After months of intense vilification, the heat around Kneecap finally seems to have dropped off. Part of that is undoubtedly because Bob Vylan have become the designated media scapegoat instead, but also because charges of terrorism against Mo Chara (which, to remind you, were a reaction to speaking out against Israelâs genocide of Palestine) were thrown out of court within the last few weeks. Ultimately, public opinion does seem to be favouring the side of the oppressed, with Kneecapâs platform of support growing in turn. For all the concerted boycotts and banning efforts theyâve had to face, theyâve only come back swinging and then some. They headlined Wembley Arena a month or so back, coming after a headline set at 2000trees, high-profile slots with Fontaines D.C. and plenty of other massive sets across Europe.
They arenât slowing down, either. Tonight, they headline Liverpoolâs Blackstone Street Warehouse, a space typically used for raves thatâs housing this sold-out, 10,000-capacity show. With its own food stalls and outdoor seating, itâs shaped like a proper event, more so than standard show. The clientele make that clear as well, if it were under any doubt how far Kneecapâs reach extends. Here, youâll see T-shirts repping a range of Aphex Twin to Motörhead to Nails, on top of Britpop bucket-hatters to your standard Saturday nighters andânaturallyâa hefty Irish contingent among it all. Rarely has a hip-hop act felt so uniquely tribeless, or so punk in the grassroots way itâs accumulated that status.
If there is a unifying sentiment, itâs one of social awareness and a general timbre of progressivism. Itâs what feels like launchpad for Miss Kaninna to really go off, despite being a rapper whose half-hour doesnât contain a lot of rapping. To broach that with negativity would be missing the point, though. On a stage playing host to one of the most geopolitically significant acts in modern years, expecting a flat performer as an opener is missing the point. As an Aboriginal woman, sheâs privy to realities of apartheid and segregation in Australia that people in Liverpool would rarely, if ever, consider. Itâs illuminating to hear her speak, blanketed in the populist call for freedom for all indigenous peoples. When we do get to the music, thatâs good too, albeit in the very small doses in which these short songs appear. Even so, the knocks of Pinnacle Bitch and Blak Britney are infinitely infectious, and Stolen Wages packs a nice, grisly guitar sample for her most distinct cut. Regardless of what form it takes, thereâs always something with Miss Kaninna worth hanging on.
As for KneecapâŠwell, surely you know what to expect from them by now. Switched-on politicking has become their bread and butter, and ultimately the catalyst for getting them this high. Tonight, though, spirits do seem to be higher, where the air of vindication is hard to miss. The facts are still laid outâan series of slides to open outlines the British governmentâs complicity with genocideâbut notable emphasis is placed on the morale of the Palestinian people seeing support from those on the other side of the world. Itâs less pointed a sentiment than Kneecap have become known for, though thereâs still plenty of sharpness on that receiving end for politicians and systems looking to stymie progress. In the repeated phrase from their last visit to Liverpool (âthe 33rd county of Irelandâ), the kinship from standing firm against shared austerity swells immensely.
Itâs one of a number of factors that keeps Kneecap sounding fresh as the ply more or less the exact setlist theyâve had for ages. Youâd think it might start to peter out by now, but thatâs emphatically not the case. This environment, for one, is a breath of new life unto itselfâspacious and rave-ready, with the means to show off the arena-ready production theyâre clearly chuffed to have. Itâs an impressive array of lights and graphics theyâve now got, fully compensating for how Kneecap themselves do get swallowed up by this scale. Neither Mo Chara nor MĂłglaĂ Bap are showman, exacerbated by the smoke and shadow that makes them hard to even catch a glimpse of. Granted, in a venue like this, the minimised physical presence of the performer is nothing new. If youâre here at all, the cartoons of thrusting politicians and caricatured tits and arses in Union Jack underwear are likely more of a stimulus.
And thatâs clearly not a secret to Kneecap themselves. Spaces like this are probably what they had in mind with the low, incessant slam of Your Sniffer Dogs Are Shite, or the hardened, pulse-pounding rush that accompanies the one-two of SayĆnara and Iâm Flush. And as always, lyrics in Irish prove a surprisingly climbable barrier to entry. There are people rapping along to every word, likely through memetic recall, but also because thereâs still nothing like this in the public consciousness. In their own ways, Fenian Cunts, Better Way To Live and C.E.A.R.T.A have a pop readiness that still absolutely launches. The same could be said for the bold singalong hook of Get Your Brits Out, or the gleaming EDM rise of Parful thatâs right at home here. The appeal of Kneecap sings out on such an unmistakable level, especially as they only grow more and more.
And to an extent, this does read like a victory lap. Other than the solitary new song No Comment (a collaboration with Sub Focus, no less), it really is just Kneecap doing as Kneecap do. But have they not earned that? After months battling literal and figurative war machines bearing down on them, theyâve emerged victorious into some of their biggest shows to date. Itâs not like theyâre spinning their wheels, either; the music speaks for itself, and the atmosphere of the Warehouse is the perfect amplifier. If anything, it all serves as the new thickest underline for how important Kneecap are. An Irish hip-hop trio making music entirely their own way are not only one of the lynchpin acts in current political discourse, but are playing a part in changing the tide. A terrific show is one thing; knowing that youâre witnessing an ongoing, ever-changing phenomenon is something else entirely.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Maryleen Guevara (Instagram / Website)
