Kneecap
Fairview Park, Dublin
★★★★★
Far from the gloomy halls of Westminster Magistrates’ Court, Kneecap arrive at Fairview Park defiant and full of energy. “Quite the culture change” is how they describe their new surroundings.
Here the trio are conductors, skilfully orchestrating their congregation and punctuating an explosive set with humour and powerful monologues. A phrase from the American poet Toi Derricotte that the punk outfit Idles borrowed comes to mind: joy is an act of resistance.
Detractors fundamentally and deliberately misinterpret what Kneecap are doing. Even softer-sounding labels of “controversial” and “agitating” distract from a very simple 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 needs to be persuaded on Thursday in Fairview, but it doesn’t diminish their importance.
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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.
An early monologue addresses the court case. Mo Chara (Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh), who has been charged with a terrorism offence in the UK for allegedly displaying a flag in support of Hizbullah at a gig in London last year, says that Kneecap have beaten the British government before – in their successful legal challenge in November over withheld arts funding – and will do so again.
Later in the night Mo Chara spends several considered minutes in 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 Shite are early defibrillators. This is a rave that relies on participation; 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 that 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 CEARTA, 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, are mirrored by an array of their national contemporaries.
Explorative, parochial, socially conscious artists who 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.
