Death Grips has a cult following and a legacy for intense performances that seldom leave your psyche intact. The group, which prefers to be viewed as an abstract art piece, embodies the nature of chaotic neutrality, with socially challenging lyricism and a matching cynicism that appeal to the technofascism and deep-seated paranoia of the contemporary age.
The show had sold out days before, and there was barely room to stand. The crowd was an assembled outcast of skaters, punks, faux goths, shirtless white guys, and other eccentrics, who all collectively chanted “fuck Bruno Mars” before the set, an inside reference for diehard fans. There was a pure eruption when the band took the stage, a tumult that consumed the audience and brought on a sea of heavy moshing and crowd surfing that reached terrifying levels of intensity. Security was stacked up particularly high that night in preparation for… the mob.
The production was as bare as they come, with the drums and amps pushed far upstage to bring the performers into close contact with the the stans. Two-thirds of the act were shirtless, acting as master puppeteers as the sweat dripped off their flailing bodies.
- “Lost Boys”
- “I’ve Seen Footage”
- “Black Paint”
- “Hustle Bones”
- “Death Grips Is Online”
- “Giving Bad People Good Ideas”
- “System Blower”
- “Get Got”
- “Steroids Track A”
- “Steroids Track C”
- “Come Up and Get Me”
- “I Break Mirrors With My Face in the United States”
- “Bubbles Buried in This Jungle”
- “No Love”
- “You Might Think He Loves You for Your Money but I Know What He Really Loves You for It’s Your Brand New Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat”
- “Takyon (Death Yon)”
- “Anne Bonny”
- “The Fever (Aye Aye)”
The pure insanity of the night was anything but typical. The obscene combination of hardcore blast beats, sampling, and overall dynamic intensity showcased in the group had the entire room jumping off the walls in a fit of insanity, marking the group as one that is uniquely capable of igniting public discord in the name of art. The tribal rhythms and avante-garde hip-hop delivery created actual dark magic that enveloped the crowd and ushered in instances of demonic possession, with even frontman MC Ride falling to the ground to shake obscenely, as if in the depths of an uncontrollable bodily seizure.
Death Grips lived up to the hype, cementing their legacy as an anti-establishment art collective that can incite an authentic reaction from their audience.
The Score: ♥♥♥♥♥
5 out of 5 hearts for making me feel alive again.