I opened my Spotify Wrapped this year with a large degree of certainty; there was only ever one band who was going to top my year. Of course, so many great albums have been released in 2024, but for me, none can hold a candle to Fontaines D.C. and their fourth album: Romance.

I am admittedly a little biased. This band has been my favourite for a long time; my first ever gig was to see them at the Leeds O2 Academy, and I knew that whatever they released this year, I’d probably fall blindly in love with it. However, Romance stands on its own two feet, welcoming the new without alienating the old. I’m going to try and lay out a (somewhat) objective case as to why it deserves to be at the top of your rankings this year.

“I knew that whatever they released this year, I’d probably fall blindly in love with it”

When lead single ‘Starburster’ was released in April, it bulldozed everything that Fontaines D.C. had built before. Gone were the grey checked shirts of their debut Dogrel; in came neon pink and green tracksuits. Immediately, a whole new sound was ready to be explored by the band. Pounding drums recall the best of ’90s trip-hop, while singer Grian Chatten raps and gasps his way over the top. Chatten wrote the song after suffering a panic attack, and no song I’ve heard condenses that frenetic chaos, that sense of helpless, senseless flux, like ‘Starburster’. There’s a slowed, melodic bridge, until we’re thrown into the breakneck gasps of air once again.

This energy is the perfect follow-up to the title track, which opens the album. The brooding bassline and lyrics such as “Into the darkness again” give it a haunting quality. The track processes and slowly reaches a crescendo, before we’re catapulted into ‘Starburster’. We immediately feel the same sense of whiplash, the same discomfort and panic as the songs describe. It’s relentless; no sooner has ‘Starburster’ finished than we’re thrust into the distorted, propulsive melodrama of ‘Here’s the Thing’. The album softens briefly with ‘Desire’, but only for a moment.

Though ‘Desire’ builds, developing a tension that finally gives way in the last minute — as the drums, guitar, and bass collide to create a heavy wall of sound over which Chatten’s shouts of “desire” just break through – we’re once again thrown off balance. Another moment of whiplash follows, as the beautifully cinematic strings of ‘In the Modern World’ give us a chance to breathe. It feels nostalgic; the harmonies and escapist lyrics find peace away from the mania of the 21st Century. The reprieve doesn’t last long, though, as ‘Bug’ picks up the pace and rushes through a love affair, barely pausing before ‘Motorcycle Boy’ takes its place. It builds and builds, driven by a pulsating arpeggio, only to fall apart just as it reaches the crescendo. The song and album collapse, before the last four tracks come to pick up the pieces.

What comes next is probably my favourite on the album. ‘Sundowner’ is a swirling, shoegazey tune that is near perfect. Guitarist Conor Curley, bassist Deego, and singer Chatten all lend vocals that meld together alongside the hazy guitars. It’s as if all the album’s remaining elements have been taken from the collapse of ‘Motorcycle Boy’ and played together, and the result sounds biblical.

“Through all its tribulations, the album ends on a defiantly optimistic and nostalgic note”

‘Sundowner’ is followed by ‘Horseness Is the Whatness’ – an ode to guitarist Carlos O’Connell’s newborn child. It’s two minutes of tenderness before its grungy outro takes over and introduces the penultimate track, ‘Death Kink’. Its Pixies-like heaviness perfectly complements lyrics recounting being “shit-battered“, clattered”, and “shattered”. It’s the closest the album comes to grunge, before it suddenly stops, leaving only ‘Favourite’.

The album’s final song is built around a jangly, warm, and nostalgic guitar riff. This nostalgia is so intrinsic to the track, it’s immediately familiar, and when it was first released I had it on a constant loop. It distils a distorted, often gloriously chaotic album into a hopeful and deeply personal conclusion. It’s the perfect ending for an album that recounts the highs and lows of romance; through all its tribulations, it ends on a defiantly optimistic and nostalgic note.

It’s these tribulations that make Romance such a rewarding listen. There’s no filler, and each song seems to shift perspective without feeling asymmetrical or unbalanced. The perhaps disjunctive moments shock us on a first listen, but as we return, they become intricately connected. We’re sent down many different paths but always find ourselves reeled back in. You’ve probably already got your own idea of the year’s best album, and whilst I might not have convinced you that this is it, I hope you’ll at least give it a go and see just how brilliant it is.