By Will Bishop

Do you ever feel as if your whole existence is spent within a revolving house of mirrors? Like every person, every object, every single thing you think of, is simply spitting your own self-image back at you. Trapped in endless feedback loops of vanity and meager gratifications. Irish post-punk band Fontaines D.C. dive headfirst into this breed of hyperdigital malaise on their latest effort, the aptly named Dopamine Chamber. Having slingshotted to stratospheric heights in the wake of their previous album, 2024’s Romance, the group found themselves poised for the closest thing to a global takeover any modern guitar band could hope to achieve. With a stadium tour on the horizon in 2027, it was time to see if they could harness a stadium sound. But the question remained — is that really what they want?

The band’s answer is murky to say the least, while Dopamine Chamber is striving for a “bigger” sound than any prior release, it is also very self-contained, insular and odd. There’s a pervasive self-consciousness to the project, as if the group is afraid that swinging too hard will break the spell, while knowing full well that if they don’t swing hard enough, they might not get another chance.

The album starts strong with “Six Shot Morning,” its opening synth gurgles like oily soap bubbles full of lasers. As frontman Grian Chatten’s signature baritone echoes over the plasmatic soundscape, the track opens up piece by piece. Each evolution heralded by one simple refrain, “Always.” It’s precisely the sort of sharp-focus additive repetition that the band has always employed to excellent effect. Chatten finally cuts loose with that altered “Always,” stabbing it through with one single glass shard of his soul, synths glisten to life and a resting inner opulence reveals itself — as if it was lurking somewhere below the entire time. A catharsis you always knew was waiting for you.

Tracks like “Mimesis” demonstrate that the band’s exploratory proclivities remain in full effect, evoking a darkwave-tinged spin on New Order. “Happy For You,” much like “Favorite” off their previous album, serves as a reminder that the band is often at its most potent when writing a full-hearted love song.

Alas, on tracks like “One Man,” the weaknesses of the project reveal themselves. While the core writing is strong, it fails to build on itself and feels rather precisely like a trite attempt at a Y2K-inflected anthemic ballad. “Japan” is another one which never quite makes it off the ground, languishing in necrotic britpop and loosely hinted at psychedelia. It’s a song which exists in better forms elsewhere and does little to justify itself within the album’s overall concept.

Still, amid all the various relationships portrayed throughout the album, it does succeed in slowly making its broader point. Isolation enforced through companionship, mechanical assumed happiness, licking the dopamine straight off the skin, so desperate and hungry. Contemporary sterility engendering a need for flesh against the metal until the flesh becomes the metal. “Baby, if it’s real there’s no way I’m going back to how I feel.” But in a world of bottomless unreality, what’s really real?

Bio: Will Bishop is a reporter and copy editor. He can be reached at wmb84@humboldt.edu or via dynamic encounter in the wild.