Five songs into Fenian, you hear rapper Móglaí Bap say he wants to go live off-grid near a small village in County Meath. He delivers it in his usual style—starting with “run along, fuck’s sake, I’m sick of you cunts”—but it still catches you off guard. After all, the wild, drug-fueled stories on Kneecap’s last album, Fine Art (2024), were set entirely in the city. At one point, his bandmate Mo Chara said his ideal spot was “the snug of a dimly-lit, shit, run-down pub,” probably like the rowdy Belfast bar where much of that album took place. Nothing about Kneecap has ever suggested they’d long for a simple country life.
But honestly, who can blame him for wanting to unplug and escape? The two years since Fine Art came out have been chaotic for the Irish rap trio, and it’s hard to tell how much their rising fame is about their music. Fine Art got good reviews—it was sharp, funny, and original—but it was quickly overshadowed by controversy. That started when Mo Chara was accused of waving a Hezbollah flag on stage at a London show in November 2024. He was later charged with terror offenses, which he denied—Kneecap said they’ve never supported Hezbollah and “always condemn all attacks on civilians.” The case was eventually thrown out. In the meantime, they faced canceled gigs and tours, bans from entering Canada and Hungary (which Kneecap strongly opposed), and calls from both Keir Starmer and Kemi Badenoch to drop their 2025 Glastonbury set. Badenoch had already clashed with them over their bold republicanism when she was business secretary, trying to cancel a grant they’d received—and Kneecap won that fight too.
“PR done on our behalf—as soon as you’re outraged, we’ve won,” Móglaí Bap snaps on a Fenian track called Big Bad Mo. But it’s not that simple. Kneecap now find themselves talked about more than listened to—far more people have opinions about them than have actually heard their music. That’s an unsettling and sometimes damaging place for an artist to be.
You get the sense from Fenian that Kneecap might realize this, even though the album’s most obvious feature is its defiant, triumphant attitude. It makes for a hugely entertaining listen, boosted by Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap’s skillful bilingual rapping and a fantastic musical backdrop from the band’s beat-maker DJ Próvaí and producer Dan Carey. Carnival opens with dark, Massive Attack-style sounds and a re-creation of Mo Chara’s trial, ending with “history will remember you pieces of shit and you’ll never be forgiven.” Smugglers & Scholars boasts “I’ll never learn my lesson, always the government’s obsession” over growling trap beats. Liars Tale—a gripping mix of sharp rave synths, pounding house drums, and a distorted bassline that quotes T. Rex’s Children of the Revolution—calls Keir Starmer “a cunt.” And the track Palestine links west Belfast with the West Bank, features a guest spot from Ramallah-based rapper Fawzi, and ends with “we won’t stop until everyone is free.”
But beneath the attention-grabbing stuff—mostly packed at the start—there’s another side to Fenian. As the album goes on, a different mood takes over: less swagger, more unease. Big Bad Mo’s bragging is set to restless, chattering acid house that shifts noticeably in tone, growing darker, less celebratory, more anxious and intense. In fact, the hedonism…The classic good times of Fine Art are nowhere to be found here. The main character in the drum-and-bass-driven track Headcase is clearly wasted, with “no plan … can’t cope.” Cold at the Top brings Mo Chara back to his favorite local bar in a party mood, but he’s weighed down by paranoia and self-hatred tied to his fame – “I’m so full of myself, I’m so full of shit.” Cocaine Hill, driven by mournful guitar chords and an eerie chorus from Lankum’s Radie Peat, feels frantic, panicked, and bleak.
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As sharp and quotable as Liars Tale or the Brit-bashing An Ra are (the latter offers, “very grateful for sharing your culture with us, Jimmy Savile and HP Sauce”), the standout track is the Kae Tempest-assisted closer Irish Goodbye. It’s a meditation on the suicide of Móglaí Bap’s mother. The music trots along, sounding oddly cheerful and completely at odds with the mournful lyrics. It’s a skillful finish to a compelling, smart, and impressive album.
What this album isn’t, at least as a whole, is the defiant victory lap some have praised it as. Fenian is more complex, intriguing, and tense than that, which makes sense. Kneecap’s current notoriety is a complicated and potentially risky situation: Fenian suggests they have more than enough talent to handle it.
This week Alexis listened to
John and Beverley Martyn – Auntie Aviator
News of Beverley Martyn’s death sent me back to 1970’s The Road to Ruin, especially Auntie Aviator with its beautiful dusk-over-the-city atmosphere and soaring – if ultimately misplaced – sense of romantic optimism.
This article was updated on 1 May with a correction: Móglaí Bap raps the lines quoted in the opening paragraph, not Mo Chara.
Frequently Asked Questions
Here is a list of FAQs about the Kneecap Fenian review by Alexis Petridis
BeginnerLevel Questions
1 Who is Kneecap
They are a hiphop trio from Belfast Northern Ireland They rap in Irish and English and are known for their political and often controversial lyrics about Irish republicanism
2 What is Fenian
Fenian is the name of Kneecaps debut album The word Fenian is a historical term for Irish republicans often used as a slur by unionists in Northern Ireland The band is reclaiming it
3 Who is Alexis Petridis
He is the chief music critic for The Guardian newspaper in the UK His Album of the Week feature is a highly respected review
4 Did Alexis Petridis like the album
Yes he gave it a very positive review He awarded it a 4star rating and named it his Album of the Week
5 What is the main point of his review
He argues that the album successfully mixes hardhitting political rap with energetic danceable beats He says its both a serious statement and a lot of fun
AdvancedLevel Questions
6 How does Petridis address the controversy around Kneecaps politics
He doesnt shy away from it He acknowledges that their lyrics are unapologetically republican and antiBritish state but he frames it as a genuine local perspective rather than just shock value He notes its a potent brew that might alienate some listeners
7 What specific musical comparisons does he make in the review
He compares their sound to early Die Antwoord and The Prodigy He also notes the influence of UK drill and grime
8 Does he mention the use of the Irish language
Yes extensively He praises the way they switch between Irish and English saying it adds a unique texture and rhythmic flow He notes that even if you dont understand Irish the emotion and aggression are clear
9 What does he say about the albums production
He highlights the production by Toddla T calling it
