Death Grips - NO LOVE DEEP WEB

Dropping an album with genitalia themed artwork completely out of the blue, in seeming defiance of the powers that be at their label would be quite the statement from most bands other than Death Grips. But with two albums of bludgeoning noise and psycho trauma-tinged lyrics under their belts, it's fair to say the shock value of Death Grips had perhaps run it's course when NO LOVE DEEP WEB (All caps, of course) surfaced. That may have been on the consensus on the face of it anyway, but in fact this album provides more dark and twisted turns than either of their previous releases. 

The focus here is less on the impact of sound and unadulterated noise, but instead shifts towards the group's paranoid talismanic frontman character MC Ride aka Stephen Burnett. On both Death Grips' previous efforts: Exmilitary and The Money Store; MC Ride screamed and barked obscene boasts that put every cliché from modern hip hop in a blender, and then blasted the bloody remains at people's eardrums over mesmerising drum patterns (courtesy of Zach Hill) and some of the boldest and loudest synth and sample based production possibly ever. In contrast on NLDW, much of that production has been stripped back with minimalism being embraced to allow a more personal and often terrifying platform for MC Ride to vent and conspire against anyone who dares cross him.

His vitriol is apparent from the off on 'Come Up And Get Me', a lurching track centred around ideas of suicide in isolation as Ride spits "Fuck the world fuck this body" in defiance of living and the human condition while experiences "epiphanic amnesia" in "Jimmy Page's Castle." (Interpret that how you will). The track 'No Love' meanwhile, is possibly the most affecting and unrelenting song on the record, as MC Ride this time details the impossibility of controlling his psychotic impulses. He jests about killing a man while checking his phone, after asserting beyond doubt that he is not to be messed with in the most blood-curdling way " You're fit to learn the proper meaning of a beat down, madness chaos in the brain. Let my blood flow, make my blood flow through you mane."

The forays through death (Artificial Death In The West), murder (Whammy) and running from the police on drugs (Stockton) are totally enrapturing in a sick yet compelling way, just as on Money Store tracks like 'Lost Boys' and 'I've Seen Footage'. However, a criticism that is fair to level at this album is the lack of hooks to subdue the sheer nastiness of the lyrics. There were certainly moments on The Money Store where you forget you're even listening to a song about murdering someone or overdosing on drugs because the choruses were so damn catchy, usually with really memorable perhaps even danceable beats behind it. On NLDW though, you don't forget the song's subject matter and for the more weak stomached, listening to these songs more than once could be rather unsettling and bizarre without any real melody to soften the blow except on the odd vaguely catchy tracks like 'Lil Boy', 'No Love' and 'Stockton' (Ride's almost comical delivery of the lines "I'm bouncing, whoop whoop" are not easy to get out of your head).

Right off the bat, NLDW attaches and demands the attention of the listener like a virus. It's lyrically perverse right the way through, but is delivered from the point of view of the character MC Ride, an essential thing to remember that this is largely if not completely an album telling a mainly fictional story. The album replicated what Death Grips have always done so well, in that they appeal to the deep dark sub-conscious of humans and make them want to listen and delve further into the taboo and unknown. For this reason, NLDW is their most intense album yet, plunging the depths of human extremity and promoting an image of dread and fear not just of others, but of the human condition and that loathing or regret people feel in themselves. It's not always a pleasant listen, but it's certainly a heart-stopping and eye-opening one.

8.7

Toby McCarron

Death Grips - The Money Store

Death Grips first release came swaddled in samples. Entire songs were based around them and they formed the basis for some of the best moments on that abrasive, thrilling album. Though their use often lead to moments of terrific invention it also starved the band themselves of a real identity. The Money Store is decidedly the antithesis of this.

Though seemingly less outwardly aggressive than its predecessor, further listening reveals this simply to be the product of less emphasis being placed on loud-quiet-meltdown dynamics and more being placed on layers upon layers of sound. Here the samples are less obvious and recognisable, mainly stemming from field recordings made by the band members and as such, the whole thing has a more natural tone to it. By no means is it less dense or intricate, Zach Hill’s drumming is stepped to a whole new level here, eschewing the subtlety he applied to Exmilitary in favour of a return to his usual batshit energy (the percussion of the opening six tracks flows together perfectly, seemingly detached from the music around it).

But there lies The Money Store’s secret weapon: it has a definite sound. Each track carries common threads and relatable elements; the drums will sound like the arrival of the apocalypse but will be placed deep in the mix, the prominent instruments will sound totally blown out and crappy, the synths and riffs will sound crystal and Stefan Burnett’s vocals will refuse to relinquish their grip on everything around them. The vocals here deserve mentioning for their sheer energy alone. Never before has a vocalist sounded so totally committed and involved, let alone on a hip-hop album. Prime examples of this golden formula are 'The Fever (Aye Aye)' and 'Hustle Bones', both of which could work in both a club and a ritual sacrifice.

Tellingly, they close with 'Hacker', easily their most ambitious and accomplished track to date. The disco groove, stuttering synths and distant electronic drum fills all call to mind vintage LCD Soundsystem but fed through a faulty loudspeaker. The schizo structure is, oddly enough, the most straightforward on the whole album and the track’s gradual build proves that Death Grips really are capable of restraint.

A massive step forward, a mission statement or a giant fuck-you, however you choose to read The Money Store, one fact is unavoidable: as long as this lot are around, no one’s safe.

9.6

Ned Powley

Death Grips - Get Got

I love auto-tune, it gets a hard rap and it’s still perceived by many as a novelty or a fad but honestly, has any musical technique gained as much attention in the last ten years? Everyone from James Blake to T-Pain is in its thrall. While not going the whole hog a la Messrs Blake or Pain, Death Grips take a loop of pitch-corrected vocals, beef it up with the skittery arpeggios and use it as a backdrop for what is their most relaxed offering yet.  I’ve said before that Death Grips are at their best when they’re right up in your face, hitting the listener where it hurts and that intensity doesn’t waver just because the volume’s down. Here it’s almost intimate, with MC Ride adopting the laconic flow he used on Exmilitary highlight Culture Shock to wonderfully unsettling effect. So have Death Grips jumped the shark? What with their signing to Sony offshoot Epic, it’s tempting to ponder whether Death Grips have or not, but considering that everything they’ve realised in their career thus far has straddled numerous genres and styles you must also consider whether there is a shark to jump in the first place.

Ned Powley

Death Grips - Blackjack

The thing with Death Grips Exmilitary album was that it suffered from a lack of cohesion. Lots of experimental music makes the mistake of failing to reign in its excesses and allowing the music to build up into something that’s unpalatable and uninteresting. It wasn’t that it wasn’t fun or inventive, quite to the contrary, it was the most original record released last year. The issue was that several dozen different ideas all jostling for top spot made the whole affair a touch unfocused. Blackjack is a much more streamlined beast. MC Ride’s doom-mongering flow is processed to within an inch of its life, reversed and sped up at will, to stomach-churning effect. Clearly they’ve decided that it’s all well and good going straight for the jugular, but if you want to see real suffering, you fuck with their heads as well.

Ned Powley