FONTAINES D.C.

2022 POST-PUNK

Skinty Fia is the third studio album from big league British Isles post-punkers Fontaines D.C. initially I wasn’t going to review this. My feelings on the band’s last effort were far less than rosy and it was pretty clear just a few tracks in that they hadn’t righted the ship. Hell, I sat through the whole thing and when it was finished I moved onto the next recent release without much of a thought. Then the next day I was looking through my news feed and saw a publication flying some exaggerated title praising the band as the greatest thing currently plugged into an amp. I didn’t think much of it, there are always these big publication assholes who will hand out five star reviews to any schmuck they think will generate them clicks. After another two popped up I was given serious pause, but it wasn’t until I googled to see the track listing and personnel that I was truly confused. There were tons of rave reviews. The usual questions came to mind. What was I missing? What were they getting? Who’s the clueless one?

Quite frankly no matter what angle taken I remain flabbergasted. Stylistically it’s largely the same as their prior album A Hero’s Death. Back then they played shockingly generic post-punk that was often slow and moody with the occasional attempt at a catchy rager. Now they’ve narrowed the selection to only the dreary stuff. Lyrically it’s mostly lukewarm poetry that’s vague enough to mean something to anyone except for when they reach for the records namesake. That’s right, Skinty Fia. It roughly translates to “damnation of the deer” in Irish which thematically comes through a couple songs about the desperate state of Ireland. It’s an underutilized concept and despite being one of the only highlights is not without its problems. Nothing else is especially worthwhile. There are no earworm hooks, there are no intriguing instrumentals, and there is no passion whether fiery or grief-stricken. There is just shamelessly unoriginal post-punk that is completely unaware of what made their contemporaries good in the first place. 

Don’t be fooled by the opener’s Irish name as its lyrics are a banal stream of repetition that only means anything if it is directly explained to you. 

She defines the only reason
For feeling
All in all is all we tailor
And they always have the best
And she defines the only reason
For feeling, ah, ah

If you could guess that this is about a woman not being able to have a specific phrase on her tombstone I’d like you to teach me the long range telepathy you used to read the bands collective mind. The serene backing vocals that start it off are nice but they are quickly overridden by the leads, still as wooden as ever. It ramps up slowly but the only payoff is the laughable “ah ah” at the end of the verse. The next two tracks barely have a pulse, they feel like someone trying to explain what trudging around on a rainy night in a haze is like but without having experienced it.

The easy task of following them up is up to the lead single Jackie Down The Line whose instrumental is a bit better with lively acoustic guitar and a marginally more interesting lyrical take about being a typical dirt bag. When you mix it all together with a lifeless chorus you get another song that’s as flat as a dried up lake bed, and yet radiates life like an oasis compared to what’s ahead in Bloomsday and Roman Holiday. Even if you have no idea who Joy Division are, any perceived novelty of originality must have worn off by now. These songs are a slog. 

The shocker of the listing comes in The Couple Across The Way which is wholly played on an accordion or concertina. A cute idea that would have been perfect in a two minute long track. This one is twice that and features a tale of a bickering couple that would be better if the vocal flow wasn’t awkwardly crammed to fit the melody. Each extended syllable sounds like the singer is trailing off due to a lack of interest. In this time of dire need we get the two best tracks beginning with the title track. The band gets verbose atop a speedy groove but don’t get excited they stick to their nocturnal tendencies. A lot of the prose of hard luck and bad circumstances go right through me but there are some lines that strike a chord.

Heard he took ‘em all down to the mercenary bar
I heard she broke up with her fella, now he’s drinkin’ in his car, nah
I’m not inclined towards the scandalous word
But on the subject of myself, I do believe what I’ve heard

Then there’s I Love You which on initial inspection had me worried that it would be a love and lose snoozer. Nope, its love letter to the disillusioned Irish youth beaten down by their capital driven seniors. These are positive directions for the band but not enough to dig them out of the mediocre songwriting. That and the build up of tension on the verse that despite all past experiences has me pumped for the vitriol to really start, for them to really tell it to these pricks, but no the climax dribbles out of a sedated mouth. All that to go right back to their worst inclinations for the closer Nabokov. For good news the backing vocals from the opener are back along with a noisy undercurrent of guitar to give a bit of textural variety. Once again though the songwriting sucks the energy out of its listener while the singer delivers his now signature bored shouts. The lyrics of a subservient relationship are meant to mimic that of its namesake author but honestly I don’t see it and regardless of context its not compelling.

That’s really the whole issue, Skinty Fia is not compelling. Every time it passes through my ears it makes less sense than the last. The only thing I could imagine the average listener sees in its tacky wallpaper of gloom and general inoffensiveness is how cool it must be to be sad amongst the concrete of Dublin or London. How that single thought could get someone through forty-five minutes of drudgery is a mystery. 

3/10

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