John Bemis
Blogs Editor
@bemiscourant
What reason did anyone have to believe that Death Grips were truly gone? The ever-perplexing and enigmatic group announced their dissolution last summer, but with little reason for anyone to believe they were truly gone. After all, their career has been built off of such shenanigans; not showing up to scheduled gigs, surprise-releasing albums, and leaking material well before it’s release date are all a part of their repertoire of recalcitrance. Who, if not Death Grips, would completely fake a break-up? However banal, their actions were almost always backed up by their sizeable portfolio of near-perfect albums.
Unfortunately though, their recent discography featured several stale and haphazard releases of premature musical ideas, and their antics began to wear thin. Government Plates, the Powers That b pt. 1, and Fashion Week were failed stylistic departures, abandoning the terrifying human intimacy of their first several records for jittery subterranean electronica and sample collages that paled in qualitative comparison. However, the second half of the Powers That B uses those otherwise disregardable records as stepping stones towards their perfected idea. Built upon a new viscera, aesthetic, and compositional richness, Jenny Death proves to be Death Grip’s evolutionary paragon.
The inkblot electronics that permeated Government Plates and Fashion Week reappear in their perfected state throughout the record. Opening track ‘I Break Mirrors With My Face in the United States’ grows from an Aphex Twin-esque rave beat with overblown synths. Zach Hill’s ever-furious drumming maintains a refreshing presence, sounding as acoustic as they did on their first EP. If their first mixtape Exmilitary was meant to be the caveman, Jenny Death is the cyborg, a seamless meld between abstracted cyber-punk and a punch in the jaw. On Jenny, adrenaline pumps through computer wire rather than veins, but the resulting delivery is no less invigorating.
Distorted guitars weave their way into the album’s undeniably fresh instrumental makeup. Turned Off opens with an honest-to-god psychedelic guitar drone, melting instantly into the gritty, noisy Hip-Hop Death Grips has stylistically refined. Without becoming a rap-rock pastiche, guitar adds to the album’s unrelenting heaviness the same way it did on Exmilitary’s Link Wray sampling. Crushing splatter-paint riffs beautifully compliment throbbing electronics, removing any sense of juxtaposition between the two. MC Ride may have cited Jimi Hendrix as an influence, but the guitars on Jenny Death are in no way a resulting forced appearance.
MC Ride has been effectively absent from the recent Death Grips catalog, and the refreshing delivery that he brings to Jenny Death is at a new level of both viscera and intimacy. His usually frantic bark is continually counteracted by a quiet, chilling monotone. ‘Inanimate Sensation’ and ‘On GP‘ feature Ride’s gripping roar, while ‘Turned Off’ shows his unnerving whisper. Touching these dynamics is Ride further painting his ever enigmatic and capricious portrait.
Rather than another macabre sketching, the album lyrically explores suicide, sexuality, objectification, and desire. “I’m smoking cigarettes in the shower//when they get wet I just light another” Ride spits on ‘Turned Off’, a unique display of confessional apathy. Where lyrics are usually the most obscuring aspect of any Death Grips record, Ride is stripping back the degrees of separation between himself and that who he wishes to portray. It’s still impossible to get a glimpse of the personalities behind these bars, but the notion of an emotionally palpable Death Grips makes for their most stirring record since The Money Store.
It would make sense, with the extreme calibre of Jenny Death, that albums like Government Plates were appropriately misunderstood. In a complete artistic 180, Death Grips decided to mold their own twisted sonic realm rather than remain a reaction to the actual world. This is a record that will remind you why you ever loved Death Grips in the first place. While giving no clear hint to Death Grip’s future, the album establishes a new, if vague mantra. The final track, ‘Death Grips 2.0’, is a fitful burst of swirling 808 timbres and synthesizers, leaning far left to the rest of the record’s interpolated sound. It’s a phenomenally puzzling answer to where the group is headed, a confusing response to a moot question.
However difficult, embracing the affronted tension and chaotic confusion in Jenny Death is what makes it their most rewarding record. Death Grip’s musical rebellion has always been built on the idea of surpassing extremes, but on Jenny Death there are no pre-conceived standards being surpassed. Rather, Death Grips are in their prime mode of existence, finally at a point of pure creative altruism. Death Grips have finally succeeded at pushing the listener to the edge of their own universe, exerting their purely original, peerless, undefinable intent.
Rating: 10/10
Listen to the first track on Jenny Death:
