After garnering endlessly approving pitchfork reviews praising the heraldry of dick-pic album covers for the genius that, apparently, is Death Grips, DG did the dick-genius move of – when hipsters were tracking them to the right – swerving left (probably into oncoming traffic, holding newborn babies out in front of them for protection), and dropping, like, a remix album.

For real guys, get over your prized viral find: Government Plates, with its snippet / manipulated vocals and emphasis on electronics, is as close to remix as something gets… if and when there’s no remixed source.  Yeah, I sorta had to look up if this was an actual album and not some chop and paste thing, and then I had to decide if I hate Death Grips.

I don’t.  But – maybe purposefully – they make it tough.

Money Store was Beastie Boys hidden behind a front of violence; No Love got closer to having an actual point by stripping things back so we could actually appreciate the skills on display.  If the difference between these releases could be said to be a trend, then Government Plates certainly continues that by being its own thing, which, despite my above snark, is something I do appreciate about their material.  It was hard to read at first, but there seems to be an embracing of… non-identity, which has allowed them to shift sensibilities at will.  Not genre, per se – this still isn’t pop – but divisive antics have given way to an incredibly boring album cover and 11 tracks that mostly favor Morin and Hill’s instrumentals over singer Barnett’s signature deep, aggressive stutter.

Lest we forget who we’re listening to, though, the album opens with the stunning screams and speaker-breaking beats of the whut titled You Might Think He Loves You For Your Money But I Know What He Really Loves You For It’s Your Brand New Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat, and its not like Barnett’s done with his shtick, as it pops up on followup Anne Bonny and various other tracks.  But the intro is really the only song that’s identifiably Death Grips; most other tracks sink into this oddball mix of house beats and chopped up rap stutters; cacophony and zoned-out raves.  It’s a fascinating mix – and does result in some amazing blends of styles, as on Bonny and Birds – but most of the time it’s just difficult to get a vibe going.  Once you have the album’s pulse, its an easy re-listen – probably easier than the prior releases – but it’s also very clearly veered into territory where Grips are making music for themselves, and not necessarily their audience, and that wall keeps the album from ever being too engaging beyond those highlight songs.