LOS ANGELES, CA- In the dimly lit heart of downtown Los Angeles, The Belasco Theater became a cathedral for post-hardcore fans on November 8, 2024. The occasion? The triumphant return of The Blood Brothers after a decade-long hiatus, celebrating the 20th anniversary of their seminal fourth album, Crimes. For a band whose frenetic sound once defined an era of experimental punk, this reunion was a chance to relive their explosive glory and witness a rare moment of reconciliation between their storied past and uncertain future.
The years apart saw the members diverge into eclectic paths: Jordan Blilie and Morgan Henderson delved into more experimental territory with their project Past Lives, Mark Gajadhar pursued his creative vision through EDM as DJ Sabzi, and Cody Votolato toured with various acts, including Head Wound City and Jaguar Love. Johnny Whitney, meanwhile, became an author and continued exploring his musical eccentricities. Yet, as the five-piece took the stage together, it felt as though no time had passed, their collective energy as volatile and electrifying as ever.
The evening’s proceedings began with a set from Deaf Club, an opening act that immediately set a blistering tone for the night. Fronted by the inimitable Justin Pearson, a veteran of the San Diego hardcore scene and known for his work with The Locust and Dead Cross, Deaf Club’s sound was a chaotic whirlwind of unrelenting noise. Their aesthetic was visceral and confrontational, combining jagged guitar riffs, rapid-fire drumming, and Pearson’s snarling, often unhinged vocal delivery. From the moment they launched into their first track, it was clear that Deaf Club was not merely filling time but actively reshaping the atmosphere of the venue, priming the audience for the chaos to come.
Pearson’s stage presence was magnetic—equal parts punk provocateur and performance artist. He stomped, flailed, and prowled the stage like a caged animal, locking eyes with members of the audience as though daring them to look away, and if they did, lunging into the crowd supported by the crowd rail force them to look at him. Deaf Club’s music is not for the faint of heart, but for those who revel in the unorthodox and the abrasive, it was definitely what the doctor ordered.
By the time Deaf Club finished their set, the crowd was left in a state of exhilarated exhaustion. The stage had been metaphorically scorched, a fitting prelude to the incendiary return of The Blood Brothers. Deaf Club’s performance was more than an opening act; it was a statement of intent, a declaration that the night was about more than nostalgia—it was about the enduring power of music to challenge, provoke, and inspire.
As the house lights dimmed, an anticipatory hush fell over the crowd, swiftly replaced by a roar of approval as the opening strains of the “Terminator Theme” filled the venue. This cinematic introduction served as a harbinger of the mechanical fury that The Blood Brothers were about to unleash. Launching into “Set Fire to the Face on Fire,” the band wasted no time in reigniting the volatile chemistry that had always set them apart.
Frontmen Jordan Blilie and Johnny Whitney were a study in contrasts yet operated in perfect unison. Blilie’s baritone growls intertwined seamlessly with Whitney’s piercing falsetto shrieks, creating a vocal tapestry that was as unsettling as it was captivating. Their stage presence was electric, a kinetic display of raw emotion and physicality that belied the years since their last performance.
The setlist was a meticulously curated journey through the band’s discography, with a pronounced emphasis on Crimes. Tracks like “Trash Flavored Trash” and “Love Rhymes With Hideous Car Wreck” were delivered with a ferocity that transported the audience back to the early 2000s, a time when The Blood Brothers were at the vanguard of a burgeoning post-hardcore movement. The inclusion of “Ambulance vs. Ambulance” and “Burn, Piano Island, Burn” paid homage to their earlier work, reminding long-time fans of the band’s evolution from chaotic punk roots to a more refined yet still anarchic sound.
The audience, a diverse assembly of aging scenesters and younger acolytes, responded with fervor. Mosh pits erupted in a cathartic release of pent-up energy, bodies colliding in a physical manifestation of the music’s visceral impact. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a palpable sense of community—a shared recognition of the rarity of the experience unfolding before them. Even as Johnny’s body hovered and surfed over the crowd, his safety was never in question, with countless hands held aloft to guide him safely back to the stage.
Between songs, the band members expressed genuine gratitude, their interactions with the crowd underscoring the symbiotic relationship that had always fueled their performances. Whitney, in particular, seemed moved by the outpouring of support, his characteristic intensity tempered by moments of reflective appreciation. In a recent social media post, Johnny poured his heart out with the following:
“I have so much gratitude to express to everyone for the #bloodbrothers shows these past couple months. You all mean the world to me and this tour was without question the most fun I have ever had as a performer.
Giving up music in 2010 to teach myself software engineering was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was broke and totally burnt out from 10 years of touring. In order to make it from here to Netflix I had to shut the door completely on music and that was painful.
When we all started talking about getting back together in 2022 I’ll be honest most of the reason I wanted to do it was to reconnect with the other guys in the band. We are family and have spent the majority of our adult lives together and I really miss them. After the energy we got back from everyone at first show at @bestfriendsforeverfest it was clear that this tour was not just going to be a fun way to reconnect, it was going to be bigger, better and so much more authentic than anything we had done before.
And it really was. Every night I met so many of you and heard your stories about how the blood brothers affected your lives or got you through hard times or defined something meaningful about your youth. I feel so blessed to be a part of something that had so much impact on so many of you. And you know what?? You all have had a huge impact on us! Art does not exist within a vacuum and every one of you that has come out to our shows over the years to scream and jump and get sweaty have enabled us to live a completely insane privileged life and make art the way we want to in expensive studios and see the world and play on tv and all the other things that we got to do that on paper should absolutely never have happened to a band of freaks that play music explicitly for freaks.
So thank you, I love you all more than you could know and am changed from this experience. I feel a groundswell of inspiration from every one of you that came out for this tour and I fully intend on channelling it into more music or writing or something I haven’t thought of yet. You can bet you will be hearing from me again in 2025 and beyond.
Love you all forever
Xoxo Johnny
The encore was a triumphant culmination of the night’s journey. “Guitarmy” and “Beautiful Horses” were delivered with a renewed vigor, the band pouring every ounce of their being into the final moments of the set. As the last notes of “The Shame” reverberated through The Belasco, there was a collective exhalation—a recognition that something truly special had transpired.
In an era where band reunions are often cynical cash grabs, The Blood Brothers’ return felt authentic, driven by a genuine desire to reconnect with their art and their audience. The performance was a testament to the enduring power of their music, a visceral reminder of a time when boundaries were meant to be obliterated, and conventions were nothing more than targets for creative destruction.
For those in attendance, the night was a bridge between past and present, a chance to relive the unbridled passion of youth while appreciating the maturity that comes with time. It was a celebration not just of an album or a band, but of a shared ethos—a commitment to the idea that music can be a force of nature, capable of inspiring chaos and fostering connection in equal measure.
As the crowd dispersed into the Los Angeles night, there was a lingering sense of euphoria, tempered by the bittersweet acknowledgment that such moments are fleeting. The Blood Brothers had returned, however briefly, to remind us of the beauty in the cacophony, the poetry in the pandemonium. In doing so, they reaffirmed their place in the pantheon of bands that have not just challenged the status quo but have redefined it on their own uncompromising terms.
In the end, the reunion was more than a nostalgic trip down memory lane; it was a powerful statement of artistic integrity and the timeless relevance of music that dares to defy convention. The Blood Brothers’ performance at The Belasco was a clarion call to all who bear witness: the spirit of true punk rebellion is alive and well, and its heartbeat is as erratic and exhilarating as ever.
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