At Glastonbury Festival, you can look at a mural which posits sending J.K Rowling and Elon Musk to Mars. You can visit a CND stall and sign their ‘Nurses not Nukes’ petition. You can take a selfie with an installation in the Greenpeace field, titled ‘The Hell Bus’, which replaces the S in the Shell logo with a flame. And, if you want, you can even stand in feeble silence as The 1975’s Matty Healy proclaims “we don’t need more politics.” But sure, Kneecap are the ones who don’t fit in. Kneecap are too incendiary for such a moderate, a-political environment. Kneecap are “not appropriate” for Glastonbury.
On the 28th of June, Kneecap played a massive show at Glastonbury’s West Holts stage. In the weeks prior to these performances, a secret letter, signed by 30 music executives, protested that Kneecap be pulled from the line-up. Leader of the opposition, Kemi Badenoch, wrote on X: “The BBC should not be showing Kneecap propaganda.” I find the conflation of broadcasting with support for the band, ridiculous. Journalists have a responsibility to keep the public informed of newsworthy events, regardless of their personal views. The crowd gathered by Kneecap at Glastonbury was so large that the West Holts field had to be shut down 45 minutes before the band hit the stage – that is newsworthy.
Onstage at West Holts, the band joked that “the BBC will have some job editing”, regarding the dozens of Palestine flags flying above the crowd. This comment speaks to the other impact of failure to broadcast: obscuring the massive support for the band’s cause. Headlines alone might present Kneecap as pariahs, as extremists, but they cannot capture the fun of being in that audience. The band were on form from the moment Mo Chara declared “Glastonbury, I’m a free man!” They were darkly funny, engaging the audience with conversational banter (“anyone going to see Prod Stewart later?”) that recalled the satirical voice their music is famous for (Re. ‘Get Your Brits Out’).
The music itself was thudding and bassy, booming under our feet. The contrast between Móglaí Bap’s drawling flow and Mo Chara’s feverish speed was dynamic and personable. In the pit, I was reminded of a quote by Mo Chara from a 2021 article: “we can “roundhouse” you off the stage but we can also give you a hug afterwards.” I can speak to my own experience – the Kneecap crowd won’t let you be trampled; they’ll have you back on your feet in seconds. Even the characteristically elusive DJ Próvaí came down from the stage, to the raucous cheering of the fans below.
When you watch the abridged Kneecap performance which is now available on the iPlayer, you should listen to the music, not only the controversy which has threatened to drown it out. I think you will be surprised by the undercurrent of heart, humour, and optimism, that the mainstream media has largely excluded from coverage of the band.
Photo by Shenice Friday