The Blood Brothers are the sound of pop music going insane. The Seattle quintet cannot really be defined by genre, as it takes bits and pieces from every possible musical subculture featuring the words "post" or "core" and mashes them together in an organic stew of mathematical tempo changes, jagged guitars and cathartic thrash. Whatever this music is can be undeniably abrasive -- it's definitely not for everybody -- but it isn't pure noise. There is a method to the Blood Brothers' madness.
Slowly building a following in the underground with several independent releases, the Brothers caught the ear of producer Ross Robinson, who produced their major-label debut, 2002's Burn, Piano Island, Burn. The album was one of the year's best, tempering the band's assault with slick production that put the emphasis on the dueling vocal attack of Jordan Blilie and Johnny Whitney. Both vocalists are wonderfully talented, able to go through soulful croons, fist-pumping shouts and blood-curdling shrieks -- often within the same song. Live, they spit their stream-of-consciousness lyrics while bounding across the stage like Mick Jagger having a seizure, as the rest of the band remains relatively calm, anchoring the presence and keeping it from flying off into space.
The Blood Brothers have a new album due out soon and will most likely be previewing cuts from it this Friday night at the Creepy Crawl. But if you're afraid of music that might make you hurt yourself, you might want to stay home instead.