Dear Death Grips,
I get it. I totally get it.
I get what you’re trying to do with No Love Deep Web. Teasing your album through an ARG on 4chan and making the album cover a penis? That’s some definitive avant-garde shit. I don’t know French, but I would venture to call it avant-avant-garde. You reverted from the near-friendly The Money Store and managed to play nice with fans of your rapping-esque first mixtape Exmilitary. Cranking out two albums in one year really paid off for everyone involved.
This begs the question: what do you do now? What mountain do you have left to ascend? Your tricks are a matter of public record. Zach Hill bangs out syncopated beats, MC Ride screams until I feel like I’m going to die in the apocalypse, and the third guy vomits synths all over the place. This is every one of your songs. You have created an aesthetic all your own, but you can only stray so far away before you spring back. It’s fun to hear Ride belt out “FUCK A NAZI” and “BASS RATTLE STARS FROM THE SKY,” but you begin to approach a level of monotony that I expect from a lesser band. I don’t want you to become the indie rock of insanity electro rap.
This isn’t to say that you can’t squeak out rubies of innovation through the unused Hella tracks. You took “Hunger Games” and made it into a terrifying set piece without involving Jennifer Lawrence. You took “World of Dogs”, which sounds like a Neil Young album title, and made it a fucking scary joint about social disarray and suicide. Seriously, I cannot listen to that song with the lights off. You know how to deploy MC Ride perfectly, his voice serving as an instrument and a quick-fire rapping tool with precise duality. MC Ride is also powerful because he gives Zach Hill the extreme volume that he needs to exist. Zach is like a noise vampire, and MC Ride is the wellspring of noise. The feedback loop is beautifully efficient.
But Death Grips. Can I call you Death? You need to break out of the box you made. It isn’t enough to make an incredible, solid album; you need to have not made it before. I don’t think it’s a great idea to ask you to go moreextreme, but hell, I want to see what you come up with. And please, don’t cancel your tour again. We can wait for another album. Give yourselves a creative break, come back fresh. Throw some more lyrics at me that call Harlan Ellison stories to mind. Reclaim the unique fever dream aesthetic that you created and that you threaten to drive into the ground. Put your dicks away.