Beats and Bombs: The Story of Belfast Rap

Rat Out Records' event at The Sunflower
(Source: my own)

Belfast is famous for many things – ships, conflict, Van Morrison – but not quite hip-hop. Unlike the other Irish cities which have spawned the likes of Dublin duo Versatile or Limerick’s The Rubberbandits, the subculture hasn’t gained the same notoriety and recognition in the North. As a genre created by African Americans in 1970s New York, it may be fairly easy to see why the Irish brand of rap hasn’t exactly had the same level of success.

Despite this, Northern Ireland is by no means lacking in musical talent; the region has produced big names like The Undertones, Snow Patrol and Two Door Cinema Club. Even on a more grassroots level, the local indie rock and folk scenes in Belfast and Derry are booming. While it may seem that we prefer our music with a catchy chorus and three chords, Belfast’s underground rap scene is alive and kicking if you’re prepared to look for it. A simple Soundcloud or Bandcamp search will return – among a mountain of parodies – a number of local MCs freestyling and experimenting with different beats and samples to create a take on the genre which is utterly unique. Belfast hip-hop is rough around the edges, much like the city itself.

Rap has often been used as a tool to explore and rebel against the social, economic and political situations that marginalised people find themselves in and, given its turbulent history, artists and musicians of Belfast have plenty to be angry about. Arguably the city’s most famous hip-hop export, Jun Tzu (AKA Jonathan Hamilton), released his debut album The Troubles in 2014, a cutting narrative on the years of sectarian division which still haunts the city, characterised by “a blend of traditional Irish folk music, deeply personal poetry and hard-hitting hip hop.” As the son of a loyalist prisoner, Hamilton does not shy away from the explicit horrors of growing up in a city so plagued with violence and instability. He does so with trademark cynical humour, most notably on ‘Born in Belfast’ and self-reflective ode ‘Wee Johnny’. Likewise, Belfast rapper Sketch Nine’s 2011 EP The Expenses of Living Free deals with the dichotomy of life in the city, torn between love for the place where you grew up and the bitter bigotry so engrained in life there.

Other artists of Northern Ireland’s post-conflict generation wish to distance themselves from the province’s troubled past. Local rapper Jack Bashful wants his music to be detached from the norm and a form of escapism: “If I talk about how bad life is in here or how all the politicians are corrupt, I wouldn’t be doing that. That sort of thing does not appeal to me, it’s been done so many times before and I don’t think I would offer anything different.” He instead opts for more traditional hip-hop, but with a modern twist. Fellow performer Juma, an African-Irish artist, is less focused on the past and prefers to take inspiration from all walks of life. He is optimistic about an emerging international following, as he believes that combining both of his cultures allows his sound to be more versatile.

The main hurdle for many local listeners is hearing such a global and commercialised style delivered in a local accent, something many NI acts are all too aware of. The British grime genre has exploded in recent years, with artists sporting strong regional accents and incorporating local slang, yet many people find that the Belfast version doesn’t make for easy listening. “Due to the fact that I rap in my own Northern Irish accent, I do think that my sound is unique given that there is yet to be a breakout artist from here,” Bashful explains, “The response to it [my music] was almost overwhelming… having people tell me what I was doing was actually listenable was a fantastic compliment.” West Belfast duo KNEECAP have taken the local flavour a step further, creating hip-hop as Gaeilge. Exploding from underground to mainstream news, the pair’s colourful Irish language rap saw their track ‘C.E.A.R.T.A’ banned by RTÉ for its lyrical content, despite their desire to “break stereotypes”. 

Although the subculture was explored through the lens of cross-community relations in Chris Eva’s 2014 documentary Bombin’, Beats and B-Boys, Northern Irish hip-hop remains largely uncharted territory. “We are an ever-growing scene,” Juma claims, “Although there are some absolute titans who’ve been holding the torch for some time, Rome wasn’t built in a day and it [the scene] is still fairly adolescent in many respects.”

At Rat Out Records Irish Hip-Hop showcase on 16^th February, a small line-up of local acts packed out The Sunflower bar, Jack Bashful and Juma among them. Fuelled with fiery intensity and a fair few pints, the scene painted a promising picture for NI rap. Jack Bashful is hopeful: “The most important thing for me is simply just being able to listen to material for longer than thirty seconds. Every time I had come across a new aspiring rapper, I found myself cringing and turning it off before it was even half over. If I can get to the point where people can listen to my music the whole way through, it’s half the battle. That may not seem very ambitious, but with an accent like mine, it’s not easy!”

A shorter edited version is available in the print version of The Gown student newspaper at QUB.