I’m posting the review below because I’m far from sure it will survive a call to the Editor from Culture Secretary Lisa Nandy. The Government which persists in selling arms to Israel has lost the dressing room here
Performing to a packed crowd of 40,000, Kneecap made Glastonbury’s other performers seem like makeweights in comparison Credit: Anthony Devlin/Hogan Media/Shutterstock
“Glastonbury, I’m a free man!” yelled Kneecap’s beleaguered rapper Mo Chara, inspiring a mass chant of “Free Mo Chara” that turned into several rounds of “Free, free Palestine!”
How can you hobble a band called Kneecap? The controversy around Irish punk-rap trio Kneecap’s rebellious political position is self-defeating. They are contrarian by design. On their own musical merits, they would be a marginal local gang chanting in an obscure language. But the bravery / foolhardiness / provocation (delete according to opinion) of their political posturing has catapulted them to the frontline of pop culture, and one of Glastonbury’s most oversubscribed and enthusiastically received headline sets, which took place at the West Holts stage on Saturday afternoon. Ironically, every time one of Kneecap’s critics speaks out, they are effectively shooting themselves in the foot.
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Before people started calling for them to be banned, the mischievous Irish trio were making a small but potent stir telling funny tales about modern life on the post-peace streets of Belfast. Condemnation for their support of the Palestinian cause has accelerated them into a whole other league. They have become the accidental poster boys for Palestine – and Glastonbury came out in force to show their support.
Kneecap’s DJ Próvai wears an Irish flag balaclava during his band’s Glastonbury set Credit: Jaimi Joy/Reuters
The Palestinian cause is close to Irish hearts, finding synchronicity in the small nation’s own history of colonialism. Two other popular young Irish artists – singer-songwriter CMAT and rock group Inhaler (led by Bono’s son Elijah Hewson) – led chants of “Free Palestine” yesterday, possibly as much in solidarity with their fellow Irishmen as the Palestinian cause. None of that caused even the remotest flurry at a festival that had its origins in the hippy era of peace and love.
It is Kneecap’s adoption of paraphernalia associated with historical terrorism in Northern Ireland that raises suspicions and goads their critics. Their logos and balaclavas mimic apparel worn by paramilitaries during the Northern Irish conflict. The trio themselves are in their mid-to-late 20’s and have grown up in the state of peace and reconciliation that followed the 1998 Good Friday agreement. Their sense of Irish nationalism may be deeply felt, but Kneecap’s take on the Troubles has a playfulness and mischief that comes at safe remove from the grimmest realities.
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One of the trio, Mo Chara, is on bail charged with a terrorism offence after allegedly displaying a flag representing Hezbollah, a proscribed organisation, at a gig in November last year.
In the Saturday gig, rapper Móglaí Bap called for fans to gather at the next court hearing and stage a riot but was soon walking that back with a disclaimer. “No riots, just love and support, and more support for Palestine.” This led to the first of several loud chants of “F— Kier Starmer!” which proved an even more popular chant amongst the young audience than “Free Palestine”.
“But are they any good?” poor Nick Robinson wailed on the Today programme, like a doddery old coot trying to comprehend what his grandkids see in the latest brash pop sensation. Well, yes and no, Nick. What Kneecap do is quite basic, even primitive: thudding electro beats with bog standard drum patterns and bass deep enough to vibrate your inner organs, topped with shouty rap lyrics tackling political issues with provocative wit. You might think of it as a cross between the Sex Pistols and the Beastie Boys, albeit with the musical chops of neither. But they deliver it with a passion, panache and humour that is irresistible, and in doing so they give space and focus for a young audience to express solidarity with the suffering of a beleaguered nation they might otherwise feel powerless to help. There was so much joy and emotion in the dancing in the densely packed crowd it was impossible to resist.
On some level, the most dangerous thing Kneecap did at Glastonbury was wear balaclavas and scarves in a heatwave. But their political passion makes every other band here look like makeweights. Condemning them just makes you look like a killjoy out of touch with the mood of a generation.
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