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Fontaines D.C. | KNEECAP | English Teacher | The Murder Capital
Wythenshawe Park, Manchester
15th August 2025
Dublin’s Fontaines D.C. take the headline slot at Wythenshawe Park’s summer music event, their biggest Manchester show to date, backed by a formidable line-up of rising artists. From the feral chaos of KNEECAP to the hypnotic pull of the headliners themselves, the night unravels as both a celebration and a communion of sound, spirit and political fire.
Reviewed by Clare de Lune
The Murder Capital stride on beneath the blazing sun, their neon orange logo burning behind them like a flare. They open with The Fall, ebbing and flowing in waves, James McGovern’s baritone cutting through the heat as scuzzy guitars slice the air. There’s a strange beauty in these shards of noise and brooding poetry. Death of a Giant follows, dedicated to Shane MacGowan, a song heavy with grief and grit. When Love of Country unfurls, the tone shifts into a heartfelt ballad that weighs the pull of national pride against the shadows of division and hate. Words of solidarity with Palestine blaze across the backdrop, and the crowd fall into a quietness. Don’t Cling to Life detonates, guitars tearing forward as the field is swept up in anthemic chants, arms raised high. Dark, unflinching and magnetic, The Murder Capital carve their name into Manchester.
Mercury Music Prize winners, English Teacher tear into The World’s Biggest Paving Slab, and the park lurches forward with their catchy riff. It’s angular with a euphoric chorus, and Lily Fontaine leans into every line, wistful melody rising out of her spoken word. Notable tracks are I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying, twisting with math-rock precision, intricate pacing and sharp dynamics; Albatross, haunting and spacious, showing off Fontaine’s gorgeous vocals; R&B, playful and edgy, its groove both teasing and jagged. Midway through This Could Be Texas, the band pause as someone in the crowd needs assistance. Fontaine halts the set without hesitation, making sure they’re alright before leading the song back in with even greater poise. Their chemistry fizzes onstage, Fontaine appearing utterly confident, the band spiralling out their art-rock post-punk sound with precision. A brilliant set that feels both assured and electrifying.
Before the headliners claim Wythenshawe Park, KNEECAP tear it wide open. Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap (repping Thin Lizzy on his chest) and DJ Próvaí storm the stage with feral intensity, a trio who waste no time turning 25,000 people into a frenzy. From the very first beat the energy is mental – beer flying through the air, a flare igniting at the front, mosh pits ripping open at their command: ‘Have you got it in ya Manchester? Have we more energy? Let’s open up the pit!’.
The setlist spans 14 songs, each one a riot. When Better Way To Live arrives, Grian Chatten himself emerges, sending the field into a storm. Your Sniffer Dogs Are Shite blasts out, the crowd chanting back with unhinged delight. I bhFiacha Linne drops heavy, the sampled pulse of Graham Massey’s Cubik threading through the chaos. H.O.O.D. crashes in with animated visuals, fans screaming every word, dancing wildly to its weighty bounce. This is no party without politics. Defiant chants of ‘Free, free Mo Chara’ – a nod to the member’s recent terror-related charges – turn into ‘Free, free Palestine,’ the band declaring, ‘We don’t want to talk about this every time, but until something changes, we’ll use this platform.’ Even in fury, there’s mischief. ‘Who wants to see DJ Próvaí’s nipples?’ they grin and sure enough, Próvaí sprints down the runway, unzips his top, bares his chest and twiddles his nipples to the crowds delight. The finale, The Recap, lands like their theme tune, politically charged, drum & bass-driven, whilst Próvaí is suddenly crowd-surfing over a sea of flailing arms and super-charged bodies. They exit like they have just detonated the park, the field still hyper-fuelled, still chanting. A monumental live experience.
The late-summer sky stretches over a restless crowd, buzzing with excitement for what promises to be Manchester’s most explosive gig yet. Fontaines D.C. launch straight into Here’s the Thing. It’s brooding and swelling with tension. The distorted guitar recalls the grit of nineties grunge, and in true Fontaines style, every word Grian Chatten spits out lands like prophecy. The crowd are already electric. Jackie Down the Line snakes in, its rhythm sleek and hypnotic, a post-punk lullaby for the disenchanted. Chatten stalks the stage, while the hungry sea of fans holler back every word. Then Boys in the Better Land blasts in, and the park erupts. It’s all elbows, yells and pint-fuelled catharsis, amber liquid arcing through the air, whether beer or otherwise. The field becomes a giddy mosh of pogoing bodies roaring every line like a battle cry, stretching from Dublin to Manchester. Televised Mind grinds in on a dark, hypnotic riff; industrial, thunderous, like stepping into a psychic maze of optical illusions. Chatten delivers it like a sermon, pacing with feral intensity, while the band’s chemistry feels telepathic.
Chatten wears an Oasis Live Forever t-shirt. Maybe it’s a nod to recent homecoming shows, maybe a wry peace offering after Liam Gallagher’s dismissive comments about the band. Either way, it’s clear Chatten is above petty rivalries. This is not just another headline set; it’s a cultural reckoning. Behind him, each member carves out their own presence. Tom Coll’s precise and relentless drumming is the band’s steel spine. Conor Deegan’s (Deego) basslines underpin everything with menace and melody, and ethereal harmonics. Carlos O’Connell’s guitar textures veer from jagged riffs to dreamlike washes, sculpting the soundscapes around Chatten’s words, while Conor Curley holds down rhythm and melody with understated brilliance. Together, they form a machine built on tension and release, chaos and control. The band have long been heralded as heirs to the old Dublin spirit, with Chatten’s lyrics burrowing beneath the skin of that city.
Roman Holiday drifts in like a dreamy reprieve. It’s eerie, shoegazy, softening the edges and seems to mirror the fading cerulean sky, whilst Deego’s harmonics hang like spells in the air. Then It’s Amazing to Be Young arrives, gutting the audience with beauty and nostalgia. Chatten delivers it like he’s reliving it, the track landing like a sunbeam through the softly darkening sky. Already an anthem, it’s sung back word-for-word by a throng of fans in blue Fontaines football shirts and Irish green. Death Kink lurches in, a bass-heavy beast with Pixies-like skipped beat that evokes a sense of mental disarray. Chatten storms the runway in a black maxi skirt and heavy boots, the crowd braced for the drop-out, ready to hurl back the snarling refrain: ‘Shit, shit, shit, battered.’ A Hero’s Death is seismic, mantra-like. ‘Life ain’t always empty,’ roars across the park, echoing like gospel. Chatten spits it out like a punk preacher, the message feeling more vital now than ever. What sets this band apart is their constant evolution. They shift with ease between the raw, punky grit of their early work and the newer, more atmospheric textures with its warped edges melting into dreamlike haze.
From here, the set becomes a pilgrimage through shifting soundscapes. The slow ache of Before You I Just Forget, the stripped-down melancholy of Motorcycle Boy with Chatten’s vocals raw and emotive, and the poetic weirdness of James Joyce-inspired Horseness Is the Whatness. Tom Coll’s drumming is immense and powerful; the Fontaines’ secret weapon, driving the music’s intensity. The line ‘Will someone find out what the word is that makes the world go ’round, ’cause I thought it was love’ pierces through, projected across the stage as laser light glows up the symbolic heart suspended from the stage roof. Love is a central theme for Fontaines D.C., from darker, dystopian shades of romantic love to the heartfelt love of their homeland and the unifying love that binds them to each other and their audience. The crying heart of the album 'Romance', billowing from the stage, is the perfect emblem of this duality. It’s fragile yet defiant, a symbol of devotion and decay, reminding us that even at the end of the world, love survives. The set is no-nonsense. Chatten barely speaks, save for one fierce, resolute statement: ‘Free Palestine.’ Fontaines have never shied away from using their platform, namely the Israel-Palestine conflict.
Big punches back to the 'Dogrel' era and is a quick, sharp reminder of where it all began, its classic riff as cool and defiant as ever. This song is evidence that this was always their mission statement. Hurricane Laughter uncoils with garage-rock menace, its minor key riff intensifying before the darkwave Nabokov crashes in with cavernous guitars, met with unbridled devotion. The meditative swirl of Desire feels like mass hypnosis, with 25,000 voices rising in unison, some eyes closed. It’s a shared transcendence. Bug and Favourite close the main set in a last sprint of chaos, arms swaying, shoulders stacked, phones raised to snatch a fragment of what it feels like to be alive tonight. But the night isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
A low, menacing drone hums from the PA, thick with the weight of impending doom, while the image of a pig flickers onto the screen. The tension coils tighter, the crowd holding their breath, knowing the stage is about to ignite once more. The encore begins with a shiver. In comes the chilling piano notes of Romance, with thunderous percussion and green neon slicing across the stage. Cinematic, visceral. An extended guitar rhythm of In the Modern World follows, steady and magnetic, fans so eager they begin the verse before Chatten even steps in. His delivery is warm and restrained, the song unfurling into a melancholic beauty, with Deego’s harmonies shimmering like a feather pillow. And then, the heart of it all – I Love You. A love letter to Dublin, a song of love and protest, lit by the thunderous applause that greets the first notes of its iconic bassline. Chatten’s voice is raw, expressive and impressive, how he transitions between delicate and assertive.
The message ‘Free Palestine’ blaze across the screen, alongside ‘Israel is committing genocide, use your voice’. Finally, Starburster, a closing track unlike any other. Spikey, dancey, unhinged with its asphyxiated gasps, fills the warm night air. Chatten fires out the words with the same raw magnitude he began with, ensuring every ounce of energy is spent. As the final distorted breath fades, Wythenshawe Park doesn’t go quiet. It buzzes, alive with something Fontaines D.C. left behind: belonging and the beautiful chaos of feeling everything all at once.
Fontaines D.C. can be found at their website | Instagram | and Facebook
KNEECAP can be found at their website | Instagram | and Facebook
English Teacher can be found at their website | Instagram | and Facebook
The Murder Capital can be found at their website | Instagram | and Facebook
All photos by Adam Edwards. You can find Adam at his website | Instagram, and Facebook
Words by Clare de Lune.
Check out her Louder Than War author profile here.
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