Since they emerged in 2010 with a refusal to conform to industry norms and expectations, absence has long served as a deliberate strategy for Death Grips. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise when rumours begin circulating that the group might be disbanding for good, then, but it remains a notion that has sent ripples through the music world. Stemming from a purported leaked conversation involving keyboardist Andy Morin, the whispers suggest that vocalist MC Ride has lost interest in continuing the project. Even though the band’s history is replete with sudden withdrawals, unannounced returns, and enigmatic communications that have repeatedly defied conventional explanations, there’s a feeling this could be more concrete.
From their inception, Death Grips have employed a method of ‘absence as presence’ that has come to define both their artistic identity and their relationship with audiences. The trio – MC Ride, Zach Hill, and Andy Morin – quickly distinguished themselves from their contemporaries by embracing a mode of self-presentation that was as much about what was not said as it was about the music itself. Early on, the band demonstrated a willingness to play by their own rules: shortly after signing with Epic Records in 2012, they cancelled a highly anticipated international tour to complete the recording of their follow-up to a successful debut, and it set a tone for future unpredictability. The subsequent leak of their album ‘No Love Deep Web’ — accompanied by an, erm, controversial cover image — further solidified their reputation as mavericks unbound by the usual rules. At a point where artists could still shock, they certainly completed the assignment.
One incident during the summer of 2013 remains a particularly striking example of Death Grips’ predisposition for vanishing just when it’s least expected of them. Set to perform at a Lollapalooza after-party, the band instead defined the performance by their very absence. Fans arrived to find an unmanned drum kit, pre-recorded music blaring from the speakers, and a large projection that featured a handwritten note. The setup, which many later understood to be an intentional art performance, quickly escalated into chaos when frustrated concertgoers took matters into their own hands. Equipment was damaged as it all kicked off. While some saw it as a cheap, bratty stunt looking for attention, others saw it as a statement on conventional performance norms – a rejection that would become a recurring motif.
This approach to live shows became legendary for their unpredictability. Some nights delivered the kind of raw energy that makes health and safety officers nervous. Others ended in near-riots or didn’t happen at all. It’s hard to think of another band whose no-shows generated as much discussion as their performances. Each absence became as much a part of their legend as their actual appearances.
After that, the band’s behaviour became even more enigmatic. By 2014, Death Grips had announced their dissolution on socials via a handwritten note. The message was brief and blunt: Death Grips was over. Scheduled live dates were cancelled without further explanation, and the group’s statement emphasised that their work had always been as much about conceptual art as it was about music. Despite the apparent finality of the announcement, the album they had been working on, ‘The Powers That B’, was eventually released in two parts. The first part, ‘Niggas on the Moon’, arrived as a surprise, while the second part, ‘Jenny Death’, followed soon after, with the album as a whole being billed as the band’s final statement.
By early 2015, it became clear that the breakup was less definitive than it had seemed. Before ‘Jenny Death’ was widely available, the band released a free instrumental album titled ‘Fashion Week’. This unexpected move, complete with a playful acrostic embedded in the tracklist, revealed that the members of Death Grips were still very much engaged in an ongoing dialogue with their audience—even if that dialogue was delivered through silence and mystery more often than through conventional promotion. A brief post on social media hinted at the possibility of further projects. Within months, the group had announced plans for a new world tour, dismantling the notion of a proper final farewell.
Critics have long noted that the group’s music is characterised by its relentless energy and abrasive soundscapes. The raw power of their debut release, ‘Exmilitary’, set the stage for a body of work that would continually push the boundaries of what experimental hip-hop could be. ‘The Money Store’ further pushed this sound with its aggressive production and confrontational lyrics, while ‘No Love Deep Web’ struck a chord with those who appreciated its uncompromising, unapologetic aesthetic. Subsequent albums ‘Government Plates’, ‘Bottomless Pit’, and ‘Year of the Snitch’ have only deepened that reputation for defiance.
Their musical progression reads like a deliberate dismantling of genre conventions. Each release pushed further into uncharted territory, treating genre boundaries as mere suggestions. The harsh electronic beats and aggressive vocal delivery of their early work evolved into something more nuanced but no less challenging, incorporating elements of industrial noise and dissonant textures that became central to their sound. Throughout, Death Grips maintained a balance between chaos and precision, allowing them to evolve continuously without abandoning the core elements that first attracted their following.
Death Grips never played by the rules of artist-fan engagement. Where others flood social media with constant updates, they chose cryptic silence – a strategy that’s either brilliant marketing or genuine disinterest in the traditional music industry playbook (possibly both). Their sporadic communications sparked Reddit threads longer than most bands’ entire press campaigns, with fans picking apart every detail like digital archaeologists unearthing ancient ruins. Their refusal to adhere to established promo methods has forced a re-evaluation of what it means to be present in the digital age – something beyond the band itself. Their deliberate silences and sporadic bursts of activity have helped the absence of information become a weird form of communication.
The band’s relationship with their audience redefines fan engagement. Their online community doesn’t just follow the band – they archive, analyse, and theorise about every move (or lack thereof). Digital archivists have created a dynamic where fans become custodians of the band’s mythology, filling the silences with meaning and turning speculation into part of the art. Even during their longest disappearances, the conversation never stops – an approach that’s resonated with exhausted musicians eager to find a bit of mystique in the age of oversharing.
Their influence cuts deep. They’ve become patron saints of genre disruption, their production techniques – all harsh edges and maximum chaos – creating a new blueprint for artists looking to break free from the often sanitised sound of contemporary music. Artists from bedroom producers to established names cite Death Grips as inspiration, not just for their sound but for their approach. They’ve proved that authenticity can come from unpredictability rather than floor-to-ceiling commercial viability.
The latest chapter – Andy Morin’s hint at a 2025 endpoint due to MC Ride’s apparent disinterest – feels typically Death Grips. Even their potential ending arrives wrapped in ambiguity. But for a group whose career reads like a masterclass in keeping audiences guessing, perhaps that’s the only way it could finish. Unless, of course, this is just another false ending in a career built on wrong-footing expectations.
Death Grips leave behind not just a catalogue of boundary-pushing music but a template for artistic autonomy in the digital age. Whether this rumoured endpoint proves to be genuine or just another chapter in their unpredictable narrative, their influence on experimental music and the very nature of artist-audience relationships will persist long after their final note fades out.
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