 From
the rolling carnival organ and chiseled-beak thump of “Peacock
Skeleton with Crooked Feathers” to the tarnished gold
rope-chain bass line choking a dusty 808 break on “Teen
Heat,” the band finds a new vibrancy in its organic yet
forward thinking approach. “With Crimes,” says Johnny,
we were so comfortable with each other that we could just jam
and a song would come out of it.” “We very much
got back to how we wrote songs in basements,” adds Morgan.
One of the most potent in the batch is the lead single, “Trash
Flavored Trash.” A veritable audio brick lobbed at 5
o’clock news cameras, the song lambastes all that is
unfair and unbalanced in TV news. Johnny and Jordan spout
in a sugar-high shriek like they’ve gorged themselves
on orange-alert Skittles. “And I’ve done the division:
trash into trash equals trash flavored trash.”
Recorded in the backwoods of Seattle with producer John Goodmanson
(Blonde Redhead, Sleater-Kinney), Crimes is sonically arresting
and charged with intent. It’s also the perfect fix for
a dopesick rock scene jonesing for nostalgia and schmaltz.
Whether they’re aping a not-too-distant past in a 3-car
garage or earnestly tugging at young girls’ heartstrings,
an alarming number of bands these days seem content to run
in place - but not The Blood Brothers. “I’m more
interested in noise bands trying to do Japanese pop,”
declares Morgan.
Birthed in 1997, The Blood Brothers came together in response
to the heavy-handed rules of Seattle’s young punk community.
“There were so many musical no-nos,” Johnny says
of the time. “I remember feeling really shut in and
restricted.” Though still committed to various other
bands the Brothers soon became a vital outlet for each member.
“The fact that there was so much more support for The
Blood Brothers than any of our other bands was really liberating.”
In 2000 America nursed its collective hang-over from the
macro-brewed fear at the decidedly lame Y2K party. That same
year also saw the release of The Blood Brothers debut album
This Adultery is Ripe (Second Nature/Sound Virus). A hellish
cry from the ether of hardcore, the record is a 10-song carpet
bomb of psychosexual screeds for youth on the verge, stripped
bare but clutching their Born Against and Beatles LPs.
In 2001 they followed up with March On Electric Children
on indie stalwart ThreeOneG. A self described short story
set to music, the album chronicles a young girl’s descent
into the greenish dead eye of a television turned off. It’s
a tale of fleeting youth and beauty bought and sold in a septic
cycle of degradation set to music that churns and turns like
an ADD-afflicted toddler to a neon glare.
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