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How Irish rap trio Kneecap is speaking out against genocide like no one else
How Irish rap trio Kneecap is speaking out against genocide like no one else

The Hindu

time3 hours ago

  • Politics
  • The Hindu

How Irish rap trio Kneecap is speaking out against genocide like no one else

On Wednesday afternoon, just steps away from the Westminster Magistrates' Court in London, a small crowd had gathered waving the colours of Palestine and Ireland. At the centre of it stood three young men from Belfast, wrapped in keffiyehs, ready to appear in court, as one of them faced charges of 'terrorism'. But in the eyes of those gathered, the prosecution only affirmed what Kneecap had always claimed: that their art, their anger, and their politics were dangerous enough to put them on trial. The raucous, bilingual hip-hop trio — made up of Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap, and DJ Próvaí — have, in a few short years, transformed from cult Gaelic-language oddities into bona fide political headliners around the globe. If one were to ask the British authorities, they are provocateurs, perhaps even radicals. If you asked the tens of thousands who chant 'Free Palestine' at their concerts, they are prophets of a new, unabashed youth culture of revolutionaries. Either way, they are hard to ignore, and harder still to shut up. They're already on the back foot...🔥 GRMA for the video @ — KNEECAP (@KNEECAPCEOL) June 18, 2025 The charges against Mo Chara (Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh) stem from a performance in London in late 2024, where he allegedly waved a Hezbollah flag and shouted slogans in support of both Hezbollah and Hamas. The prosecution insisted this isn't about Palestine. The defense argued the charge is not only politically motivated but also technically invalid, citing a narrow reading of the statute of limitations. The legal wrangling continues despite Mo Chara being granted unconditional bail, but outside the courtroom, the rhetoric seems set. Kneecap has turned into a catalyst for Palestinian solidarity that stems from a deep, centuries-old connection between Ireland's own legacy of occupation and the global struggles against colonialism. And that, perhaps, is the key to understanding how a hip-hop group who rhyme in Gaelic about drugs, sex, and British imperialism have ended up being an uncompromising artistic voice for Gaza in the West. Kneecap is made up of three sharply distinct yet symbiotic personas: Mo Chara, the wiry firestarter whose deliveries swing between furious satire and solemn invective; Móglaí Bap, the self-styled poet-contrarian with a punk lyrical style; and DJ Próvaí, the group's sonic architect, whose beats fuse Irish folk samples with grime, trap, and jungle. Together, they trade verses in a brash blend of Gaelic and English that often weave party tracks with polemic. Their gopnik Adidas tracksuit aesthetics are often accessorised with their iconic tricolour balaclavas and Palestinian keffiyehs. Kneecap's music is an anarchic mashup of caustic punchlines and rave-ready anthems of rebellion. Their distinct sound threads resistance through bangers. Tracks like 'C.E.A.R.T.A.' and 'Amach Anocht' champion language rights with the stride of a street protest, while 'Fenian C**ts' turns a slur into a badge of honour, and the ferocious drum'n'bass takedown of British politics in 'The Recap,' has crowds screaming 'F**k [Kemi] Badenoch' with abandon. It's rather poetic that a band named after a paramilitary punishment has become the moral barometer for a generation. In Northern Ireland, 'kneecapping' was administered with a bullet and a warning. It was vigilante justice as deployed by the IRA against informants, drug dealers, and others deemed to have betrayed their community. The term now lives uneasily in popular memory as an echo of brutality and rebellion. For Kneecap, the name has been a punchy provocation. In Irish, 'ní cheapaim' sounds like 'kneecap him' — which means 'I don't think so.' The pun, like much of their art, is laced with misbehaviour. Yet beneath all the swaggering lampooning , there is a long memory. Irish solidarity with Palestine is not new. Both peoples have known the weight of occupation, the indignity of checkpoints, and the sting of being cast as 'terrorists' while seeking liberation. In the Catholic quarters of Belfast, the Palestinian flag is stitched into the fabric of daily life like a second national emblem. In many neighbourhoods, where the memory of British occupation still looms large, parallels between the Irish Republican struggle and Palestinian resistance feel immediate and lived. The shared history of displacement, state violence, and political vilification forms a bridge that spans continents. Kneecap has reanimated this sentiment in a language of basslines, beats, and unapologetic sloganeering that has proven potent to young audiences. When they stood before 20,000 people at Coachella, and roared that the Palestinians were being bombed from the skies with nowhere to run, they were drawing a bloodline from Derry to Deir al-Balah, to illustrate how the cruelties of colonial occupation have now translated to modern-day war crimes. Our message to London 👇 — KNEECAP (@KNEECAPCEOL) May 24, 2025 The group's own upbringing is rooted in the post-Good Friday Agreement generation, and informs their every move as the grandchildren of insurgency. Móglaí Bap's father, Gearóid Ó Cairealláin, was a giant of the Irish language movement who fought against cultural erasure. His recent death and subsequent eulogising by the president of Ireland, only seems to have furthered the group's resolve. Last year, Kneecap's audacity leapt from stage to screen with the release of their self-titled biopic that chronicled their rise from Belfast's underbelly to the global stage. Premiering at Sundance — where it became the first Irish-language film ever selected — it quickly generated Oscar buzz, and was even made the nomination shortlist. Though it ultimately missed out on a nod, Kneecap marked a watershed moment for Irish-language cinema. Kneecap's genius has been in making the political seem personal, and the personal feel universal. They've threaded together Irish language rights, class warfare, anti-Zionism, drug culture, and nationalist mischief into something that feels utterly of its time: the sound of a generation that's done with polite liberalism and is thirsting for confrontation. Their statements are clearly not careful. At times, they veer towards a hot-headed bluster that invites criticism, as when Mo Chara declared, 'The only good Tory is a dead Tory'. They have since clarified, retracted, contextualised, denied, and even, doubled down. But the thrust remains that this is a group that sees politics as the very foundation to their art. While the likes of Radiohead are now mumbling faint somethings about 'both sides,' after years of Zionist catering, Kneecap has had zero reservations for calling a genocide what it is. They have been using their platform precisely because they know it is precarious and powerful. Critics call them dangerous. But the danger, really, is that they're effective. They've made Gaza the most important thing to care about, and somehow looked incredibly cool doing so. They've lit up the hypocrisy of Western governments that condemn protest in the name of 'security' while bankrolling a war that has killed tens of thousands. And their performances have been a spectacle of catharsis for those who feel ignored by the mainstream discourse. The cultural establishment doesn't quite know what to do with them. Sharon Osbourne called for them to be banned from the United States after their stint at Coachella. Massive Attack came to their defense. Jeremy Corbyn introduced them at another festival. They screen 'F**k Israel, Free Palestine' behind them at shows, and then segue into songs about ketamine and wild nights in Belfast. Are they pranksters? Are they revolutionaries? Are they, in the language of coppers, simply self-proclaimed 'low-life scum'? Kneecap has continually proven how their greatest weapon is their refusal to shut up. It's fitting that a band born of the legacy of kneecaps blown out to keep people quiet has become one of the loudest, cheekiest voices shouting back against genocide .

Thousands flock to Dublin's Fairview Park for sold-out Kneecap gig
Thousands flock to Dublin's Fairview Park for sold-out Kneecap gig

Irish Examiner

time3 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Irish Examiner

Thousands flock to Dublin's Fairview Park for sold-out Kneecap gig

Back on Irish soil, Kneecap took to the stage at Fairview Park in Dublin on Thursday night. Despite swirling controversy, the West Belfast rappers are at the peak of their musical careers, having played several European festivals this summer and now their sold-out Fairview Park gig. The group is also set to play two 3Arena gigs on December 16 and 17. Kneecap fans Aoibhe Shankly,Hannah Coomerford and Rachel OKeefe pictured arriving to fairview park Dublin. Picture: Stephen Collins/Collins Photos. With their politically provocative lyrics and working-class commentary, the group, consisting of Móglaí Bap, Mo Chara, and DJ Próvaí, has grown in popularity both at home and abroad. Kneecap fans Dylan Keating and Shannon Iveagh pictured arriving to fairview park Dublin. PIcture: Stephen Collins/Collins Photos. Their success, however, hasn't come without some controversy, with the cancellation of some gigs following their outspoken support for Palestine. Kneecap had faced some backlash over their comments about Gaza during their Coachella performance earlier this year. Kneecap fans pictured arriving to fairview park Dublin. Picture: Stephen Collins/Collins Photos Separately, member Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, who performs as Mo Chara, appeared before Westminster Magistrates Court in London to face a terror charge for allegedly displaying a Hizbullah flag at a gig in London last November. Taking to the stage at Fairview Park on Thursday, Mo Chara exclaimed, 'I'm a free man' to a crowd of cheering fans. This week also marked the first anniversary of the group's debut album Fine Art, which was released in June 2024. Read More Seven red giraffes to parade through streets of Cork city this weekend

Kneecap in Fairview Park review: Defiant, considered and celebratory
Kneecap in Fairview Park review: Defiant, considered and celebratory

Irish Times

time7 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Irish Times

Kneecap in Fairview Park review: Defiant, considered and celebratory

Kneecap Fairview Park, Dublin ★★★★★ Far from the gloomy halls of the Westminster Magistrates' Court, Kneecap arrive to Fairview Park defiant and full of energy. 'Quite the culture change' is how they describe their new surroundings. Here, the trio are conductors, orchestrating their congregation skilfully and punctuating an explosive set with humour and powerful monologues. A phrase penned by American poet Toi Derricotte, and borrowed by punk outfit Idles , comes to mind: joy is an act of resistance. [ Fans rally behind Kneecap after London court appearance: 'If you're supporting Ireland, you're supporting Kneecap' Opens in new window ] Detractors fundamentally and deliberately misinterpret what Kneecap are doing. Even softer-sounding labels of 'controversial' and 'agitating' are forged to distract from a very simple, innocuous objective – drawing attention to Israel's ongoing massacre of Palestinian people , and to the political inaction, or participation, that renders western governments complicit in a genocide. No one needed to be persuaded on Thursday in Fairview, but it doesn't diminish their importance. READ MORE In north Dublin, the night holds the communal intensity of a football song. In lieu of scarves and match programmes, Tricolour balaclavas are hung up for sale on temporary fencing at the park's entrance. Inside the marquee, where temperatures run high, many peel the headgear back to cool their faces. In an early monologue, the court case is addressed. Mo Chara (Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh), who has been charged with a terrorism offence in the UK over allegedly displaying a flag in support of Hizbullah at a gig last year, says that Kneecap have beaten the British government before and promises to do it again. It is a reference to the group's successful legal challenge in November over withheld arts funding. Fans take selfies before the Kneecap concert in Dublin's Fairview Park on Thursday. Photograph: Chris Maddaloni Later in the night, Mo Chara spends several considered minutes issuing a diatribe against the suffering of the Palestinian people. He acknowledges that the crowd here is in agreement with him, but pledges that 'until something changes, Kneecap will always use their platform'. Amid the sombre moments, there is no deviation from the tenets of Kneecap's performance routine – riotous, pulsating tracks that alchemise everyone in attendance. Fenian C***s and Your Sniffer Dogs Are S***e are early defibrillators. This is a rave that relies on participation, and pits open readily when ordered by those onstage. By the end of these bursts, the interludes work well as breathers. They even feature singalongs of The Auld Triangle and Dirty Old Town. A poignant dedication is made to Conor Biddle, an acclaimed Irish lighting designer who died earlier this year. The moment best captures the celebratory blend of emotions that Kneecap foster, as they dedicate the next song, Sick in the Head, to their friend in the knowledge he would have appreciated the joke. As the night winds to a close, the practised rhythm of the band's big finish becomes evident. DJ Próvaí forays beyond his mixing desk as Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap dovetail slick, emphatic vocals. Gone are the pauses, and the tent erupts for C.E.A.R.T.A., Get Your Brits Out, Parful and Hood. In the niche of Irish language punk-rap, very few acts stand alongside Kneecap musically. The message and identity of their work, however, is mirrored by an array of their national contemporaries. Explorative, parochial, socially conscious artists that echo the voices of young people around the country; this could describe Fontaines DC , Lankum , CMAT and many more. It is not an ethos to be feared.

Fionola Meredith: Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of Northern Ireland be in the dock based on that logic?
Fionola Meredith: Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of Northern Ireland be in the dock based on that logic?

Irish Independent

time8 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Irish Independent

Fionola Meredith: Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of Northern Ireland be in the dock based on that logic?

Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh is accused of a terrorism offence: displaying a flag in support of proscribed organisation Hezbollah at a London gig. There were surreal scenes this week outside Westminster Magistrates' Court when Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh — aka Mo Chara of the Irish language rap group Kneecap — arrived together with his two band mates, Móglaí Bap and DJ Próvaí. An excited crowd waved flags, variously proclaiming 'Free Speech', 'Free Palestine' and 'Free Mo Chara'. Delighted cheers went up when a van drove past displaying the slogan 'More Blacks, More Dogs, More Irish, Mo Chara'. There were plenty of keffiyeh scarves in evidence, as well as the odd leprechaun hat and what I think was an inflatable shamrock.

Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of NI be in the dock based on that logic?
Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of NI be in the dock based on that logic?

Belfast Telegraph

time10 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Belfast Telegraph

Kneecap's Mo Chara faces terror charge over a flag, but shouldn't half of NI be in the dock based on that logic?

Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh is accused of a terrorism offence: displaying a flag in support of proscribed organisation Hezbollah at a London gig. There were surreal scenes this week outside Westminster Magistrates' Court when Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh — aka Mo Chara of the Irish language rap group Kneecap — arrived together with his two band mates, Móglaí Bap and DJ Próvaí. An excited crowd waved flags, variously proclaiming 'Free Speech', 'Free Palestine' and 'Free Mo Chara'. Delighted cheers went up when a van drove past displaying the slogan 'More Blacks, More Dogs, More Irish, Mo Chara'. There were plenty of keffiyeh scarves in evidence, as well as the odd leprechaun hat and what I think was an inflatable shamrock.

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