Death Grips

Death Grips (May 2, 2012)

A lot of music strives to transgress. Plenty of bands want to be menacing, a little spooky. But few artists successfully frighten anyone. Usually the failed attempt becomes a joke. Death Grips are actually kind of scary. This is glitchy hip-hop, fused with sprays of noise, a dusting of witch house, ingrown American grime, tweaker crunk, whatever. This is primal sonic violence, or maybe it's futuristic. Hard to say. Either way, the grating, chopped-up, blown-out, chest-thumping, siren-emulating, circuitry-frying loops and patterns almost induce heart palpitations, or stomach sickness. It's like Throbbing Gristle playing at a strip club, cranked to the beat of an electric-chair power surge. The staccato shouts of the vocals/raps would be almost completely incoherent without a lyric sheet. "Punk Weight" has some 6/8 groove that gets dismantled and then switched up; the whole thing could be sound waves extruded through a homemade speaker of tin cans and stretched plastic. Force fed and shredded. It feels like it might be bad for you — physically, spiritually, emotionally, socially — but that's also part of its appeal.

Death Grips
The Money Store


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