Review by Jeremy Elwood
“Three lads from West Belfast, rapping in Irish…we never thought we’d pull a crowd on the Falls Road, and here we are pulling a crowd in Auckland.” The jetlagged appreciation of Kneecap’s Móglaí Bap was clear towards the end of their phenomenal performance at the Powerstation last night. He, Mo Chara and DJ Próvaí were in front of a sold-out crowd who were clearly equally happy that these unlikely stars had come this far.
If you haven’t yet been exposed to the Kneecap phenomenon, you could do worse than start with their highly entertaining (and highly fictionalised) self-titled movie. It’s available to rent on streaming platforms, or as the band themselves suggested they would prefer, “go to some dodgy site and get it for free.” The basics, at least, are true. Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, Naoise Ó Cairealláin and J.J. Ó Dochartaigh (Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap and DJ Próvaí’s real names, respectively) met in West Belfast, and released their first single C.E.A.R.T.A late in 2017. All three are Gaeilgeoirí (native Irish speakers), and naturally used the language in their music, which quickly became not only a point of difference but a rallying call for their audiences.
Which is not, in any way, to suggest that Kneecap are a novelty act. These guys can rap; spitting verses with dexterity and flow over thumping beats that draw on everything from Grime to early Beastie Boys – esque samples. They wear their politics proudly (and literally, in the case of DJ Próvaí’s signature tri-colour balaclava), but blend them into drug-fueled party anthems which had the mosh pit writhing. Songs titles like “Get Your Brits Out” and “Fenian C#*ts” aren’t exactly subtle, but there’s a satirical joy running throughout – the exhilaration of raising a finger to the authorities on a drunken night out.
The politics were on full display throughout the night, starting with the brilliant opening act Swizl Jager. Mo Chara summed it up best – “A dude rapping in his native language, wearing a Free Palestine T-Shirt – they couldn’t have come up with a better opening act for us. Legend”. (It was actually a “Never Ceded” treaty T-Shirt, with a Free Palestine banner draped over DJ Plastic’s decks, but the point stands.)
Irish, Palestinian and Tino Rangatiratanga flags were dotted around the heaving crowd, call and responses were hollered back in both Te Reo and English, and Kneecaps’ attempts at pronouncing a “Kia Ora” or “Aotearoa” were loudly welcomed. I seriously doubt anyone from ACT or NZ First was in attendance, which is a real shame because this was in-your-face proof that celebrating unique languages and cultures is a source of immense power and pride, and any attempts to supress that pride are doomed to irrelevance.
The messages were heard loud and clear – the only issue on the night was seeing anything. Kneecap performed in a gloom brought about by having no front-on lighting at all – something I have to assume was a major technical issue, rather than an artistic choice. It meant we only got glimpses of the boys when they straddled the monitors or, in DJ Próvaí’s case waded into and over the pit itself for the final number “H.O.O.D”.
Despite that, Kneecap were short, sharp and superb – they only played for just over an hour, but I doubt anyone there will forget it, no matter what language they use to describe it.