death grips in manchester

Crammed. Burning hot. Energy. Happy.

My T-shirt so wet I could wring sweat from it an hour later. Briefs, trousers, socks, all gone the same way.

The hottest gig I've ever been in.

Even with a set 45/50 minutes long you started to feel maybe you couldn't keep jumping much longer.

That was also because it was the most packed gig I remember.

You couldn't pause or you'd be carried back and end up four or five people back from where you started and have to force your way forward again.

So you bounced, pushing forward, caught your breath and threw yourself back in.

When it kicked off I was centre, five or six people back. Close as I could get even in the break between support and Death Grips.

Support was Wet Nuns. I fucking hated them. If you like sweaty jock rock they'll probably do it for you.

To be fair they're excellent at what they do, seem like lovely guys, and formed a good rapport with the audience. They went down well, which is kind of a tough call when you're a buzz band playing to an audience of cynical hipsters who really aren't there to see you.

But vague, cliched boogie, even filtered through 30 years of thrash, grunge, and other post punk machismo mutations ain't my thing.

Too much 'baby' and 'whisky'. Muppet thrash, grimy jockstraps, lumpen bloke beats, feedback used for authenticity the way metal bands used fingers on acoustic strings for ballads 25 years ago.

Hey, if you like Foo Fighters and Black Keys, you'll love this. If you don't it's like being dropped in an especially shit part of the 1970s. Or even more tedious than usual Tarantino movie.

Death Grips.

The place was packed from the start. It thinned out a little after the support as people went for drinks or a smoke, but I still couldn't get to the front.

The band had two screens onstage. Kind of outsized tablets stood vertically playing out their videos - I think I recognised bits of Get Got and No Love.

But they were kind of irrelevant. Further back than where I started you couldn't see them. And from there to the front of the stage you were too focussed on the music, on dancing, and on Ride and Zach to give a fuck what any screen was doing.

The band didn't fuck around getting started. They kicked off pretty quick. Ride and Zach starting shirtless.

It wasn't just posturing, it was necessary. The room was an inferno. They were already sweating, and so was the audience.

The sound was slightly different than on the records inasmuch as it was mostly Zach's live beats - frenetic and hard - and Ride's vocals - more aggressive and providing more of the texture.

The other sounds were present but more or less reduced to bass and drones, background atmosphere.

They played hard. Total energy and commitment despite the heat.

A review of the London show talked about a sense of aggression. Other than sonically I didn't get that. The audience was kind of testosterone and shoving, but less obnoxiously so than some rock gigs I've enjoyed.

That might be it was a fairly ATP/Supersonic kind of crowd.

Anyway, plenty moshing from the get go far back into the room. I figured rather than fight my way forward to start with I'd ride the crowd through the gaps I could find.

Ended up one person back from the front round left stage.

You had to fight - or at least keep pushing forward - to stay front. Probably accounted for some of the sweat. You slacked off a minute you got swept back.

But it was good-natured - people smiling - I shook hands with a couple of people during lulls.

Only one stagediver. Not sure why - maybe just wasn't that kind of audience, that kind of venue, that kind of night.

The music was urgent, present, blistering, harsh and really fucking skilled.

I mean you know that already. But it's been a crazy two years - Exmilitary out of nowhere opening with Charles Manson - two records this year - the cancelled tour in summer to record the second of those - the falling out with Epic - releasing No Love Deep Web for free with an erect cock as the cover art - and some of the shit they've tweeted (till they closed the account) and thrown out on Facebook.

All of that's given an atmosphere of unpredictability and instability about the band.

Throw in Ride's image and lyrics, and the fact Zach Hill's played - and plays - with so many acts, often struggling to find people who can keep up with him, and it's felt like Death Grips is a project with a limited lifespan. At some point it all might blow apart.

I definitely had a sense if I didn't catch them this time I might not have another chance.

They played tracks from the 2011 mixtape Exmilitary, from this spring's The Money Store, and from No Love Deep Web.

All intense, all savage. Hard rhythms. The odd word and phrase flaring out.

Surging limbs and lurching bodies. Compelling. Hands reaching.

Then it was done. They left the stage. Probably couldn't have played any more.

Gig of the year.

Fucking gig of the fucking year for me easily.

That's it. Check out the records. See 'em live if you can. Pretend you always knew. Dance yourself thin and tell your grandkids in 50 years. They'll be so fucking jealous.