Whitehouse. Click here to view flickr.

Whitehouse
Saturday 5th April 2008
Electrowerkz, Torrens Street, London

For reasons that I'd rather keep to myself, I ended up accompanying a friend to see the music documentary 'Shine A Light'. Showcasing two talents who should have really fucked off years ago: the film director Martin Scorsese and The Rolling Stones. Admittedly not a Stones fan by any stretch of the imagination, this slickly made ego trip did nothing to convince me to add any of their back catalogue to my collection....legal or otherwise. It seemed overblown, pompous and self-indulgent.

Similar criticisms could be leveled at Whitehouse. Not quite having a career as long as the Stones, but still impressively operating since 1980. William Bennett's 'Power Electronics' outfit is one of those acts that you have an opinion on very early on. There's no "oh, maybe some of their earlier stuff is different" approach to their previous works. Or even appreciating it over time, letting age and attitude alter your perception of them. It's a simple case of you either love them or hate them.

When discussing Whitehouse, I often find myself speaking in an almost apologetic tone. Trying to make sense of why a well-heeled Asian lad from Islington would want to listen to something so....'horrible'. But I do like Whitehouse. I'd never stopped to think that their lyrical content could be seen as offensive. I was just glad someone was out there doing this. Whilst I think that extremes in music are limits that can always be re-defined, Whitehouse did initially prompt such questions as 'How much further could it go?'.

So it comes to pass that William has tired of touring and decided to rest the project, whilst co-conspirator Philip Best will continue on in a similar vein as Consumer Electronics. Tonight kicked off a farewell tour and the crusty stronghold of London's Electrowerkz (that place needs a good hosing down...with disinfectant) seemed an apt way to say goodbye to the capital.

So for one hour: Sony Vaio / Toshiba Tecra spat out a constant stream of white noise, pink noise and collapsing drums. Philip licked his personal diary dry whilst emitting his unique brand of obscene venom. William interjected with his curiously humourous monotone delivery. And by the end of it all, they'd stripped off to the waist, engaged spit with nipples to trigger excitement and feverishly simulated sex with each other. Can't really see the Stones doing that on stage.

On the way back from the bar, I overheard one guy trying to explain Whitehouse to his unitiaited friend and clearly exasperated, summarised them as "The Spinal Tap of Industrial Music....only not as bad."