The Blood Brothers

Since the group’s bratty beginnings in 2002, fans and nonfans alike have debated whether a band as noisy and defiant as the Blood Brothers really jibes with the textbook definition of hardcore — or punk, for that matter. Turns out, the point isn’t really worth arguing. Like all of the albums that preceded it, Young Machetes, the latest release from the Seattle fivesome, breaks boundaries like a sharp kick to the shin. From the first few spastic shrieks of “Set Fire to the Face on Fire,” it’s clear that dueling singers Jordan Billie and Johnny Whitney have gone back to basics. Gone are the somewhat accessible melodies of Crimes, the band’s previous album. In those melodies’ place is the formula that made the Brothers so painfully fun to listen to from the start: Whitney’s snarling whine clawing its way out from under a full-on assault of screaming, time-shifting guitars, all ending in a crescendo that leaves you feeling like you lost a pint of blood somewhere around Track 11. In the end, the Brothers really don’t give a fuck how you label them. All that really matters is that they’ve created an album so multifaceted and engrossing, you’ll be busy trying to decipher it until the next one comes out.