Kneecap at Cork City Hall
The lash of a February rain and the hundreds of sweaty bodies had created a thick humid air inside the Cork City Hall venue. Running a few minutes late for doors, the security barely scanned our tickets before waving us through towards the concert. As we got closer to the entrance, I could feel the bass vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. I felt that familiar buzz of anticipation on the threshold before entering what I knew would be a high energy gig. Kneecap are known for their dynamic performances and headline-worthy antics, and so we were happy to squeeze through the packed room to get closer to the stage.
Glancing around the sold-out venue, the younger age demographic was apparent. It was a crowd of bum bags, perfectly styled mullets, shirts that read ‘Póg Mo Thóin,’ and flashes of naggins. But what caught my eye were the older attendees I could pick out in the audience: a woman in her late 30’s with bleached hair that reflected the green lights coming from the stage, a couple around 40 who knew all the lyrics to ‘C.E.A.R.T.A.’ Kneecap’s drug reference heavy songs might be anthems of youth culture, but their music clearly hasn’t alienated everyone over 35 as some might assume.
A call to action is yelled through the mic: “C’mon you fenian c*nts!”
On stage: the trio that have become infamous for their boundary-pushing lyricism, their outspoken nature against inequality, and their love of class A’s. DJ Próvaí stood by the decks in his classic tri-colour balaclava, the master-mind behind the musical production that pounded into my eardrums and had the crowd jumping in unison. Behind him was a large LED screen used to show visuals throughout the night. The lights pulsed to the beat, illuminating the room in flashes as rappers Mó Chara and Móglaí Bap ran across the stage. Waving their arms as a signal for the crowd to cheer louder, they relished in the enthusiasm of their fans.
Their stage presence is undeniable. For the 80 minutes of their performance, Mo Chara’s energy didn’t falter. He leaned his whole being into every bar, every lyric, every syllable. Dressed in his familiar understated clothing: black trackies, black North Face jacket zipped up to his chin, black runners, he commanded the attention of the room. Swaggering across the stage, shouting the choruses into the mic, stopping to hold his arms outstretched and bathe in the sound of the audience screaming his lyrics back at him.
Móglaí Bap’s performance, in comparison, was more subdued. His gaze as he strutted across the stage was often fixated on the ground. His characteristic braggadocious persona was missing and in its place he had a more contemplative inward disposition. Uninformed audience members might’ve thought he was suffering from a hangover, or tired from the last night’s performance. However, this gig was originally meant to take place in December, and was rescheduled because of the passing of Móglaí Bap’s father. Only a few weeks separated this young man’s tragic loss, and the performance he was determined to give his fans. His band members filled the room with palpable energy, but allowed space for Móglaí Bap to deliver his verses to his ability. It didn’t detract from the performance, it amplified a feeling of unity that filled the City Hall.
The large LED screen behind DJ Próvaí’s balaclava-clad head read “Free Palestine” and “Stop the Genocide” for much of the performance. Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap stopped between songs several times to speak on the atrocities happening before chants of ‘Free Free Palestine’ erupted through the room. For a moment, I nearly forgot I was at a rap gig as opposed to a protest.
In between playing tracks such as, 3CAG, Sick in The Head, and Parful off their critically-acclaimed new album Fine Art, they performed older hits such as H.O.O.D, Get Your Brits Out, and Your Sniffer Dogs Are Shite. Watching Kneecap casually dressed in trackies and performing songs about smoking drugs and sniffing lines in a venue with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling was quite the juxtaposition.
Halfway through the performance, Mo Chara’s voice boomed through the speakers calling to open up space for a mosh pit: “Remember to be careful. If someone falls you pick them the f*** up. We don’t leave anyone on the ground here, ya hear me?” A quiet spread through the venue as people shuffled towards the walls to open up a circle in the middle of the floor, until DJ Próvaí gave the signal, the music pumped again, and people rushed towards the centre. In the momentary illumination of strobing lights, I caught glimpses of girls and shirtless lads getting knocked around together. The trio later refused to continue playing until people “got up on each other’s f*ckin’ shoulders.” They called out for energy, for atmosphere, for their audience to lean into the young and uninhibited attitude their music was all about, and the audience happily obliged.
Kneecap are a band that some may consider controversial, but it is undeniable how strong of an influence their music, and they themselves have. They represent something to people, maybe a different few ‘somethings’ depending on who’s listening. To some, they instilled a heartbeat back into the Irish language. They pumped it full of young blood and showed that Gaeilge has a place in contemporary culture. To others they stand up for causes they believe in as they call for a Free Palestine, a united Ireland, and to legitimise the Irish language. And to some, they represent both the fun and freedom of youth, and the disillusionment of being a young person in Ireland.
As we all poured back out into the rain, I could hear words of Irish among friends, and words of lament for their inability to converse as Gaeilge. There was a palpable buzz of energy after the gig, from a good night, and from being young and slightly tipsy and the feeling of possibility that comes with it. Kneecap’s music might not be to everyone’s taste, and the way they express their political beliefs might make a few gasp with disproval, but they have established themselves as icons of Irish youth culture. They are a band with something to say, and even if the music or ethos of Kneecap isn’t really for you, they undeniably put on one hell of a show.