Holy hell. I’ve seen some insane shows in my life, but this one shot straight to the top of the “I may be in danger” list.
Death Grips, a band notorious for its rapid rise to fame and its guerrilla tactics in music release and promotion, brought their cacophony of sound to London’s O2 Forum Kentish Town. The energy in the room was akin to Thor swinging Mjölnir at a drum set during an electrical storm. The fact that London is in a heatwave didn’t help matters as I literally got smacked in the face by a wall of heat and humidity that would make a Turkish bathhouse feel like the Arctic tundra in comparison. With an atmosphere that promised to be as subtle as a sledgehammer to a piñata, the crowd braced themselves for a night of sonic annihilation and unrestrained mayhem.
This Sacramento-based experimental hip-hop group has been a juggernaut in the underground music scene since the early 2010s. Their ascent was marked by a potent combination of an enigmatic online presence, surprise album releases, and the occasional flouting of industry norms, including a public feud with their former label, Epic Records. When the band released No Love Deep Web under Epic, they famously leaked the album online and used an explicit image as the cover, which led to a very public and messy parting with the label.
Their setlist was a testament to the raw energy that made them famous. The show started with an uncompromising fervor as the opening numbers “System Blower” and “I’ve Seen Footage” had the crowd in a frenzy from the get-go. MC Ride’s commanding presence was backed by Zach Hill’s feverish drumming and Andy Morin’s haunting synth sounds, making for an explosive opening.
“The Money Store” reigned supreme during the show with eight tracks from the album thundering through the speakers. This is the album that boldly claimed a coveted spot on Pitchfork’s “Albums of the Decade” list—a feat akin to musical knighthood in indie circles. As Death Grips tore through the tracks, the crowd reciprocated with electric fervor that was almost spiritual.
Every bone-crushing beat reverberated through the crowd, setting off a primal chain reaction. The band, the fans, and the album collided in a powerful embrace, unleashing a sonic onslaught that ignited wild mosh pits. Standing at the back, I watched as fans emerged energized and a bit disheveled, nodding to each other in approval, loving every moment of it.
The lighting setup was strikingly minimalistic, drenched in an ominous blood-red hue throughout the show. This, combined with zero front lighting, created a dark, almost sinister atmosphere that perfectly suited Death Grips’ abrasive sound. Yeah, they were perfectly on-brand. A nightmare for photographers, but fun for the types who love to experiment and lean into the moment.
They closed the set with “Runway H” and “Hacker.” The latter, one of their most acclaimed tracks, served as the crescendo, with its catchy hooks and relentless beat. The crowd chanted along, drawing a night of chaos and sonic rebellion to a close.
Death Grips’ show was an affirmation of their cult status and their prowess as live performers. Though they’ve often polarized critics and listeners alike, this night was indisputably a triumph for those who revel in the darker, more aggressive frontiers of music. And more so for those who do things differently and don’t give a fuck.
