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When this album was released in 2003 I had no idea how big of a deal it was. I thought the Blood Brothers were just another insignificant little Seattle post-hardcore band that only I and a few friends knew about. But damn, this record took the "underground" music scene by storm and it's not so surprising now that I realize it was out on a label owned by Richard Branson, Ross Robinson produced it, and Pitchfork gave it a fucking 9.1 rating. I don't think anyone else realized that at the time either, but hot damn was this a poplar record. Androgynous male singers singing about who the fuck knows what, subtle keyboard hooks, and neon colored album art. No wonder it was the patron saint of Livejournal rating communities everywhere.
ANYWAY, this album has not aged well and that's mostly due to the vocalists. Just can't stand anything they do, whether it's their shrill squeaks or overly serious spoken word/sung parts. It doesn't help that the lyrics are for the most part nonsensical. BUT the instrumentation is insane/intense while remaining laser precise. Epitaph should consider reissuing this as an instrumental.
