Higher-pitched and more deafening than an army of small poodles, the quintet known as the Blood Brothers fires off shrapnel-like noise that singes the ears. Their passionate, demented, ranting hardcore is surely not for average folk, though the band's latest record, Crimes, is much more palatable than past efforts that truly deserved the tag "extreme." The band that once appeared to be created only to peeve off parents now has melodies, actual singing, dainty piano tinkling and songs like "Trash Flavored Trash" and "Peacocks Skeleton With Crooked Feathers," which could even be played on the radio in an alternate universe. This is not to say that they don't still sound like a vile beast rampaging through a chicken coop. But it's their baroque, absurdist lyrics, comprehendible only in the CD booklet, that are the most inimitable aspect to these loud-ass kids.