Built on a strong tradition of "pro gear, pro attitude," Nashville, where entertainers pride themselves on a strong work ethic and smart business decisions, has little in common with Sacramento, Calif., art-punk rappers Death Grips. In four years as a band, the trio has released five studio albums and built one of the most notorious hip-hop careers in recent memory through a series of unprecedented publicity stunts, manufactured controversy, trolling their fan base and generally knocking the wind out of their career at every turn with spectacular success.
Clean-cut, business-minded and commercially affable, Nashville has long suppressed the kind of weirdness that yields groups like Death Grips, though some could argue they might benefit from some Music City Manners. To use the parlance of our times, the men of Death Grips are the biggest trolls whose most common target is their own fans. Their music is a caustic and difficult mess of abrasive, nihilistic art for art's sake. Many of their records were released for free. Their music videos are usually made for pocket change and sometimes released by the dozen. Basically, they're against every careerist commercial mindset Music Row stands for ... and they'll likely play for a packed house when they come to Marathon Music Works on Friday night.
Right out of the gate, Death Grips scored the coveted and increasingly elusive major label deal, and promptly shot it in the face. When Epic Records didn't approve their sophomore release, No Love Deep Web, the band bit the hand and released it themselves via various file-sharing services along with private emails from Epic about the ordeal. The label dropped the insubordinate band a few days later. In 2013, they intentionally failed to show up for a series of shows, including Lollapalooza. Fans instead got a suicide note projected onto an empty stage full of gear, which fans proceeded to destroy in response. Last year, the group announced they were disbanding for good, yet they've since continued performing and releasing records.
Death Grips' sound isn't just anti-Nashville in its aesthetic, it's anti-everything. Frontman Stefan "MC Ride" Burnett's approach to hip-hop looks and sounds like a homeless guy screaming "fire" in a movie theater — only there is no fire and the doors are locked. Drummer and keyboardist Zach Hill and Andy Morin, respectively, jam together primal, distorted beats, tuneless noise amid a transgressive eclectic jumble of digitally mangled samples that makes for an aggressively incoherent punk performance piece. It's a stream-of-consciousness confrontation assembled from found objects out the pop-culture dustbin that keeps its nose pressed against the fourth wall.
The band has shown up and performed at many a major festival nationwide, including Bonnaroo in 2013 and a high-profile slot at the recent FYF Fest in L.A. They've collaborated with Björk and actor heartthrob Robert Pattinson. Comedian Fred Armisen, filmmaker Edgar Wright, guitarist Tom Morello and rapper Tyler, the Creator are all outspoken fans. Despite their kamikaze ethics, self-destructive antics and ubiquitous penchant for confrontation, Death Grips thrive in the indie-rock world, all while giving away most of their music, antagonizing their audience and tossing their major label contract out the window.
None of that behavior flies well in Music City.
Nashville entertainers don't just try to make sure people are going to enjoy the music they make, they make damn sure the audience likes them as well. Music City's straight-laced, crowd-pleasing balladeers may get drunk and misbehave now and then, but they always show up to the gig. Mind you, they didn't call George Jones "No Show" for nothing, but fans identified with his flawed character and sympathized with his struggle against himself. Hell, even as antagonistic as Kanye West can be, his antics have always been rooted in his need for approval. Death Grips don't necessarily admit to any flaws, and they don't seem to be concerned with anyone's approval. Sure, Death Grips, it works for now, but what about your long game, guys?
Of course, if Death Grips weren't such a popular phenomenon they would likely be playing a spot like Betty's — the West Side dive that holds, like, 50 people and functions as the stopgap mecca of Nashville's experimental underbelly. Nashville's freak flag doesn't just fly between the margins, it lives under a rock people only turn over when they want to see something ugly. Nashville-style records are promoted on billboards and priced to move, their artistic merit proven by SoundScan reports. Frankly, leaving the envelope-pushing, outer-box thinking and art for art's sake to other cities has made Nashville oppressively predictable. A visit from Death Grips is a welcome breath of fresh weirdness. Nashville could always use a dash of chaos, and maybe Death Grips will be a little more Nashville and actually show up to the gig Friday night.
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