Pop Montreal: Death Grips + B L A C K I E + Kou Chou Ching + Da Pink Noise @ Club Lambi

If you're ever bored, try to find somewhere on the Internet where conventional hip-hop heads try to make sense of the semi-mysterious Sacramento act Death Grips (might I suggest this?). Despite the confusion and occasional antipathy, their Exmilitary mixtape has garnered them a solid following among the sonically adventurous, thanks in no small part to their Bomb Squad-on-mescaline approach (complete with classic punk references and samples). Still, it was a mild shock to see Club Lambi quite literally packed for an act that didn't exist a few months ago (the Mirror's cover story couldn't have hurt, mind).

First up, though, was Da Pink Noise, whose entire set I almost missed as a result of poor timing. Still, I saw enough to get a thorough impression of their sound; it's a sort of retro-futuristic electro-hop, of the sort envisioned in early-90s future dystopias (some of which have, chronologically, come and "gone" already). Not long after that came Kou Chou Ching, an award winning Taiwanese rap group. It's easy to see how they came to nab an audience; they're a fun, likeable crew with a very old-school sensibility and a pretty damn tight live show. Plus, they managed to elicit some crowd interaction without much English (and no French). No small feat. The last opener, B L A C K I E, turned out to be an insanely good fit for our esteemed headliners, also, insane. That his new LP is called True Spirit and Not Giving a Fuck and he's been posited as the first true American grime act says more about his approach to assaultive avant-hip-hop than this blurb ever could.

Despite getting a thorough thrashing from B L A C K I E, there was enough anticipation in the room for Death Grips' inaugural Montreal set that a huge (by Lambi standards) group had amassed pretty tightly at the front of the stage - and sure enough, when the trio took the stage (including ubiquitous drummer Zach Hill and fierce frontman MC Ride) to "Guillotine," things got heated. Hill's typically fleet drumming, employed in the service of high-energy rap, is truly a thing to behold; it's no surprise that the set turned out to be only about 35-minutes. It's hard to imagine anyone feeling short-changed, though, and not just because of the multiple support acts - simply put, Death Grips killed. Anyone that can work up a crowd enough that even this mild-mannered, sadcore-loving shut-in finds himself shouting along on "I Want It I Need It" ("VOLCANO PUSSY MELT YOUR PEENER LIKE ICE!"... *ahem*) and deeply considering stage-diving in the space of barely a half-hour is doing it right. Here's hoping their brand of incendiary hip-hop catches on; the genre could use a lot more fury and a lot less posturing.

-Simon H hosts Sucker Blues on Wednesdays from 4-5pm