Some albums are so twisted that when you listen to them, you think your CD player might be busted. But give the Blood Brothers' new disc, Crimes, a spin, and you'll be convinced there's a glitch going off somewhere inside your cerebellum. Not that the Seattle quintet has ever seemed fully stable: A single consecutive listening of its three previous full-lengths has never been attempted, though a team of lab technicians has theorized that such an experiment might get Amnesty International all over your ass. But where that earlier stuff is still too fixated on white belts and hand claps, Crimes comes on like Frank Zappa and the Residents forming an arena-prog ensemble and doing flaming cabaret renditions of old San Diego hardcore. Even as shit starts to fly apart, though, the band superhumanly holds it all together with wit, weirdness and an uncanny knack for twisting logic for its own sinister purposes. Crimes is undoubtedly broken -- but you'll have a hard time finding anything here that needs fixing. (Catch the Blood Brothers this Friday, October 15, at the Gothic Theatre with Against Me!)
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