Oasis might be back, but Fontaines DC have the best frontman in the world
“There was a period of time when he was the greatest singer in the world, added to that the greatest frontman,” Noel Gallagher said of brother Liam in the Oasis documentary Supersonic. And quite frankly, there is no arguing with him. There was undoubtedly a period of time when Liam’s influence on music was undeniably god-like. Part confrontational, part sensitive, he was the working-class songbird who, amidst the chaotic vibrance of ‘Cool Britannia’, brought crystallised meaning to the idea of life. For a time, he was the greatest. But that time isn’t now.
You may think it is, though, as the Mancunian brothers drench the UK’s biggest stadiums with their catalogue of anthemic classics. And if the footage of their opening shows proves anything, it’s that Liam has been putting in the hours on his vocals. He’s been borderline flawless, and despite the inevitability of life’s changing times, he’s somehow managed to capture the youthful energy that laced the vocal takes of Oasis’ first two albums.
But as ‘Champagne Supernova’ leaked through the cracks of Cardiff’s Principality Stadium, what I would argue as more important history was being made 150 miles east. Capping off a truly seismic album campaign in Romance, Fontaines DC played their biggest and most important show to date in London’s Finsbury Park.
At times, it was hard to fathom how this band of misfit poets had leapt from the humble days of Dublin’s Workman’s Club to the grandest stage Britain’s capital has to offer. Not because of their greatness, for that was immediately noticeable from the earliest shows I caught, but for what they represented. Viewed through the lens of Oasis’ impact, Fontaines DC offer something more poetically dense, compositionally diverse and visually divisive, and thus seemed consigned to the subcultures of alternative venues for the foreseeable future.
Because, how could the twisting lyrics of Irish identity or song titles inspired by Ulysses galvanise the arm-in-arm crowds of everyday people? Well, partly because of the complexity of our modern societal landscape, but largely because of the vehicle through which they are presented to us. A figurehead of the band who, in the 12 months since Romance’s thunderous impact on music, has grown into the greatest frontman on the planet: Grian Chatten.
As I bundled ever closer to the Finsbury Park mainstage on Saturday night, the catwalk-like set design grew ever bigger. A standalone walkway for the pensive frontman to inhabit felt innately contradictory to the entire idea of the band to this point. Not only were they a collective, but they were custodians of the music, devoid of the glitz and glamour that runways offer to commercial action figures like Harry Styles and Taylor Swift. Chatten was our treasured antidote to that nonsense, and so I wondered, in fact, I worried, how would this work?
This was an artist who, on previous tours, had frantically paced up and down the stage, trying to embrace every element of stardom we had drawn out for him with tentative ease, for his commitment remained solely to his poetry, not performance.
But it was in that essence that always lay the genius. In the eyes of music’s most compelling poet was a subtle air of tragedy that gave these otherwise heavy lyrical musings a sense of universal gravitas. Yes, Romance was cleverly marketed to a wider, more commercial audience, but that’s not why 75% of the 45,000-strong crowd were there. They were there proudly singing from their chest, a chest that had been indelibly scarred by music that, from 2019 onwards, has pierced through the falsity of modern life.
“I write all day, every day. When I’m in the thick of it, it’s a struggle to focus on anything else”
Grian Chatten
So, it was understandable that in the band’s infancy, Chatten could have mistaken the stage for an echo chamber, questioning whether his detailed outlook on the world was a shared one. Now, four albums down and five years later, he’s fully aware it is, and has no hesitation in sharing it onstage.
From the very second he sets foot on stage, be it to the haunting chimes of ‘Romance’ or the heady chaos of ‘Here’s The Thing’, he fully inhabits the role of our fearless leader. He doesn’t break stride to share a smile, gratitude or appreciation for the moment and instead fills those setlist silences with languid movements, anxious clawings at his clothes or pensive stares into the crowd. It’s hard to fully describe why it’s so captivating, for it’s part mercurial, part relatable, but inspiringly resolute. It’s almost as though in this broken society, Chatten stands as the messiah of a hopefully dystopic reality contextualised by the music.
And so, as he walked down the Finsbury Park runway, gliding on top of the shoulders of a sea of devoted fans, it no longer seemed daunting. It shrunk into his kilt pocket, where he made it his willing partner in a show that inspired a crowd whose emotional intelligence was crafted by the poesy of the band’s discography.
Because the writing has always been there for Fontaines DC, that’s for sure. It was the most bulletproof element of their sound from the very first note of Dogrel, but the showmanship was understandably tentative. But, now, as we stand in front of the group, harmonising their lyrics of social consciousness, Chatten can comfortably stand on the edge of the precipice, rightly assuming his role as the frontman for our generation.
In trying times, it’s easy to steer into the comfort of nostalgia porn, and herald Liam Gallagher as the saviour of modern society. He does indeed represent something romantic of a time now lost. But it is that very contextual impact that enables him to stand 30 years on from Oasis’ first release and be worshipped. If you want to feel the purest form of that essence and not second-generation replicas, join Fontaines DC in a movement forward, for they are being driven by a once-in-a-lifetime figurehead.
