Like all great shriekers before them, Seattle’s Blood Brothers understand melodrama and rage. They revel in shock and disgust. They thrive on nightmares and decay, and are fully committed to making an ugly world uglier. Best of all, they’re good at what they do.
Similar to a lot of dark, belligerent acts, the Blood Brothers commit themselves to the bleakest aspects of the human condition — nothing exactly new there. But they do manage to distinguish themselves with progressive time signatures that take their tunes on wild joyrides, complete with unexpected hairpin turns at reckless speeds. Though the band’s lyrics are hard to make out without a cheat sheet, dual frontmen Jordan Blilie and Johnny Whitney paint startling but minimalist pictures peppered with lisping roses, pregnant sirens, laughing guillotines, swollen vaginas in the sky, and deviants having sex with shaved horses. Hop on yours and get to this show.
This article appears in Nov 13-19, 2002.