It’s the third afternoon in another string of sweltering days in Los Angeles. A recent Friday offers no salvation for the weekend ahead besides sitting in front of a fan or turning up the air conditioning.
Thankfully, standing inside the climate-controlled walls of the Line hotel’s lobby and behind a cup of joe from its Alfred Coffee, there’s a smidgen of comfort.
The bell to the ground floor elevator rings and out steps a tall figure, wearing an all-black ensemble. His shorts hang just below his knees, his hair is a bit messy and his boots climb up his calf.
Grian Chatten looks remarkably cool for someone who’s just rolled out of bed, even more so for someone who has a performance at Hollywood Forever Cemetery later that night. He’s the leading man behind Fontaines D.C., a Dublin-born rock quintet that’s become one of the most exciting acts to grace a stage today.
And how couldn’t they be?
Their 2019 debut, “Dogrel,” was met with critical acclaim, a masterful album with references to James Joyce and a teeming garage-style production. Fast-forward five years later and their fourth effort, “Romance,” became their first to chart in the United States, reaching No. 97 on the Billboard 200.
Nowadays, they’re kicking up dust again with the release of “Dopamine Chamber,” which came out last Friday via XL Recordings. Its a continuation of the precedent they’ve set in terms of lyrical and sonic quality, but simultaneously is far more melancholic and synthesized than their previous work.
“Dopamine Chamber” is the band’s fifth release, following the success of “Romance” back in 2024.
(Ewen Spencer)
However, its rollout was rocky as the debut music video “Marianne” was criticized for its use of artificial intelligence. When the psychedelic, entrancing recording first hit YouTube, it listed a credit for AI “artists” in its description, sounding alarms among the band’s loyal fan base.
After all, it was widely viewed as contradictory of the group, which has been vehemently outspoken on various contemporary issues, including what the U.N. Human Rights Council has officially concluded to be genocide in Gaza.
We sat down with Chatten to discuss the new album, as well as some of the backlash the band has recently faced.
Tell me about this album title. Is it a literal happiness chamber?
It was me [who came up with it] because it originated as a line in a song, and the song never made it onto the album. We kept the pairing of words “dopamine chamber.”
I wanted to make it a bit more literary. Turns out that the dopamine chamber … it’s where they put rats to test different chemicals or in order to check their dopamine levels. We found that out after.
So it’s fake happiness.
It’s almost like nonconsensual happiness. I mean, if that exists.
Do you ever feel like that in life? Like you’re like forced to be happy with everything bleak that’s going on?
I think we force ourselves to feel a certain happiness every now and then, just so we can compartmentalize things and go about our day. I think that’s a survival mechanism, anyway. But to lose that is dangerous.
This album is a lot more synthesized than your previous work. “Six Short Morning” and “Mimesis” definitely stand out there.
It made sense, thematically. I felt that those textures signaled … I hate using the word “dystopian,” but the dystopian future. I wanted the album to feel more like an advanced version of “Romance,” where the body of the record had become more bionic. There’s a reason that there are so many strings and cinematic stuff, that’s the organic world that I wanted to draw on — people like Mina, the ‘60s singer from Italy.
The acoustic sounds are, of course, still present.
They’re supposed to be kind of like fighting for space, a little bit.
One track that stuck out to me was “Happy for You,” because of it’s insincere flattery. Who or what do you have in mind when you write songs like that?
It’s a bit like [R.E.M.’s] “Shiny Happy People,” it’s a similar function. That song is a jealousy of other people’s happiness or well-adjustedness.
I noticed those internal struggles show up a lot on this album. On “One Man,” are you singing about feeling the weight of many?
I think that’s more about the general existential feeling of helplessness in the face of things that are happening in the world. I’ve got a really good friend called Nikolaj Schultz, do you know him?
No idea.
He’s a sociologist and philosopher, and he writes mostly about the environment, the Anthropocene, and he’s written a couple of books with the French philosopher Bruno Latour, who passed away [in 2022]. He’s someone who’s strapped to their bed and feels away the world from morning to night.
That was a profound influence on “Romance” and on this album. So I think “One Man” pertains to that, maybe even to him.
It seems like you are heavily inspired by literature, more so than other artists would be by just general music and listening.
I think in literature, I can understand sometimes what the point is in what they’re writing. For example, this Schultz book “Land Sickness,” the style of it is to render the audience sensitive to this issue just by the osmosis of showing how much it affects you. Like, my mom got me into music by showing me how much it affected her.
How did the feature with Rosalía come about for “Where Is Gone?”
Well, this is our first feature. Carlos [O’Connell], our guitarist, grew up in Spain and had been listening to her first couple of records. Then we got into “Motomami” together and it became a fixture to listen to it backstage before our shows. When “Lux” came out, we were all quite obsessed with it.
We were four days out from mixing or from mastering the album, and Carlos rang me. He was like, “I think we’d be mistaken to not just send Rosalía something and see if she’d be interested.”
We sent her four tracks. We sent her “Where Is Gone?,” “One Man,” “Tongue,” and I can’t remember what the other one was. She got back within 48 hours with a full vocal of “Where Is Gone?”
You weren’t in the studio together?
She was on tour. She was in Miami at the time.
What happened with “Marianne?” There was a moment where it was credited to AI “artists.” Then it was corrected to be effects artists.
I woke up at like 5:30 a.m. the day after the video came out, and I saw an article that said there was AI used in the video, and I called our management, and I was like, “What the f—, is this true?” and it turned out that there was some AI used in like the workflow or the postproduction.
So all those main scenes and main effects and stuff were VFX and prosthetics, like the cheeks and everything. Over 110 people worked on the thing. It was a real huge human effort. But then somewhere in the process, someone from the VFX team I guess used some kind of AI in the workflow. And none of us were told about it. Apparently, not even our label or our management were told about it and it was a real shock.
Yeah, it seemed like you guys didn’t know.
Of course. I mean, we’re gonna have it written into our contracts going forward that like it can’t be in our music videos. You know what I mean? I don’t condone it.
I think a lot of people were shocked just because you guys are so active in contemporary issues, which AI certainly is.
It’s so f— ironic. No, very contradictory. The themes of the f— album as well. I was hoping to talk about how I felt about AI in interviews at some point anyway, and then this kind of pulled the rug from under that conversation a little bit.
It just f— sucked.
Well, how do you feel about AI?
I think it’s f— terrifying. I was watching a Robin Williams scene from “Dead Poets Society” when he talks about poetry, literature. These are the things that we stay alive for, and well, that’s exactly what AI threatens to rob from the human race.
I’ve seen those articles about those guys who are leaving AI companies because they said that the human race is going to be dead within 10 years. AI is literally rendering our souls obsolete and I think that is true death.
A lot of people say, “It’s here, we have to deal with it.”
We should just shut it off.
It always ends here. Every conversation [about AI] just ends grim. This is like every conversation with my dad over the last three years about it. It makes it tough to be alive, doesn’t it?