When Fontaines D.C. released A Hero’s Death in 2020, they found themselves in a precarious position—one that many great bands encounter after a groundbreaking debut. Their 2019 album, Dogrel, had catapulted them to the forefront of post-punk’s modern resurgence, earning widespread acclaim for its raw, poetic depiction of Dublin life. But rather than double down on the youthful energy and anthemic urgency of their first record, A Hero’s Death took a different route: one of introspection, disillusionment, and sonic restraint.
In many ways, this album is a reaction to the whirlwind of their own success. Frontman Grian Chatten and his bandmates—Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan III, and Tom Coll—found themselves grappling with the pressures of touring, industry expectations, and a growing disconnect from their roots. The result is a record that swaps Dogrel’s pub-stomp swagger for something more brooding, textured, and, at times, unnervingly meditative.
The artistic intent behind A Hero’s Death is one of self-exploration and defiance against external narratives. The album’s lead single and title track, with its hypnotic repetition of “Life ain’t always empty,” acts as both a mantra and a bitter irony—a pushback against the commodification of happiness and the hollow reassurances of fame. Throughout the record, Fontaines D.C. reject the idea of being pigeonholed, both musically and personally, crafting an album that is as much about resisting expectations as it is about embracing uncertainty.
Sonic Exploration
If Dogrel was a brash, unfiltered snapshot of Dublin’s streets, A Hero’s Death feels like the sound of walking those same streets at dusk—introspective, moody, and slightly disoriented. This shift in tone is underscored by a deliberate evolution in production and musical arrangement, making the album feel more brooding and spacious than its predecessor.
Production Quality
Produced by Dan Carey (known for his work with post-punk contemporaries like Black Midi and Squid), A Hero’s Death trades the sharp immediacy of Dogrel for something more atmospheric and subdued. The production is neither overly polished nor aggressively lo-fi; instead, it lands in a sweet spot that amplifies the album’s themes of disillusionment and fatigue. The mix allows for a rich layering of instruments, with reverb-soaked guitars, hypnotic basslines, and Chatten’s signature baritone given room to breathe. Tracks like “I Don’t Belong” and “Sunny” embrace a cavernous, almost eerie spaciousness, making them feel like echoes from a half-remembered dream.
This production style serves the album’s existential undercurrents. Where Dogrel was punchy and defiant, A Hero’s Death leans into a feeling of weariness, as if the band is pushing against a tide of monotony and expectation. The sound isn’t bombastic; it’s immersive, pulling listeners into its murky depths rather than hitting them over the head with direct statements.
Musical Arrangements
Instrumentally, A Hero’s Death strips away some of Dogrel’s driving, in-your-face energy in favor of repetition, restraint, and subtlety. The guitars are often droning or meandering rather than erupting into sharp, punk-infused riffs. Songs like “Televised Mind” showcase this hypnotic approach, with swirling guitar loops and relentless rhythms that feel almost trance-inducing. Meanwhile, “Love Is the Main Thing” and “Living in America” employ a more skeletal approach—less about build-up and release, more about mood-setting.
The vocals also undergo a transformation. While Chatten’s delivery remains unmistakable, he often adopts a more detached, almost chant-like approach. The title track, for example, leans into monotonous, mantra-like repetition, reinforcing the album’s themes of searching for meaning in an increasingly hollow world. The contrast between his spoken-word cadences and the instrumental swells creates an eerie push-and-pull effect, keeping the listener slightly on edge.
Genre Elements
While A Hero’s Death is firmly rooted in post-punk, it stretches the genre in interesting ways. Gone are the more straightforward, foot-stomping punk elements of Dogrel; instead, this album borrows from gothic rock, krautrock, and shoegaze to build its murky, hypnotic soundscape. The motorik rhythms on tracks like “Televised Mind” nod to bands like Can and Neu!, while the dark, swirling guitar textures wouldn’t feel out of place on a Joy Division or early The Cure record.
That said, Fontaines D.C. never lose their distinct identity. Their Irish poetic sensibility—one of their strongest defining features—still seeps into every track, even as the instrumentation becomes more abstract. This isn’t an album concerned with genre boundaries; it’s an album that prioritizes mood, repetition, and emotional weight over traditional song structures or genre tropes.
Lyrical Analysis
If Dogrel was an ode to the romanticism of Dublin life, A Hero’s Death feels like a late-night monologue from someone standing on the edge of burnout, wrestling with the disillusionment of success. The album’s lyrics are deeply introspective, filled with existential questioning, self-doubt, and a subtle undercurrent of rebellion against societal expectations. Fontaines D.C. take their sharp, poetic lyricism and channel it inward, crafting a record that feels at once deeply personal and universally relatable.
Themes and Messages
At its core, A Hero’s Death explores themes of self-doubt, disillusionment, and the search for authenticity in a world that demands conformity. The title itself is a nod to the fleeting nature of success and the idea that the pursuit of external validation can be a hollow endeavor. The lyrics often reflect a growing detachment from the world around them, a stark contrast to the more grounded, place-specific storytelling of their debut.
One of the album’s recurring motifs is the tension between self-preservation and societal pressure. “I Don’t Belong,” the album’s opening track, sets the tone with its defiant yet weary refrain:
“I don’t belong to anyone / I don’t wanna belong to anyone.”
It’s a direct rejection of expectation, a refusal to be shaped by the demands of fame or outside perception. This theme of resistance carries through the album, particularly in the title track, where Chatten delivers a sarcastic list of hollow self-help mantras:
“Don’t get stuck in the past / Say your favorite things at mass.”
The repetition of “Life ain’t always empty” feels like both an affirmation and a plea, as if trying to convince oneself of a truth that doesn’t quite stick.
Other tracks lean into a more abstract sense of existential drift. “You Said” grapples with broken promises and changing perspectives, while “Oh Such a Spring” offers a nostalgic look at lost innocence, almost like an anti-ballad to the wide-eyed energy of their previous work. “Sunny” and “No” take on a more surreal quality, their lyrics fragmented and dreamlike, reinforcing the album’s overarching sense of unease.
Lyrical Depth
Fontaines D.C. have always balanced directness with poetic ambiguity, and A Hero’s Death leans even further into the latter. While Dogrel had a more narrative-driven, street-poet approach, this album embraces abstraction, with lyrics that feel more like impressionistic sketches than linear stories.
Many of the songs rely on repetition and mantra-like phrasing to hammer home their themes. “Televised Mind” is built on hypnotic cycles of thought, mirroring the numbing effect of media saturation:
“All your laughter pissed away / All your sadness pissed away.”
Emotional Impact
There’s a weight to A Hero’s Death that lingers long after the final track. Where Dogrel felt like an electric charge—bursting with life and youthful defiance—this album feels drained, weary, almost hypnotic in its repetition. The lyrics contribute heavily to this mood, evoking a sense of exhaustion, detachment, and quiet resistance.
Rather than delivering anthemic chants or sharply defined stories, A Hero’s Death pulls the listener into a liminal space, one filled with doubt and self-questioning. It’s not an album that seeks easy catharsis. Instead, it presents its themes in a way that encourages contemplation—forcing the listener to sit with the discomfort, to engage with its mantras and contradictions.
Cohesion and Flow
From the opening notes of A Hero’s Death, it’s clear that Fontaines D.C. are leading listeners down a different path than the one they paved with Dogrel. This isn’t an album of instant gratification; it unfolds slowly, enveloping the listener in its shadowy textures and meditative refrains. The way the tracks are arranged plays a crucial role in shaping this experience, as the band carefully balances moments of intensity with stretches of hypnotic introspection.
Track Progression
The album begins with “I Don’t Belong”, a stark and stripped-down opener that sets the tone for what’s to come. Instead of starting with an explosion of energy, Fontaines D.C. opt for restraint, establishing the album’s themes of detachment and resistance from the outset. It’s a bold move—one that signals to the listener that this record is meant to be absorbed, not just consumed.
From there, the album gradually picks up steam, but never in a predictable or linear fashion. “Love Is the Main Thing” and “Televised Mind” introduce more motorik rhythms and layered instrumentation, their repetitive structures reinforcing a sense of creeping existential dread. Tracks like “A Lucid Dream” and “You Said” bring moments of sharper urgency, offering slight surges of momentum before the album dips back into more subdued territory.
The placement of “Oh Such a Spring” marks a notable shift—this wistful, melancholic ballad arrives almost like an interlude, breaking up the album’s more hypnotic cycles with a moment of quiet reflection. From there, the descent continues, with “Sunny” and “No” leading the listener into an even murkier headspace before the album closes with the sprawling, drifting “I Was Not Born” and “Ireland”. The latter, in particular, feels like a fitting endpoint—drenched in reverb and longing, it lingers like the fading embers of a dream.
Rather than following a traditional arc of build-up and climax, A Hero’s Death moves in waves—some songs feel like steady, pulsing mantras, while others act as dreamlike intermissions. This structure makes for a hypnotic listening experience, though it may challenge those looking for the immediate hooks and anthems that defined their debut.
Thematic Consistency
One of the album’s greatest strengths is its unwavering commitment to its themes and mood. From start to finish, A Hero’s Death remains locked into a particular headspace—one of exhaustion, disillusionment, and quiet defiance. Even as the instrumentation ebbs and flows, the underlying feeling remains the same: this is an album about reckoning with one’s place in the world, questioning the narratives we construct for ourselves, and resisting the pressures to conform.
There are no jarring detours or out-of-place experiments; every track, no matter how varied in intensity, feels like a natural extension of the one before it. Even when the album introduces different sonic textures—like the wistful folk leanings of “Oh Such a Spring” or the propulsive, krautrock-infused drive of “Televised Mind”—they all serve the same overarching mood. Nothing feels out of step with the album’s purpose, making it one of the more cohesive and immersive records in recent post-punk memory.
That said, this consistency can also be what makes A Hero’s Death a challenging listen for some. It’s an album that demands patience; its repetitive structures and hypnotic pacing require full immersion. Unlike Dogrel, which was bursting with variety and street-level storytelling, A Hero’s Death is less concerned with grabbing attention and more focused on sustaining a singular emotional atmosphere.
Standout Tracks and Moments
While A Hero’s Death functions best as a cohesive listening experience, certain tracks and moments rise to the surface—either because they encapsulate the album’s themes most powerfully, showcase Fontaines D.C.’s evolving artistry, or simply linger in the mind long after the record ends. These standout moments highlight both the band’s ability to craft hypnotic, mantra-like soundscapes and their knack for poetic lyricism.
Key Standout Tracks
“I Don’t Belong”
Serving as the album’s opener, this track immediately signals the shift from Dogrel’s unbridled energy to A Hero’s Death’s weary introspection. The repeated refrain—“I don’t belong to anyone”—is not shouted with aggression but murmured with resignation, as if Chatten is convincing himself of his own autonomy. The minimalistic, brooding instrumentation allows the weight of the lyricism to sink in, setting the tone for an album that’s more about internal battles than external declarations.
“A Hero’s Death”
The title track is one of the album’s most striking moments, both musically and lyrically. Its relentless drumbeat and almost incantatory chorus—“Life ain’t always empty”—create an unsettling juxtaposition between optimism and irony. The song’s lyrics parody self-help clichés and societal platitudes, offering a cynical take on the hollow promises of fame, success, and fulfillment. The track’s near-hypnotic repetition builds tension without ever fully releasing it, making it one of the album’s most memorable statements.
“Televised Mind”
This song stands out for its relentless, looping intensity. With its motorik rhythm and swirling, distortion-heavy guitars, “Televised Mind” channels krautrock influences while maintaining a distinct post-punk edge. The track is an eerie critique of mass media’s influence, painting a picture of a world numbed by repetition and groupthink. It’s one of the album’s most immersive tracks, pulling the listener into its dizzying, hypnotic vortex.
“Oh Such a Spring”
This stripped-back, wistful ballad is one of A Hero’s Death’s most unexpected yet affecting moments. A stark contrast to the album’s more hypnotic and driving songs, “Oh Such a Spring” feels like a moment of pure vulnerability—a nostalgic lament for something lost. With simple, almost folk-like instrumentation, the song evokes a sense of longing that is both deeply personal and universally relatable. It’s a brief but powerful interlude in an otherwise dense record.
“I Was Not Born”
While not the final track, “I Was Not Born” serves as the album’s last moment of real propulsion. Its driving, repetitive rhythm and defiant lyrics—“I was not born into this world to do another man’s bidding”—echo the themes of resistance and independence that run throughout the album. It feels like a moment of rebellion amidst the fatigue, a last stand against conformity before the album fades into the murky haze of its final song.
Memorable Moments
The Mantra-like Repetition in “A Hero’s Death”
Few moments capture the album’s tension as well as the hypnotic repetition of “Life ain’t always empty” in the title track. The phrase teeters between affirmation and bitter irony, making it one of the most striking lyrical choices on the record. It’s as if Chatten is both mocking and grasping at meaning, a perfect encapsulation of the album’s existential uncertainty.
The Hypnotic Groove of “Televised Mind”
The way “Televised Mind” locks into a relentless, looping groove makes it one of A Hero’s Death’s most immersive moments. The droning guitars and pulsating rhythm create a sense of being trapped in a cycle—a sonic representation of media saturation and collective thought. It’s a moment where the music itself reinforces the album’s thematic weight.
Artistic Contribution and Innovation
With A Hero’s Death, Fontaines D.C. did something that many young bands struggle to pull off: they refused to be boxed in. Rather than capitalizing on the raucous energy of Dogrel, they took a sharp left turn into murkier, more introspective territory—choosing artistic integrity over predictability. In doing so, they not only solidified their place in the modern post-punk movement but also carved out a space uniquely their own.
Place in Genre and the Industry
By 2020, post-punk was experiencing a full-fledged revival, with bands like IDLES, Shame, and Black Midi bringing new energy to a genre rooted in the bleakness of late ’70s Britain. Dogrel had positioned Fontaines D.C. at the forefront of this movement, but where others leaned into bombast and intensity, A Hero’s Death took a different route—favoring restraint, repetition, and existential reflection. In many ways, this move aligned them more closely with the genre’s original architects (Joy Division, The Fall, Wire) than with their contemporaries, marking them as a band unafraid to step outside current trends.
Beyond the post-punk sphere, the album also tapped into broader cultural anxieties. Released in the throes of a pandemic-stricken world, A Hero’s Death resonated as a document of burnout, disillusionment, and the search for meaning in a time of uncertainty. The themes of isolation and existential questioning mirrored the collective mood of the moment, making the album feel eerily prescient—even though it was written before the world turned upside down.
Innovation
While A Hero’s Death doesn’t reinvent post-punk’s sonic palette, it does challenge the expectations placed on a young band following a wildly successful debut. Its innovation lies in its refusal to conform—not just to industry demands but to its own past successes. Fontaines D.C. push boundaries by embracing mood and repetition over immediacy, crafting an album that prioritizes atmosphere over anthems.
One of the album’s most striking innovations is its use of mantra-like repetition. Many of its most memorable lyrics—“Life ain’t always empty” in A Hero’s Death, “I don’t belong to anyone” in I Don’t Belong, “All your laughter pissed away” in Televised Mind—function less like traditional lyrics and more like cyclical meditations. This approach creates a hypnotic, trance-like effect, reinforcing the album’s themes of existential doubt and disillusionment. It’s a subtle but powerful way of pulling the listener into the album’s headspace.
Additionally, the album’s restraint in production and performance sets it apart. Where Dogrel thrived on raw, in-your-face immediacy, A Hero’s Death thrives on subtlety. Dan Carey’s production gives the album a hazy, detached quality, with guitars often feeling distant and vocals sometimes murmured rather than shouted. There’s a deliberate refusal to deliver easy climaxes, making the album a slow-burn experience rather than a collection of instant hits. This decision forces the listener to sit with the album’s discomfort, engaging with it on a deeper level.
Closing Thoughts
With A Hero’s Death, Fontaines D.C. sidestepped the expectations placed upon them, delivering an album that prioritizes mood over immediacy, depth over anthems. It is a bold, brooding statement—one that trades Dogrel’s youthful urgency for something more introspective and world-weary. At its best, the album hypnotizes with its repetition, lulls the listener into its existential headspace, and offers a poetic meditation on fame, identity, and the passage of time.
Strengths
Cohesion and Atmosphere – The album is remarkably consistent in tone, building an immersive, meditative world where every track feels connected.
Lyrical Depth – Fontaines D.C. elevate their songwriting with abstract yet evocative lyrics that resist easy interpretation.
Bold Artistic Direction – Rather than resting on the success of Dogrel, they push their sound in a moodier, more nuanced direction.
Subtlety and Restraint – The production and arrangements leave room for reflection, making for an album that rewards repeated listens.
Weaknesses
Lack of Immediate Hooks – Unlike Dogrel, this album doesn’t grab the listener right away; its impact unfolds slowly, which may make it less accessible.
Pacing Can Feel Monotonous – The reliance on hypnotic repetition, while thematically effective, can occasionally make the album feel like it’s circling the same ideas.
Official Rating: 8/10
While A Hero’s Death may not have the same instant impact as Dogrel, it is an essential chapter in Fontaines D.C.’s artistic growth. It proves they are more than just another post-punk revival band; they are willing to take risks, evolve, and explore the murkier depths of their sound. Some listeners may find it less immediate or harder to grasp on first listen, but those who spend time with it will uncover a rich, poetic meditation on the weight of success and self-perception.