'Kneecap' Is Here to Hit You Where it Matters
Kneecap, an Irish-language hip hop trio from West Belfast, have exploded over the past seven years with pounding, hedonistic rave and house tracks, all born from a young, culturally-specific Northern Irish perspective. Historically, rap has always used language in an explicitly political way – the global appeal of the genre’s emphatic, urgent, and rhythmic compositions means rap has been adopted by underground communities and marginalized voices all across the world who perform incisive and riotous numbers that invigorate (and potentially radicalize) their audience. At its core, it’s a tool to shake us awake and demand recognition in your own political sphere.
The group uses Irish, the endangered language also known as Gaelic, to demand attention in a culturally contested space. If sectarian and unionist forces seek to politicize and sequester the Irish, Kneecap’s aim is to keep it vital and growing. Their satiric hip-hop accounts of partying through West Belfast resonate with a generation growing up in the wake of the Good Friday Agreement, who resist how history defines modern Northern Irish identity.
Their group was formed after they refused to talk to the police in anything but Irish; the cursing and drug references in their songs got them banned by radio stations and condemned by unionist politicians; their name refers to the violent punishment dealt out by paramilitary Irish Republicans. A challenged political status is baked into the band’s blood, and it’s all down to band members Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap, and DJ Próvaí that Kneecap, the fictionalized account of the band’s early days, has enough of a fiery, whipsmart energy.
