The rise of this Irish rock wave cannot be examined without mentioning that particular venue. The main reason lies in the band that, more than any other, helped inspire and legitimise certain sounds once again, along with a willingness to make people uncomfortable. And that band, as it happens, comes from Dublin. When they released their debut album, Holding Hands with Jamie, in 2015, they were still called Girl Band; today, they are Gilla Band. Abrasive sounds, noise punk that takes melody and buries it, and lyrics unafraid to tackle sensitive subjects such as mental health and schizophrenia. Over the years, every Irish and English band I have interviewed has cited them as an influence. What is striking is that none of them sounds like them. Josh Finerty, bassist in shame—one of the English bands to emerge from that same context during those years—once put it perfectly: “Gilla planted the seeds.”

Those seeds bore fruit within just a few years. For Irish rock, 2019 was a watershed. Following their early self-released singles, Fontaines D.C. released their debut, Dogrel. A record that reinterprets the past and brings it into the present, reclaiming the literary sensibility characteristic of Irish songwriting. It is not just the album’s title, which alludes to fourteenth-century verse. Grian Chatten’s lyrics portray dubliners searching for direction in a Dublin filled with echoes of James Joyce. The sound, shaped and refined by English producer Dan Carey—a pivotal figure in defining the sound of this period—is both classic and contemporary.

Also released in 2019 was When I Have Fears, the debut album by The Murder Capital. Another Irish band based in Dublin, they too are deeply post-punk in the way they shroud their guitars and bass in haze. It is a dark record that explores themes such as grief and loss. Within a few years, the two bands released albums that seemed to confirm the emergence of a scene: Skinty Fia (2022) and Gigi’s Recovery (2023).

The word “seemed” is necessary, however, because Irish rock is not quite a fully fledged scene, even if it might look like one from the outside. Numerous bands have formed since the pandemic, and they all know one another, often opening each other’s shows. In some cases, their sound is the common thread, and here too Gilla Band are partly responsible through their bassist Daniel Fox, now an established producer for several groups, including SPRINTS, fronted by Karla Chubb. Speaking of Irish frontwomen, Ireland has long been home to great female rock artists and songwriters—Dolores O’Riordan and Sinéad O’Connor, to name just two—and its newer bands are also remarkably diverse. This “revival”, for want of a better word, began with Pillow Queens, the all-female indie-rock trio. Then there are NewDad and Julie Dawson’s introspective songwriting, with its occasional shoegaze influences, and Florence Road, another all-female band on the rise.

Returning to Skinty Fia, there are several reasons why Fontaines D.C.’s third album represents such a pivotal moment. Beyond its sound and stylistic evolution, it seems to have given renewed legitimacy to certain elements that other bands subsequently embraced and made their own. The first that stands out is its political and social reflection on the band’s home country. Much of what is expressed in I Love You, one of their best-known songs, resurfaces in the far angrier, noisier energy of Gurriers’ music. Their second album, Nobody’s Coming to Save You, released this past September, alternates between moments of rage at the status quo and others with a decadent, dance-driven feel.

There is anger, too, in Masquerade, the debut album by Cork band Cardinals, released in February, though it feels more resigned, perhaps shaped by a Catholic upbringing. Religious references are central both to the lyrics, as in I Like You, and to the band’s aesthetic. Much the same can be said of Basht., fresh from releasing their debut album, Poor Advice. Cardinals, however, fronted by Euan Manning, offer a starting point for one final reflection on tradition and the reclaiming of Ireland’s cultural roots. Credit goes to the frontman’s brother, Finn, whose accordion sits remarkably naturally among the distorted guitars, adding a touch of folk.

Folk could, in fact, open up a whole new chapter. The opening track on Skinty Fia, In ár gCroíthe go deo, introduced the Irish language into Fontaines’ discography. In this respect, the D.C.s followed in the footsteps of KNEECAP’s ambitious work of cultural reclamation. The Belfast hip-hop trio, who combine Irish and English in their songs, also brought Grian Chatten onto their album FINE ART (2024) for the single Better Way to Live. Further back, and in terms of sound too, Lankum represent a high point. The band draw on keening—from the Irish caoineadh, meaning “to weep”—an ancestral form of funeral lament rooted in Irish ritual, deconstructing and modernising it through hypnotic soundscapes created with traditional instruments.

Today, Irish folk seems to be gaining ever more ground, finding a home in the same venues as rock. One name to know? Madra Salach. They have the swagger of a band seasoned by years of pubs and rivers of beer, a love of deep roots and a fearless approach to their subject matter. It is no coincidence that they will open the biggest show of Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll’s career so far: Slane Castle next June.

Fontaines D.C. did not invent the Irish rock of recent years, but they have constantly nurtured and reinvented it. They did not create a scene: they encouraged people to look beyond the image of Ireland that prevailed until a few years ago and begin to recognise the energy of its younger generations. Making music in Dublin is still difficult today, and many bands are “forced” to relocate to London. But the seeds, to borrow Finerty’s words, have been planted—and they continue to sprout.