Death Grips: Trancendental Drone Rap Rules

My rap music fandom extends to maybe three or four mid-2000s Bay Area singles (I still listen to "Tell Me When to Go" because I am lame) and almost nothing else. I am far from being an authority here. That said, I do know what I like, and that's pure heaviness. The distilled sonic essence of pure, weighted, and oppressive volume.

I first stumbled across Death Grips while trawling the depths of Grindcore Karaoke, J. Randall's (totally free!) carnival horror show of a grind/noise/punk/whatever label. Truthfully, I clicked on Death Grips's Exmilitary because I thought it was going to be some kind of politically-charged powernoise mindfuck. Lo and behold, I was greeted by the heaviest hip-hop jam I've ever laid ears upon.



"Beware" begins some real Trouble-a-Comin' guitar strains, overlaid by a rambling hobo speech from none other than Charles Manson. "The game is mine," he says. "I deal the cards." And then, BWOOOOOOOOM. The note begins, like a distant doom riff, cycling over and over, underpinning everything with that celestial echo that makes all heavy music feel transcendent and eternal.

The vocals of MC Ride doesn't rap with a traditional flow. Instead his voice burns with a ritualistic chant, conjuring images of fireside rites and summonings. Heavy music fans should feel right at home with the lyrics, too.  They read more like a funeral doom masterpiece than anything you'll hear in mainstream hip-hop.

"Dismiss this life, worship death
Cold blood night of serpent's breath
Exhaled like spells from the endlessness"

Jesus. You could easily make an quiz titled, Who Said It? Darkthrone or Death Grips" and have it be reasonably hard.

To be honest, I didn't really connect with the rest of the group's material, but I believe this song is special and worthy of anyone's time, especially if you're in need of something heavy but wholly fresh to your metal-tuned ears.