against each other while joining in the chanting lines. When the song came to a lyric break, Chatten stepped back from the mic, bouncing on his feet and shaking his hands, preparing to step back into the sound.
When Fontaines DC finally stepped off the stage, they interrupted the heartbeat of the venue. They closed the set with their perkiest song, “Jackie Down the Line,” before exiting the stage. The crowd was impatient for an encore, and shouts immediately erupted. Quintessential Irish and British sports chants filled the smokey room. First, it was “OLAY, OLAY, OLAY!” Then it morphed into, “OGGY! OGGY! OGGY!” with the reply, “OI! OI! OI!”
The whining had eventually tired the crowd, and their voices quelled just before Fontaines DC walked back onto the stage, and then the cries detonated again. Chatten addressed the mass for only the second time that night. Short and simple “thank yous” were given before they began “Boys In the Better Land.” Chatten readied himself with a tambourine in hand as O’Connell rang in the song. While getting pummeled by drifters from the mosh, the girls next to me yanked out a sign they had been clutching all night: “The GIRLS in the better land!” Curley stretched his hand out to point and grinned at the gesture before noticing the guy behind me in an Irish soccer jersey. He raised his guitar, twisting it back to showcase his sticker, which twinned the crowd member’s shirt. Those 30 seconds were the most interactive he had been all night.
The congregation’s pulse was high after screaming alongside Chatten, “IF YOU’RE A ROCK STAR, PORN STAR, SUPER STAR / DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU ARE / GET YOURSELF A GOOD CAR, GET OUT OF HERE!” But now it was time to lower that heartbeat with the solemn beginning of “I Love You.” Bassist Conor Deegan began with the sidestepping chords, which opened the song before O’Connell and Curley joined in. Once again, Chatten sped up the words but also axed his accent. The Irish twang which hovered over certain words had evaporated. Words like “terty” became “thirty.” An ironic thing to do in a tune that stands as an angry love letter to Ireland. When he reached the chorus, he spoke with such rapidity that I stood in amazement at his lungs while I gasped for air. He sprinted to the end of the lyrics before sluggishly ending the chorus, holding the note, “Would I lie?”
A tune that screams and sprints, loves and hates, and wails, “Say it to him fifty times, and still, the bastard won’t cry,” threw the audience’s emotions into a tumble dryer. The last song of the night left you juxtaposed with feelings of satisfaction and yearning.
The choice of such a track to close the night was no accident. Chatten had made precise calculations of the crowd while observing from the rafters before the performance. Fontaines DC concocted a perfect mixture to serve up to the hungry mass. Then slipped back into the smoke from a job well done.