Like any fan of Seattle hardcore band the Blood Brothers, I have found myself at a show, pressed up against a wall of people, shouting the wrong lyrics to their songs. For instance, on their hit "USA NAILS" there's a hook where you think you're singing a cheer-style "one, one, and two!" but the lyrics are actually: "These pigs locked me up to see what color I'd rot into!"
The energetic screamo group was active from 1997-2007, during which time they released five critically-acclaimed albums, completed several European tours, and even played a set on Jimmy Kimmel Live, overcoming the reservations of the show's freaked-out producers. Perhaps the best indicator of their success is the fact that their US reunion tour—which hits Seattle on November 14 and 15—is selling out in several cities.
Ever ones to cut the bullshit, Blood Brothers don't have a new record; they're playing the fucking hits. Still, the tour is timed with Epitaph's anniversary reissue of one of their biggest albums Crimes (2004) on vinyl.
When we sat down to talk to Johnny Whitney, who fronts the band with fellow singer/screamer/guttural whisperer Jordan Blilie, he noted that plenty of lyrics websites list incorrect verses for Blood Brothers songs. "It's hilarious how wrong some of them are," Whitney said. "The lyrics on Spotify are not even close to what I'm actually saying. Just buy the fucking CD, and look it up. Come on, people."
We spoke with Whitney and Blilie separately, over sprawling phone calls that we have organized into this piece. For clarity, we're listing their responses together, as we seek to get into the nitty gritty of this group's danceable, screaming-nightmare material.
Foremost, Whitney and Blilie both began by gushing about the other three members of their band: frenetic drummer Mark Gajadhar, vigorous guitarist Cody Votolato, and ultra-versatile bassist Morgan Henderson, who is currently best known as a member of Fleet Foxes.
"I cannot fucking believe that I got to work with these guys," Whitney says. "I just took all those things for granted at the time. Everybody was, and still is, coming from totally different places [musically], but there was always something really special about all of us together that was there from the moment that we started."
THE STRANGER: Johnny, I've always gotten the impression that you're the major force behind the lyrics.
JOHNNY WHITNEY: I came up with the majority of the lyrics, but it certainly was collaborative between Jordan and I. I would freewrite as much as I could, to have material to draw from, and going back to those notebooks kept things as free and fresh and not contrived as possible. The drawback of that approach is the lyrics are very abstract and hard to parse direct meaning from, but that's also kind of the point. I found myself writing about the absence of answers, or the absence of concrete truths that you can hold onto.
A lot of times, my process would center around coming up with a cool idea: a song name or some common refrain that we would want to work into a song, like "Burn Piano Island, Burn." Something that has a hook or conveys an image or feeling. Then we would reverse engineer the lyrics from that.
JORDAN BLILIE: I would absolutely say that I felt like Johnny was the driver, and for good reason. He's really good. When you see someone who is in a flow state, you do your best to accentuate and collaborate, to help mold and shape and add your pieces. It was always stuff that I was really excited to dig into. It was just that rich and that vibrant. The challenge for me was what can I add to it, you know? It always pushed me to try and come up with the most creatively-inspired stuff that I could.
You two have such an engaging stage style. People would call it sassy, but that has always felt like a description from people who have never been to a play and can't recognize theater. Do either of you have a background in theater arts?
WHITNEY: I wanted to be a child actor—I actually auditioned for that movie Blank Check (1994). Actually, a year after Jordan and I met, we were both in a Jr. High production of Alice in Wonderland. He was the Mad Hatter, and I was the Mock Turtle.
BLILIE: Why would you say that? [Laughs]
Jordan Blilie (left) and Johnny Whitney (right) Suzette Smith Jordan Blilie screams on the tour's first night in San Francisco. Suzette Smith"USA NAILS" was such a hit, and it involved a phone number everyone could scream. How did that come to be?
WHITNEY: The name and the "1-900-USA-NAILS" comes from the chain nail salon, but we reverse-engineered it into a song about somebody using their one phone call from the county jail to call a phone sex line. It's the idea of loneliness, disaffection, and parasocial relationships with things that exist solely for their own profit or gain.
And yet it's also danceable. There are these moments live where you have an audience of people shaking their asses and shouting "to see what color I'd rot into!" Did you start with that idea and work backwards, or just jam it into that moment of the song?
WHITNEY: At that time, the band would all sit together in a room and have a kind of song tribunal about how each part should go. Then, at some point, we'd have a semi -finished version and [Jordan and I] would just try to fit lyrics to the songs. Especially on Burn, Piano Island, Burn. Some of those songs needed an editor so bad, right? I wouldn't change a thing about it, but looking back, there are parts where it sounds like everybody's playing a different song at the same time, but it kind of works, right? And for the lyrics, sometimes we just had to make it work.
That wasn't the first time Jordan whispered his lyrics in a guttural tone, but it's one of the more emblematic, right? How did that start?
BLILIE: By necessity—I don't have much of a range, you know? I have this weird baritone. Very early on we were drawing from crust punk, where you just have two voices screaming. And we didn't put a whole lot of thought into even what the other person was doing. But then, as we continued to develop, the stuff became more complex, and there was more room for different sorts of shadings of what we could do vocally. So it was just finding out: What is it I can do other than scream at the top of my lungs?
WHITNEY: Jordan's part at the end just works right? He was very inspired by Jarvis Cocker.
BLILIE: Yeah, you can trace that right back to Pulp. If you listen to any Pulp song, there's gonna be some whispery storytelling, with the compression cranked up so you can kind of hear every lick of the lips.
BLILIE: Some of my favorite moments of writing with Johnny are the ones that we would where we would crack each other up.
Can you give an example?
BLILIE: Every lyric of "Guitarmy." We really got a kick out of the idea of opening our major label debut with the words, "do you remember us?" Because of the audacity, the absurdity of it.
So you guys all started this band when you were in your teens.
BLILIE: Yeah, we started when we were like, 15-16.
Are there any lyrics that have not aged well, in your opinion?
BLILIE: I'm sure they're the ones that we're not playing. [Laughs.] This question reminds me of something one of my professors said. It was my first class at UCLA, Queer Lit from Walt Whitman to Stonewall. In class discussions my fellow classmates would critique writing from the 1800s for not satisfying certain criteria, and our professor would say: You cannot look at the text backwards. You have to look at it forwards. You can't apply current day criteria to something that was written when that criteria didn't even exist. You have to engage with it in the context of when it was written. I don't think anything we wrote is in a canon warranting that level of examination, but it's useful nonetheless. It's a way for me to remind myself that I was 20, and I had the tools of a 20-year-old. It helps me to not beat myself up too much about it.
WHITNEY: There's a story behind this. When we were doing the song "Camouflage, Camouflage" on Young Machetes, Jordan and I were going back and forth on the lyrics. He was like, "Yeah, I'm great with all this." But he put a line through one verse, where I say: "All the girls in Montreal are smashing skateboards in the street." And I was just like: Fuck you, dude. I'm gonna keep this in. But he was right, because it sounds stupid, and it's like, really horny and makes me want to light my skin on fire. So I'm changing it to something else, probably something different every night.
Johnny Whitney (left) holds a crowd member's hand for support. Suzette Smith The crowd supports Johnny Whitney while he sings. Suzette SmithI wonder about imagery in Blood Brothers' songs that seems to be responding to beauty standards at the time. Like, in "Ambulance, Ambulance" you've got this blistering segue to the chorus: "What is love? / What is scam? / What is sun? / What is tan?"
WHITNEY: That's a double meaning. Because it's like tan—like suntan—but also tan is a blah color, right? It's like the color of a dentist's office wall. If you think of the idea of love being something that could feel on-fire, passionate, the color of a dentist's office wall is the opposite. Although, tanning does come into play in a lot of our lyrics. I've noticed as well.
Or on "Beautiful Horses" the lyrics are "gallop into your romance novels / dance atop heavy pectorals."
BLILIE: I think we were seeing an increasingly vapid culture, and we were trying to dig into that—dig into: What does it do to someone when they're bombarded by these sorts of images and messages? There was a lot of that in that writing; I can't say specifically with "Beautiful Horses," but I think "Trash Flavored Trash," would probably fit under that umbrella.
In "Rats and Rats and Rats for Candy" there's an ongoing narrative of rats living inside a woman. It's like a play. There are characters. And the rats eventually chew out of her and try to find a new body to live in. I wondered if that was also about beauty standards or body dysmorphia?
WHITNEY: That song, it's about that, but it's also about manipulation, right? Not to get too personal, but I grew up with somebody who weaponized being sick—faked being sick—for their entire life in order to manipulate people and extract something they needed out of them. The character in that song is kind of a victim, but like a siren at the same time. They're trying to lure somebody in.
Is that person the rats, or are they Candy?
WHITNEY: The rats are in Candy. I mean, it's both.
What about "The Shame?" Your group resonates so much with "everything is gonna be just awful / when we're around" that you're putting it on t-shirts 20 years later. What does it mean?
WHITNEY: The whole premise of that song is having to sell yourself—how to commoditize yourself. It's about how you function in a capitalist society. You sink or swim by your ability to market yourself, make yourself desirable—whether it be in relationships, job market, blah blah blah. I've always been repulsed by that and was especially at the time we wrote it, which was in Venice Beach, while we were recording Burn, Piano Island, Burn. It was the longest time I'd ever been in LA, and that's the epicenter of being a self-salesman. That line encapsulates the feeling of being sold something. And you're in a position where, in order to survive, you have to be your own salesman.
Salesmen show up in other songs, like "The Salesman, Denver Max." That's another one that almost feels like a short story.
WHITNEY: I initially cribbed the idea for that song's lyrics from the Joyce Carol Oates short story, "Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?" It follows a narrative of a very dangerous, predatory man in the process of stalking and kidnapping somebody. “Denver Max” was a huge, uncomfortable gamble for me, because I wrote the entire song on my acoustic guitar, recorded it to a 4-track, and then played it for the guys—totally expecting them to hate it. It was really daunting to try to contribute as a songwriter; Cody, Morgan, and Mark are such talented musicians. I think they may have hated it; I don't really remember how we ended up recording it. It was nobody's favorite thing, but we just tracked it, and it sounded great and worked.
Have you read anything by playwright Caryl Churchill?
WHITNEY: Never heard of her.
"Live at the Apocalypse Cabaret" has a lyric in it that reminds me of her play Far Away, which has a scene of milliners making hats for people to wear at a public execution, so I always felt a symmetry there, because of the lyrics "the cross-eyed map of the afterlife is knitting tiny neck ties."
WHITNEY: I'm going to be super honest, the songs that I'm the most familiar with the lyrics of, at this very moment, are songs that were going to be playing, because I've been rehearsing them. But I do remember, with that song, we were trying to be funny without being silly. Like, a cross-eyed map is a map that makes no sense, where you don't know where you're going. Knitting tiny neckties are noose ties. It's like dressing yourself up for death, right? It's trying to dress up something that's really heinous and horrible and incomprehensible, and also trying to navigate that, through a map that makes no sense.
At this moment you have cracked my understanding of a play you haven't even read. But I digress, I've read that "Celebrator" was a direct response to Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue."
BLILIE: That pumped up patriotism felt gross when taken in context with the images and much of the information that we were seeing come out of Iraq and Afghanistan.
Is that why there are so many mentions of amputated limbs on Crimes?
BLILIE: The bulk of Crimes was trying to engage with war so that's where you get a lot of that grizzly imagery.
Well, personally, it's so nice that you're touring right now. Blood Brothers are great for when you need to scream, but you can't. You can scream along to the Blood Brothers in your head, or out loud at a show.
BLILIE: I'm glad that we could be of service, in that regard. It's hard for me not to go into a really bleak mindset when I look at our current political landscape. I find myself equal parts enraged and terrified. And there are times when I have to just close all news down. I guess it is a good time to get up and scream.
The Blood Brothers play the Showbox Thurs, Nov 14 and Fri, Nov 15. Thursday's show is all ages, and Friday's is 21+.
This story was originally published in our sister paper, Portland Mercury.
