7. Government Plates (2013)

The concise Government Plates feels like a night out where anything can happen—and probably shouldn’t. Right from the start, “You Might Think He Loves You for Your Money…” brings in a pounding bassline that moves like a restless heartbeat. Each track that follows feels like walking through an industrial wasteland with unpredictable jolts of shrill synths and piercing sound effects. It’s erratic, with MC Ride’s presence threading through like an unpredictable force—at times, his voice vanishes completely, leaving only the snarling beats, before suddenly returning in fierce bursts.

With every transition, there’s an odd sense of disjointed momentum, as if each track is barely keeping itself together, held by sharp electronic jabs and twisted basslines. Tracks like “Big House” echo with pulsing rhythms that give a sense of rhythm in the chaos, though “Birds” returns to an offbeat, unsettling feel with warped vocal loops that sound more like anxious muttering than anything meant to be understood. It’s a strange, surreal landscape that doesn’t settle into easy patterns or structure, almost as if each track is determined to break free from whatever holds it together.

The album wraps up with “Whatever I Want (F Who’s Watching),” an expansive finale that doesn’t offer much closure. The song moves through eerie waves of static, screeches, and echoing drums that pile up and pull back, giving a closing note that doesn’t resolve as much as it releases a final shock. Government Plates is fast, jarring, and challenging—its chaos isn’t about catharsis or climax, but about sustaining the tension. It might not be Death Grips’ best work, but it’s probably one of the most intense trips they offer. | 7/10

6. Year Of The Snitch (2018)

On Year of the Snitch, Death Grips pulls together sounds that seem to clash and collide, leaving you in a dizzying mess of beats and jagged melodies. The opening track, “Death Grips Is Online,” immediately throws you into the chaos, blending a kind of industrial, dance-heavy beat that thrums with that trademark Death Grips aggression.

Throughout the album, the energy pulses with a gritty intensity. Tracks like “Black Paint” bring in snarling guitar riffs that cut through the noise like jagged glass, reminding you that this isn’t just an electronic exploration; there’s a weight and grit to it. Meanwhile, “Hahaha” gives you an eerie sense of déjà vu, as it spins up samples of past Death Grips songs in a way that feels like fragments of memories stitched together.

“Shitshow” and “The Horn Section” barely give you time to breathe, throwing frantic rhythms and distorted layers that sound like they’re glitching and warping mid-play. Then there’s “Flies,” where MC Ride’s delivery is unsettling, almost gleeful in describing his decay, like a surreal descent into something grotesque yet oddly compelling.

One of the most bizarre and playful moments comes with “Little Richard.” In it, familiar names like Maria Sharapova and Little Richard echo through the track, giving the lyrics a warped sense of humor that feels strange yet oddly fitting. “Dilemma” adds to the surreal mood, dropping seemingly random words in a way that feels unsettling yet hypnotic.

The final track, “Disappointed,” feels like an unraveling. Ride’s repeated shouts match the growing intensity of the drums and beats as they ramp up toward something almost manic. By the end, you’re left drained but oddly exhilarated, as if you’ve emerged from a kind of sonic onslaught that only Death Grips could deliver. With Year of the Snitch, Death Grips changed up their sound to build a twisted world that’s brash, relentless, and never afraid to plunge into strange, uncomfortable spaces. | 7/10

5. No Love Deep Web (2012)

No Love Deep Web arrived under a cloud of controversy, as Death Grips clashed with their label, Epic Records, over its release. Frustrated with delays and eager to get the album out, the band leaked it themselves, complete with a controversial album cover, leading to their swift departure from the label. This rebellious move fit the album’s raw, confrontational nature, amplifying its chaotic and unfiltered energy.

The album throws you into an unfiltered, raw storm, a chaotic and stripped-down burst of the group’s energy. It opens with “Come Up and Get Me,” a track that feels like the sonic equivalent of staring out from a dim room with no escape, driven by a relentless beat and a pulsing unease. The whole album gives off that feeling, hitting you with heavy, minimal beats and a bass that feels like it’s burrowing into your bones.

The music here is often blunt, almost taunting, with MC Ride’s voice feeling like both a dare and a warning. Tracks like “Lil Boy” and “Hunger Games” are built on sparse beats that let his voice cut through sharply, adding a kind of urgency that feels uncomfortably close. There’s a strange beauty in how stark these songs are—there’s little polish, as if every layer has been stripped away until you’re left with something primal.

On “Pop” and “Whammy,” there’s an unsettling energy as the music builds with an industrial grind that feels both mechanical and deeply human. The sounds are harsh and sharp-edged, with moments where electronics warp and bend as if they’re about to split. And then there’s “Artificial Death in the West,” a slower, eerie track that closes the album in a haze, leaving an aftertaste of unease long after it fades.

No Love Deep Web keeps you on edge, feeding a sense of paranoia and anxiety from start to finish. It’s raw, aggressive, and often unforgiving, drawing you into a dark, gritty space where there’s no room for comfort. | 7.5/10

4. The Powers That B (2015)

The Powers That B from Death Grips, a 2015 double album, feels like the musical equivalent of flipping between two intense states of mind—one inward and fractured, the other raging and explosive. The first half, N****s on the Moon, churns through chopped Björk samples like a possessed collage, with each glitch and stutter building a cage for MC Ride’s fragmented, paranoid lyrics. There’s a restrained chaos to it, a strange focus despite the wild shifts and sputtering rhythm patterns courtesy of Zach Hill’s V-drums, which skitter and collapse across the beats.

Tracks like “Up My Sleeves” and “Black Quarterback” don’t follow any traditional structure, instead hitting like jolts, morphing without warning. It’s an unsettling experience—claustrophobic, even. These songs almost refuse a typical sense of “groove” or “hook.” Everything feels disjointed, made from pieces that don’t quite fit but are jammed together with force. The use of Björk’s vocals as chopped samples brings an oddly organic feel to the otherwise electronic base, pulling listeners back into the mayhem.

Then, flipping to Jenny Death, the second half, is like stepping into a different landscape entirely. Where N****s on the Moon spins inward, Jenny Death explodes outwards, going ferociously loud and raw with heavier guitars, pounding drums, and a primal energy that feels unstoppable. MC Ride’s lyrics here are feral and direct, blunt-force in their honesty. Songs like “I Break Mirrors With My Face in the United States” and “Inanimate Sensation” go straight for the jugular, blending hard-edged guitars with electronic fury. There’s a sense of release here, a sort of apocalyptic glee in sound that makes you feel like everything might shatter any second.

But it’s the final stretch, especially “On GP,” that grounds the album in something personal and raw, with lyrics that confront mortality in chilling, unguarded terms. The song feels almost like a confessional, ending the album on a quiet yet powerful note, with haunting guitar lines cutting through the intensity.

The Powers That B is an album that demands to be felt, not followed or analyzed in typical terms. It swings from suffocating chaos to full-throttle aggression, pushing listeners through wildly different spaces in the same breath. A double album that, while not perfect, hits like a storm, sometimes destructive, sometimes eerily still, but constantly alive. | 7.5/10

3. Exmilitary (2011)

Exmilitary is a tape that demands attention, grabs by the throat, and holds on for dear life. Right from the opening track, “Beware,” Death Grips throws the listener into a sonic descent that’s as raw and unfiltered as an unhinged manifesto scribbled on a prison wall. MC Ride’s voice hits you like a sledgehammer: guttural, unpolished, as if he’s shouting from the other side of some forbidden dimension. The track samples Charles Manson’s eerie monologue, weaving a nightmarish tone that sticks around through every minute that follows.

Each track bleeds into the next with chaotic energy, driven by Zach Hill’s frantic, almost militaristic drumming. It doesn’t feel like he’s keeping time so much as stirring up a frenzy, while samples of punk riffs and distorted basslines crash in from every direction. “Guillotine” isn’t just intense; it’s relentless, with Ride barking lines over harsh electronic loops that twist and tighten like an impending migraine. It’s the sonic equivalent of a strobe light flashing at breakneck speed, and it’s not asking if you’re comfortable.

The mood Death Grips creates here is claustrophobic, like the album wants to pull you into a tight, smoke-filled room, walls closing in, ceiling pressing down. It’s all aggression, nihilism, and sheer force—a merciless ride that pulls from Hip Hop, punk, and industrial noise but isn’t beholden to any of them. “Klink” uses the raw punch of a Black Flag riff, but it’s distorted and mangled, transformed into a new, unrecognizable beast that pulses with manic energy. Ride’s words don’t aim to comfort; they’re a barrage of violent imagery and abrasive truths. It’s as if he’s throwing everything out, every frustration, every twisted thought, daring you to absorb it.

The whole mixtape feels like an attack on the senses. Songs like “Spread Eagle Cross the Block” don’t just get loud; they rumble, grumble, and rupture. It’s a harsh experience, but that’s the point. Every track is intentionally unsettling, refusing to give any sense of resolution. You leave feeling a little less secure, a little more aware of the darkness lurking beneath the surface, and the primal urge to push against it.

Exmilitary doesn’t care about comfort or accessibility. It’s abrasive, loud, and unapologetically hostile, almost like a sonic bulldozer leaving a trail of destruction. It’s not here to please, but it does more than enough to provoke. | 8/10

2. Bottomless Pit (2016)

Bottomless Pit doesn’t wait around to make its presence felt. From the moment “Giving Bad People Good Ideas” kicks in, the album hurls itself forward, fueled by raw, electronic chaos, as if it’s trying to catch you off-guard. The track opens with Clementine Creevy’s dissonant, almost haunting vocals, adding a strange, magnetic pull before MC Ride steps in, practically bulldozing over everything with his unfiltered intensity. The drums and guitars pound out a rhythm that feels like it’s spiraling, barely keeping it together, yet somehow all the parts lock into place by sheer force of energy.

There’s something unhinged in the way Bottomless Pit swings between abrasive electronic beats and catchy, pulsing hooks, taking you from distortion-drenched highs into stretches of eerie calm that never let you settle. “Hot Head” is a perfect example—it’s erratic, swarming with glitchy, shredded synths that blast out in bursts, like static coming to life. It hits fast and hard, but it’s not without method. Beneath the chaos is an ironclad structure that forces you to listen up, as if every sonic attack has its own purpose.

MC Ride’s vocals slice through the noise with relentless force. He’s all about pushing every word to its limit, barely pausing to let a phrase breathe. On “Spikes,” he rips through the lines with a mixture of frustration and defiance, keeping pace with Zach Hill’s jagged, twitchy beats. It’s a combination that feels both visceral and oddly rhythmic, as if every drum hit and shouted line is designed to keep you teetering at the edge.

This album also doesn’t overindulge. Most tracks barely hit the four-minute mark, packing as much impact as possible into short, concentrated blasts. That tight structure makes for some jolting transitions, like the cut from the searing aggression of “BB Poison” to the unsettling calm of “Eh.” On “Eh,” MC Ride sounds almost disinterested, spitting lines with a deadpan calm that feels unsettling against a hypnotic beat—a weird breather that’s as full of tension as the more chaotic tracks.

Death Grips’ knack for throwing in unpredictable elements is in full force here. Tracks like “Warping” bring in alien sounds that feel warped and unsteady, while “Three Bedrooms in a Good Neighborhood” works with staccato beats and eerie, echoing effects that amplify the discomfort. The album closes with the title track, where Ride’s repetition of “I’ll fuck you in half” rings out like a threat in a darkened room, an ending as intense and warped as the album itself.

Bottomless Pit is furious, relentless, and undeniably gripping, keeping you on edge as it swings between brutal noise and something almost hypnotic. There’s no single weak moment here, and every track brings its own bite, making it one of Death Grips’ most unfiltered and direct projects. | 8.5/10

1. The Money Store (2012)

Death Grips’ The Money Store hits like a fuse lit under an oil drum, pouring chaos and hardwired grit straight into your eardrums. There’s nothing soft here, no comfortable beat for you to settle into. This album rattles and scrapes from track to track with all the subtlety of a chainsaw. Each song feels like an industrial assault, but there’s an irresistible energy in that almost magnetic rawness. It doesn’t ask you to lean in; it yanks you by the collar and thrusts you head-first into its dizzying world.

From the jump, “Get Got” unleashes electronic clashes and jagged rhythms that grind into MC Ride’s primal shout—a kind of car crash of Hip Hop, punk, and a buzzsaw of electronic noise that feels both immediate and alien. Ride’s voice is its own weapon, not exactly rapping in the traditional sense but firing words like heavy artillery, blasting right through whatever you thought this genre could contain. Lyrically, he’s feral, shouting about paranoia and society’s underbelly with the kind of urgency that’s both scary and thrilling. Even when you can’t fully make out his words, the tone hits you just as hard as the beat itself.

The production, largely from drummer Zach Hill and Andy Morin, feels thick, compressed, and sometimes downright ugly—in the best way possible. It’s a tightly-wound mix of digital wreckage and distortion, drawing you into a sound that feels harsh and messy, but surprisingly tight. “The Fever (Aye Aye)” comes through like an electro-punk rallying cry, sharp and menacing, while “I’ve Seen Footage” tricks you with its almost danceable beat but undercuts it with layers of grime and distortion. Here, Death Grips seem to toy with what could pass as pop but shove it through a filter of frenetic anger and unrest. This isn’t music to groove to; it’s music to break something to.

The album’s structure is relentless, rarely letting up its sonic assault. Tracks like “Hustle Bones” and “Double Helix” spiral further into the chaos with warped loops and beats that pile up, never giving you much room to catch your breath. It’s disorienting but addictive, and by the time you reach “Hacker” to close it out, you’re left feeling like you’ve been sprinting through an underground fight club. But even in that roughness, there’s a strange allure—a dirty brilliance that doesn’t apologize or even try to meet you halfway.

The Money Store doesn’t play nice. It’s loud, abrasive, and everything but polite. In a musical landscape that often leans towards the refined, this album stands like a middle finger to any sense of traditional polish. It’s a reckless, jarring experience that drags you into its world without letting you go. The Money Store is a brilliant piece of music. | 9.5/10