"Come on, come on" scream The Blood Brothers as the chorus to 'Trash Flavoured Trash' and an invitation to new album 'Crimes', their first for new V2 record label home.

Bruising titles like 'Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck' prepare you for more schizophrenic, loose-limbed, high-pitched, hardcore but this time clash with the sleepy synths and relaxed electronics that pulse round the whole album.

'Rats...' stops, drops and rolls into Ricky Martin territory before becoming a garage riff workout that dies to the sound of Dillinger-esque jazziness.
The title track is a fantastic funerial march through a sanitarium, all out of tune humming, piano, and a lonely picked guitar.

So everything changes, this is still The Blood Brothers though.

The band still create stabbing messes of noise from which impossibly catchy tunes emerge; parts of 'Live at the Apocalypse Cabaret' and 'Crimes' are pure pop music. Their songs still fold together into feedback, telling warped stories with voices that sound like a proper punk rock Jack White and a hyper Marilyn Manson, and no one has taken that drunk away from the piano.

The jarring differences between 100mph thrash punk and catchy piano key melodies make whatever crazy pills the band are taking seem all the more effective. The constant, headache inducing, metallic rush of previous work has gone and 'Crimes' is allowed to breathe, and allowed to run.

"This is a fucking fantasy", or the best nightmare you ever had.

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