Kneecap Are Not The Story
Kneecap in London, May 2025. © 1MU
It's been a while since we’ve had a good old fashioned moral panic around pop music isn’t it? Lil Nas X tried filling shoes with blood, but that fizzled out pretty quickly. Yes, we're a long way from the glory days of satanic panic and punks wearing swastikas.
But recently, Northern Irish rap trio Kneecap have brought it back. Whether they like it or not.
Despite a BAFTA-winning film and worldwide acclaim, May 2025 sees Kneecap in an awkward place - equally lauded and reviled for their stances on Irish republicanism, recreational drug use, and Palestinian independence, and their unapologetic use of the Irish language. Even former butter salesman and old-man-yelling-at-cloud John Joseph Lydon, ever desperate for attention, recently denounced the band on breakfast telly for daring to employ similar shock tactics to those he and his colleagues arguably pioneered half a century ago.
When Lydon gives you lemons, make lemonade.
It's attention they might not want - their stance and actions on Gaza, particularly since their now-notorious appearance at Coachella, have seen festivals and promoters around the world pull multiple shows. Politicians of all shades (and Sharon Osborne) condemn the trio and their message. Then, 72 hours before headlining London's Wide Awake festival, Mo Chara (aka Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh) found himself charged with terrorism offences, for allegedly waving a Hezbollah flag on stage last year. (Ó hAnnaidh denies all charges.)
Perhaps the band feared a last-minute cancellation, because less than 24 hours before they were due to play to 10,000 day drinkers in Brixton, they announced, at 4 hours notice, a show at Oxford Street's legendary 100 Club.
I knew what I needed to do.
Though I spotted a van or two outside while queueing, I later learned that police had apparently made their way into the club shortly after opening. Though by then, I was distracted by the opening act, Aboriginal rapper Miss Kannina.
Miss Kannina in London, May 2025. © 1MU
Though apparently diminutive in stature, she is fierce. Having opened for Kneecap in Australia, she used her London debut to deliver a clear message - Australia is fucked, her government is fucked, and aboriginal folks are being truly fucked. But she also wanted people to dance, because these are some of the most upbeat protest songs you’ll ever hear. Drill beats backed up some phenomenal flow, which only served her message (showcased in her eponymous debut EP) all the better. This may be righteous, but it’s still a lot of fun. By the end of closing number ‘Australia Has A Problem,’ reflecting her and her fellow aborigines’ struggles, leading the crowd in a chant of “always was / always will be / ABORIGINAL LAND,” she was close to tears. One can tell this really meant something to her. I hope it did for her audience.
Miss Kannina also had harsh words for the Israeli and American governments, but I’m sure she would agree that her views on this were likely to be overshadowed.
All eyes on Kneecap… © 1MU
From the second they emerged from the back of the club, Kneecap had the crowd in the palm of their hands. Clad in his trademark Irish flag balaclava, DJ Próvaí took to the decks, swiftly followed by frontmen Mo Chara (symbolic gaffer tape over his mouth) and Móglaí Bap, to rapturous cheers. If they were nervous about returning to the stage after Coachella, not to mention just a couple of days after Mo’s criminal charge, they didn't show it. Affable and often hilarious between the songs - suggesting single audience members might be undercover cops; inviting the audience to pirate their eponymous film rather than feed the Bezos machine; suggesting the police should be thanking them for the overtime (“I'm feeding your kids!”) - when it came down to business, Mo and Móglaí delivered. Like Run DMC before them, they trade rapid-fire rhymes while seamlessly blending English and Irish bars which, despite its minority language status, the whole audience seemed to echo perfectly.
Midway through the set, they premiered ‘Recap’—a’ mixed-language riposte to ex-hacker and current leader of the UK Conservative Party Kemi Badenoch, with whom they now appear to be feuding after she rescinded some arts funding they received, before the current Labour government returned the cash. It’s no Kendrick vs. Drake, but it is, as the kids say, a banger.
DJ Próvaí of Kneecap, London, May 2025. © 1MU
Last year's long-awaited debut album ‘Fine Art’ was well represented, with highlights including the 808 State-sampling ‘I bhFiacha Linne’ (“in debt to us”), the title track, and singles ‘Better Way To Live’ and ‘Sick In The Head.’ But it was their earlier singles, including ‘H.O.O.D.’ and the breakthrough ‘C.E.A.R.T.A.’ (“rights”), that sent the crowd manic. I’ve never seen a mosh pit at a hip-hop show, but this felt more punk than anything I’ve seen on stage in a long time. And through it all, with the backing of teacher-turned-producer Próvaí, Mo and Móglaí bounced across the stage, heads held high, energetic, charismatic, and seemingly with the confidence that comes with being one of the biggest bands on the planet right now.
But they couldn't escape reality. For one thing, their lawyer was in the audience. (Suggestions they bring him on stage were ignored - “he can't rap.”) And they were very quick to show their gratitude to those who had stuck by them, including their label Heavenly (also partly responsible for the Gurdy Stone) and those they claim the people trying to shut the band down are actually afraid of - their fans. The idea that young people might not only hear what they have to say about Israel and Palestine but, heaven forbid, agree with it, is what the band believes to be the real target.
Through it all, they wanted to make one thing clear:
They Are Not The Real Story
Now, I’m not a political commentator, so if you need a primer on what’s going on in Gaza right now, find people who can speak with genuine authority. But the band’s argument, that by pillorying and attempting to stifle the speech of people who say some nasty things about the government of Israel, instead of the people who stand accused by the UN, Amnesty International, and at least a dozen countries (including the Republic of Ireland) of genocide, governments and media are trying to distract people from what really matters… Well, in the room and on the train home as I write these notes, it seems hard to argue with their thesis.
Móglaí Bap of Kneecap, London, May 2025. © 1MU
Kneecap are the most important band in the world right now. They shouldn’t be - they should be playing festivals with songs about Irish pride and taking ketamine - but fate has dealt them this hand. Thank goodness, then, that, In Spite of all of the controversy and legal turmoil, they've not forgotten how to put on a show.
And if you don't believe me, ask this guy.
Never mind the gammons; here’s Bobby Gillespie. © 1MU
Kneecap are touring worldwide, including Europe between now and August, and the US in October 2025. Catch them before the police do…
