Live Report: Kneecap deliver masterful homecoming spectacle

Even before Kneecap set foot on stage at North Dublin’s Fairview Park, it was clear to the more-than 8,000 in attendance that this wasn’t going to be just another gig. Far from it...

Beneath the big yellow tent, the atmosphere felt less like a concert and more like a cultural moment for Irish society: a mass gathering that testified not only to the immense popularity of the Belfast trio, but also to the place they have established at the centre of the national zeitgeist.

In the grounds outside, young local kids sold balaclavas and “Free Mo Chara” T-shirts. Giant Macnas-like puppets – including one of DJ Próvaí – made by local secondary school students loomed over the crowd. A local swap-shop near Fairview Park was also discreetly selling unreleased official Kneecap merch, gifted by the band themselves. Even Independent TD Barry Heneghan could be seen speaking Irish with his mates near the gates.

At a time when musical success is often gauged by Spotify metrics or TikTok virality, Kneecap offer something that feels defiantly analogue: an ability to truly connect with their fans through speaking up for others. Their rise isn’t built on algorithms, but rather through the group's ability to connect with people while remaining authentic and making a great noise.

On one level, the statements made by the band throughout the night – "the world is standing idly back while Palestinians get bombed to death” for example – seem obvious. So why are so many of the politicians in power across Europe and in the UK, and so many people with platforms, apparently so dumbstruck?

There was a palpable feeling in the crowd – a sense of rising anticipation – that we were all about to witness something historic. Something that could only be lived now, and maybe wouldn’t, or couldn't, happen in the same way again.

With the world increasingly veering toward violence – with new countries under attack every week and terrible death tolls dominating the news cycle, it felt as if Kneecap, in this moment, with everything they represent, were the most prominent voices calling out the sheer madness and brutality of it all.

Just 24 hours earlier, Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, better known as Mo Chara, had been standing in the dock at Westminster Magistrates’ Court, charged under UK anti-terror laws for allegedly displaying a Hezbollah flag at a London gig last year.

"It’s quite the cultural change," he quipped from the stage, "from being sat in a magistrates’ court yesterday." Pausing, he added dryly: "Definitely not the first lad from West Belfast to get that."

The 20-song set opened with the bubbling bounce of 'It’s Been Ages', a traditional set-starter now freighted with extra bite. Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap traded bars, as green strobes cut across the tent. The crowd, with hands up in the air and lungs open, roared in affirmation.

The energy never dipped.

"In the middle, nice and easy, open up, I wanna see a big one!" Móglaí Bap shouted, as the first mosh pits of the night began to form. "If anybody falls down, you have to pick them up — we’re a big Fenian family," he added.

It’s easy to focus on the chaos, the party. But Kneecap are as much poets as provocateurs, and this show had teeth. Between songs, Mo Chara delivered an extended speech on the genocide in Gaza and the inaction of Western governments.

"As Irish people, we understand genocide, we understand colonialism," he said. "We lived through a famine that killed a million and forced another million to emigrate. But even through that, we were never bombed from the sky with nowhere to go. Palestinians are being starved of food and aid. Israel are religious fanatics and the Irish people, as always, need to be on the right side of history."

Chants of Free Palestine rang out in reply.

Kneecap’s political fire is often – unjustly – called divisive, but last night showed it rather to be a unifying and inspiring force. They spoke plainly, without euphemism and without any poser's rhetoric.

What could easily curdle into nationalist posturing instead becomes something more generous, more effective: wherein pride in Irishness doesn't mean insularity, but rather empathy with outsiders, with the other, with the marginalised and oppressed of the world.

Their penultimate rap, 'The Recap', which was performed live for the first time in Ireland, featured a direct swipe at the Leader of the Conservative Party Kemi Badenoch, against whom the band recently won a legal case over the withdrawal of arts funding.

The closing run of tracks delivered the classic Kneecap hits: 'CEARTA', 'Get Your Brits Out', 'Parful' and 'Hood'. Each new song seemed to top the previous one, as they built to a crescendo, lifting the crowd to a higher level of unapologetic, glorious, youthful exuberance.

The night ended with DJ Próvaí leaving his decks to jump into the crowd and take over Moshpit Direction.

Kneecap Abú!