'This is a carnival of distraction. We are not the story', the group said in a statement on X. 'Genocide is.'
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Fury is a Fine Art
'I can see the amount of Palestinian flags here and it’s insane. The BBC editors are going to have some job,' announced Kneecap’s Mo Chara at Glastonbury 2025. By the time they hit the stage at Worthy Farm, Kneecap were locked in and defiant. Rumours that the BBC would censor or pull their broadcast only amplified their message. The result? A blistering flashpoint that will go down as one of the most talked-about performances in Glastonbury history.
Kneecap. Photo: Joshua Mulholland
"A blistering flashpoint that will go down as one of the most talked-about performances in Glastonbury history."
This has become the trio’s party line since Israel launched its brutal assault on Gaza in 2023 following Hamas’s October 7th attack. Kneecap made global headlines with their Coachella set in April — using the platform to shine a scorching light on war crimes. The backlash was immediate, with political pressure from US and UK figures, alongside music industry heavyweights, pushing to have their Glastonbury slot pulled.
Nice try. It only added fuel to the fire.
Kneecap. Photo: Joshua Mulholland
Formed by Mo Chara (Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh), Móglaí Bap (Naoise Ó Cairealláin), and DJ Próvaí (JJ Ó Dochartaigh), Kneecap’s rise has been nothing short of surreal — from pub gigs to a critically acclaimed mockumentary, and now to the centre of international controversy. They rap in a hybrid of Irish and English; much of it is indecipherable to many fans, but that’s the point. The energy is ferocious. The lines between jokes and reality are blurred. The medium is the message. Kneecap shows have always been politically charged — now, the charges are literal.
Kneecap, Fine Art, 2024. Album cover
"The energy is ferocious. The lines between jokes and reality are blurred."
Musically, too, their style is anarchic, hybrid and aggressive – think Beastie Boys as reconceived by a big beat drum and bass producer, repurposing the high-energy of rave, bringing lasers, sardonic visuals and a melee of mosh pits.
Kneecap. Photo: Joshua Mulholland
"a volatile mix of controlled rage, satire, and chaos"
Over the past three months, they’ve doubled down, shoulder-tackling the institutionalised British and American media with a volatile mix of controlled rage, satire, and chaos, hitting all the nerve endings along the way. Their message is unmistakable: challenge power, resist silence, and stand on the right side of history, no matter the cost.
LIAM ÓG Ó HANNAIDH as Mo Chara or Liam Óg in ‘Kneecap’ Image: Ryan Kernaghan. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
Their approach is brash, but undeniably necessary. Scroll through any Glastonbury-related post and you’ll see just how polarising they’ve become. Tens of thousands are behind them — and yet the establishment is sharpening its knives, desperate to restore order. Coachella lit the match. Glastonbury set it ablaze.
But with fire comes pressure.
LIAM ÓG Ó HANNAIDH as Mo Chara or Liam Óg, JJ Ó DOCHARTAIGH as DJ Próvai or JJ, NAOISE Ó CAIREALLÁIN as Móglaí Bap or Naoise in 'Kneecap’ Image: Helen Sloan. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
'The stress that we’re feeling is minimal compared to the Palestinians,' says Mo Chara, who now faces a UK court hearing in August. The investigation stems from remarks made on stage and in videos, including one that allegedly shows him waving a Hezbollah flag. While one charge, linked to the phrase 'Kill your local MP,' has been dropped this week following Glastonbury, terrorism charges remain on the table.
From Kneecap’s perspective, these legal attacks are absurd when set against the scale of destruction in Gaza, and they intend to fight them in court.
Kneecap. Photo: Joshua Mulholland
"In a fog of smoke, mirrors, and money, the music industry, once a space for rebellion, now resembles a maze of moral cowardice."
This dystopian reality — where artists face prosecution for protest while the crimes they condemn continue unchecked— is playing out in real time. It exposes how deeply compromised the political and cultural establishment has become. In a fog of smoke, mirrors, and money, the music industry, once a space for rebellion, now resembles a maze of moral cowardice.
But in trying to silence Kneecap, the system has only amplified them. An Irish-language rap group from West Belfast is now front and centre in a global reckoning, playing to the biggest crowd of their lives, a sea of Palestinian flags.
NAOISE Ó CAIREALLÁIN as Móglaí Bap or Naoise, MICHAEL FASSBENDER as Arló Ó Cairealláin in ‘Kneecap’ Image: Helen Sloan. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
Let’s be clear: the Irish endured 800 years of British colonial rule. Kneecap understands occupation. Their solidarity with Palestine isn’t symbolic — it’s lived, generational, and emotionally immediate.
'The Palestinians have nowhere to go. They’re being bombed from the skies, starved to death. Israel are war criminals. If you’re not calling it a genocide — what the fuck are you calling it?' asks Mo Chara.
Kneecap. Photo: Joshua Mulholland
"Kneecap are holding up a mirror to Britain’s hypocrisies"
Meanwhile, journalist Owen Jones reported on 2 July in his BattleLines newsletter that over 100 BBC employees have signed a letter to Director General Tim Davie, accusing the Corporation of becoming 'a mouthpiece for Israel.'
This isn’t about semantics. It’s about power, who gets to speak, who is punished for dissent, and who is protected by silence.
While Western media debates what was said on stage at Glastonbury, more than 200 lives have been lost in Gaza this week alone. Kneecap are holding up a mirror to Britain’s hypocrisies — and that reflection is making a lot of powerful people very uncomfortable.