How Northern Irish Rap Trio Kneecap Rose by Subverting the Troubles

In a striking Northern Ireland paradox, one of the fiercest critics of rioters throwing petrol bombs at police vehicles is the hip-hop trio Kneecap, a group that skyrocketed to international fame literally atop a smoking police Land Rover.

Kneecap made a grand entrance at the Sundance Film Festival this year, with members riding into Utah waving smoke canisters from a vehicle mocked up as a Police Service of Northern Ireland vehicle.

Their repertoire also includes a mural of a burning police vehicle, imagery that features prominently in a film about the group. This film has been named Ireland’s Oscar submission for the international feature category and is set to open in British cinemas this week.

Naoise Ó Cairealláin, 30, also known as the rapper Móglaí Bap, voiced his distrust of law enforcement: “When you have rocket-proof jeeps on the streets and policemen with semi-automatic rifles, it doesn’t really conjure up that feeling of community policing and love. It creates a real divide between the community and police.”

Yet, in an interview with the Observer, Ó Cairealláin and bandmate JJ Ó Dochartaigh, 34, known as DJ Próvaí, reiterated their criticism of the rioters in Belfast who have attacked immigrant-owned property and hurled missiles at police.

“They’re turning their anger at the wrong people,” said Ó Dochartaigh, suggesting the state that starved communities of funding should be the target. “They should be aiming up… and not at these immigrants. It’s not long ago that the Irish were treated the exact same way whenever we went to England and other places around the world. People have a short memory.”

In essence, a burning police Land Rover is about context, a nuance at the heart of one of the most controversial bands to emerge from the UK and Ireland since the Sex Pistols.

The trio, including Liam Óg Ó Hannaidh, 26, also known as Mo Chara, fuse the Irish language, republican totems, Troubles iconography, and punk brio into an explosive mix that incites both rapture and condemnation. Their stage performances and screen appearances blur irony and provocation into high-octane spectacles that have wowed Glastonbury, won Sundance’s audience award, and galvanized a surge in interest in the Irish language.

The quasi-autobiographical film “Kneecap”, written and directed by Rich Peppiatt, stars the trio as versions of themselves. The cast includes Michael Fassbender, and the biopic is playing across the US. Distributor Sony is eyeing award nominations after the film claimed the biggest Irish box office weekend opening for an Irish language film.

The New York Times described the film as “gleefully chaotic”, celebrating its underdog narrative and unique touches. Variety called it a “riotous, drug-laced triumph in the name of freedom that bridges political substance and crowd-pleasing entertainment”, while Time Out highlighted its “blizzard of beats, bumps of white powder, and punky defiance”. Rotten Tomatoes’ audience score hit an impressive 96%.

Coincidentally, the film’s release has overlapped with a wave of anti-immigrant riots jumping from England to Northern Ireland. Ó Dochartaigh, wearing his trademark balaclava, noted that fascists used misinformation to manipulate protesters. “People feel like anything on Facebook is real and it’s truth. They’re just being puppets. People aren’t thinking critically anymore. It’s so hard for them to differentiate between fact and fiction.”

Kneecap views its own blend of fact and fiction as belonging to a different category, but not everyone is convinced. Youths from a republican area of Derry recently clashed with police, leaving ten officers injured, in an incident unrelated to immigration tensions.

Critic Leona O’Neill questioned this, asking in the Irish News, “Celebrating a mural of a burning police vehicle is right, but physically burning a police vehicle in real life is wrong? Some of the burning vehicle antics is a dehumanization of the police that only complements other players in the field.”

Ó Dochartaigh clarified that the band does not advocate violence. “We don’t want to see anybody getting hurt. But there’s never really been any love for police in our areas for obvious reasons. They were never really representative of the community.”

Kneecap occupies a unique cultural niche as post-Good Friday Agreement provocateurs, audacious rebels, and Irish language pioneers. This mix has both baffled and affronted publications like the Daily Mail.

Kemi Badenoch, the Conservative government’s business secretary, withheld an arts grant, arguing that people opposed to the UK should not receive taxpayer money. Kneecap contested the decision, asserting that they pay UK taxes and that the issue is one of freedom of expression rather than money.

Some detractors accuse Kneecap of glamorizing terrorism. The group’s name references paramilitary punishment attacks that inflicted grievous injuries on petty criminals. But the name is meant to be ironic, with Kneecap’s raps celebrating defiance of all authority, including that of the IRA.

In a surreal twist, the film features a cameo from Gerry Adams, who is widely believed to have led the IRA while it was conducting kneecappings. Adams denies ever being a member of the IRA.

Kneecap’s earlier work merged an assertive Gaelic identity with hood culture, but the trio do not seem to be authentic “hoods,” according to Belfast commentator Malachi O’Doherty. He suggested there’s a level of dishonesty in their presentation as “worthless layabouts”.

O’Doherty expressed surprise at Adams’ collaboration with the group and that they would want his endorsement. “Maybe what their success suggests is that hood culture and provie culture are now parodied rather than preserved with any integrity.”

For Kneecap, the Troubles are history ripe for subversion. The controversial chant “ooh, ah, up the ’Ra” by the folk group Wolfe Tones is a prime example. Victims of IRA violence find it hurtful, but Ó Dochartaigh argues that for many, the phrase has lost its sting and is now just something that sounds good.

Ó Dochartaigh, a former school teacher, credits films like “The Quiet Girl” and other Irish language productions for paving the way for Kneecap, praising the current wave of Irish music and arts, including bands like Fontaines DC, Lankum, The Mary Wallopers, and The Scratch.

Kneecap plans to record another album and collaborate with indigenous language performers from Australia, Wales, and North America. “If we have this monolithic one-language world where everything is the same, it’ll be very boring,” said Ó Cairealláin. “We’re on a mission to try to connect with cultures all around the world. Not everything has to be in English. I think there’s enough art in English at the moment.”