Some bands are like street gangs. Others are like closeted gay relationships. The best, though, fall somewhere in between, and Detachment Kit (appearing Friday, June 4, at the Larimer Lounge) is just such a combo. Ian Menard and Charlie Davis formed the duo some dozens of months ago in Chicago, where they forged its 2002 debut, The Raging, Quiet Army. Now they've topped themselves -- and quite possibly each other -- with this glorious clusterfuck of an album. Quiet Army was what they used to call "angular" back before that made you sound stupid; the disc was a decent piece of post-hardcore genre allegiance, and that was about it. But now, for some reason, though the world doesn't deserve it, Menard and Davis have pushed their sexy synergy into whatever that place is beyond outer space. Instead of just ranting and screaming, Of This Blood sports ranting, screaming, blubbering, sighing and what might be the resounding clank of dueling belt buckles. Rhythm and melody form the beast with two backs; trumpets and xylophones flutter like heart valves. Some songs, such as the abrasively elegant "Chronology," paraphrase pre-90210 Flaming Lips, while others, most notably "Pill Cake," bear a weird yet unmistakable resemblance to Nirvana -- that is, if Nirvana had made In Utero under the influence of Creamsicles instead of heroin. But underneath it all, Of This Blood is a testament to the creative power of friends, fighters, brothers and lovers. Apparently, there are some extra people who play in the live lineup of Detachment Kit, but who cares? It's this record that matters: Two men, four testicles and the tingling, sticky thrill of new life.