Fine Art, Joe

The framework of "oppressed vs. oppressor" seems generally to be a good way to hook me. Anything that makes an attempt to claw and scratch at the boot that is currently pressing down on your neck, I like it. Kneecap really leans into it here, at least aesthetically speaking. The news story sampled toward the beginning of the album is an actual clip. They really did advertise their tour by lighting a police van on fire and drawing rude cartoons to piss off the right-wing government stooges. Without even stating a position in any given example of this framework, I'll say that the idea of examining oppression is one that interests me, philosophically and emotionally, and I won't complain when it shows up in music.

Now, this certainly isn't the first rap album that examines a national political scene and chooses a side. However, unlike political albums from our own country like Run the Jewels or Person(a) or McGruff the Crime Dog (seriously), I'm not really all that familiar with the Irish politics or rebellion, and I didn't have enough information coming into this week to arrive having already chosen a side. That's where the "oppressed vs. oppressor" stuff comes in handy. Sometimes, it really is that simple. It's simple to believe that there is an oppressive force attempting to tamper down a class of people, and it's simple to believe that we should follow the music of the people who are attempting to rise up and fight back and defend themselves.

If this is protest music—maybe, maybe not, more on this in a second—then the onus is on someone like me, an ignorant American indie rock boy, to at least do some cursory research. What I knew prior to this is that there has historically been and still remains tension between the Irish and the English, especially in Northern Ireland, which is legally part of the U.K., but obviously has a rich Irish history still. I spent one night in Belfast, years ago, and some dude tried to pick a fight with me because my ancestors spurned the British King and created America, which was pretty strange, and I'm 98% sure he wasn't joking about fighting, so, like, I get why Kneecap is pissed in this particular way.

But what I learned was that the Irish language itself has historically been at risk of disappearing in Northern Ireland, as the British have tried to dispel it. I knew that Irish was a real language (probably only because Pat has spoken it a couple times on this blog), but I guess I didn't realize that even speaking the language could constitute rebellious behavior, depending on where you are. This is part and parcel of Kneecap's origin story and stated purpose. They got together because their mutual pal was arrested and refused to speak English to the cops. They purposefully rap in as much Irish as they can to piss off anyone who has a problem with that. By speaking Irish, they are identifying themselves with the oppressed, and are proving that there are oppressors and that those oppressors are sowing discord and injustice.

I'm viewing Fine Art from within that framework, and so that's interesting from an album-reviewing perspective, because now we can't really say the thing we usually say when we come across a foreign-language album. Ya know, "I couldn't quite connect with this as much as I had hoped because I couldn't understand what they were saying." That's not a valid criticism this time around! If you say that, you are being oppressive! I think I appreciated my hands being tied in this way, because it forced me to consider the album as a whole on an emotional level as opposed to a literal level. I don't know what they are saying most of the time, but I know what they mean.

I get a sense, from what little translation has already been done for us and from the English lyrics that I can understand already, that Fine Art is not filled with all that many politically-charged lyrics. Some, but the lyrics appear to tend toward chaos and jokes and drug use more so than statements of protest. Which is not a criticism either, just a fact (or an assumption, technically). And filthy jokes and explicit drug references can be their own form of protest, if done right. E.g. oh the fucking Brits are gonna tell us that we can't rap about smoking a fucking joint?!

The decision on lyrical content informs the production. The tempo and instrumentation makes it sound like a rave. It's busy and fast and euphoric. The "concept" of the album is that it's supposed to reflect a night out in Belfast, and it's not just the bite-sized interstitial skits that add to the idea. A song like "I'm Flush" is cathartic in the way that it mirrors the feeling you get on those can't-miss nights on the town. (In this way, it honestly sounds like a hip-hop version of the Arctic Monkeys album we covered, even though that would risk the oppression framework falling apart, not to mention that AM are BRITISH.) It's not just espousing progressive ideals, it's describing the anarchy of spending recreational time with like-minded people. It's interesting and occasionally thrilling to hear the production reflect that.

It's not perfect. It never is. The self-mythologizing occasionally comes off as tacky. The skits are short but often brutally inessential (except "Kneecap Chaps," which is gets a visceral reaction from me, so appalled am I by the idea of a creepy music exec talking about the ALGORITHM (or "algo-riddim") as if that's a good thing). And I wish there was more variety in the rave music (e.g. I prefer the flute-led "Drug Dealin Pagans" to the rote '90s-dance-pop of "Love Making").

But I keep coming back to the stated purpose, a tale of the oppressed taking on the oppressor. Under that framework, Fine Art is an unmitigated success. I don't know what they are saying sometimes, but I have been convinced anyway, so parful is the message. I believe in Kneecap.

GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5