Death Grips have to be the most love-it-or-hate-it proposition on the musical landscape today. If you're not a fan -- and I'm not -- then they can be a profound irritant. It's not just the intentionally grating blurt-blare of their music. It's the entire package: The album-cover dick pic, the festival no-shows, the sudden breakup and reunion, the Reddit threads full of breathless fans attempting to retrofit the group's erratic existence into something like a worldview. If you are, let's say, a professional music blogger, then Death Grips' whole prank-centric presence is enough to drive you up a fucking wall. So it's been easy to miss the fact that two of the three Death Grips have been quietly making dizzy, cranked-up psychedelic garage rock, releasing three albums in the last two years. And it's been even easier to miss the reality that they've gotten really fucking good.