Because the world didn't have enough subgenres of popular music to deal with, along come Seattle's Blood Brothers to proclaim the arrival of "screamo." There are dozens of tightly wound bands whose anthemic rage has devolved into out-of-control fury, and Blood Brothers seem to proudly be at the vanguard of this development. Is "screamo" a good thing? Probably not, but "Burn Piano Island," Burn is a very good record. Locked into the crest of an attack, Blood Brothers are relentless on this album's dozen tracks, thanks to the production of Ross Robinson. Earlier works were possessed of a similar, if inchoate, violence. But the frenzy is palpably stronger here and not just because of "vocalist" Jordan Billie's seemingly infinite ability to shred his throat for our pleasure. The band utilizes all manner of instrumentation to build a wall of ferocity that, sadly, comes across as a blistering wave, rather than as the dense construction that it surely is. Yet, on tracks like "Fucking's Greatest Hits" and "Six Nightmares at the Pinball Masquerade," Blood Brothers refuse to collapse into chaos, delivering instead an effective sense of high-strung confusion. Good thing they came up with a new name for it.
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