Monday, 2 July 2012

Whitehouse - Mummy And Daddy

"This album is actually quite a worrying one for me. There is a neurosis about some of this work that is genuinely shocking and reaches an intensity that even I could never have dreamt of discovering. There is no explicit sexual content whatsoever - some of the themes cover domestic violence and abuse, subjects that held little interest to me until relatively recently. It will be a sexy record though, in my opinion - but not in the way most people would recognise. In fact, I think a lot of Whitehouse fans may even intensely dislike this album and, by the same token, I don't think we'll acquire many new fans from it. That doesn't really trouble me at all - there is a beauty about music when, on those very rare moments, it takes you to a level where you think it can't get any better. Perfection at a given moment. These feelings mixed with some of this subject matter, however, are deeply disturbing."
William Bennett (7th Jan 98)

The fainthearted should be warned of the recordings of Whitehouse.Noise music freaks will find even the most abrasive works of Merzbow, C.C.C.C., and the like to pale next to the extremity of these recordings. This group works with concepts of brutality and harshness in sound and content -- an approach that is difficult to stomach for even hardened noise listeners. This depraved and violent project's tenure lasted throughout the '80s and '90s when they released some of the harshest and most difficult recordings that the post-industrial and underground noise camps would witness. Fans of the group should know that this recording presents quite a departure from the analog sound of earlier works. In its place is an equally abrasive wall of digital noise made up of hammering beats and high-pitched drilling-tone punishment, over which the trademark dialogues of depravity and sickness are delivered in clipped distortion. An exercise in utter repulsion, there is no denying that Whitehouse represents a necessary extreme in avant-garde noise music, making it their business to push the limits a few notches too far; by challenging every taboo and violating the listener, the work is profoundly discomforting to say the least. In going beyond the limits, Whitehouse raises questions of acceptability in art that surmount to a conceptual polemic inquiry which would inevitably be made in the dark realms of the extreme. Someone has to set the threshold, and Whitehouse made that their goal for a good 20 years, which culminates in this subversive masterwork.
Igor Savtchenko, Amazon review


If you're going to buy this album, it helps to accept that this is essentially a split between the band and Peter Sotos. If you came just for one or the other, half of this album is going to come off as padding. That being said, this is the best work that either of these artists have come up with, bar none, and together, they form one of the greatest CDs in the field of power electronics.

Whitehouse's half of the album sees the band in top form, merging the best tactics analogue and digital had to offer. From the opening ring of a distorted bitcrusher on "Philosophy of the Wife-Beater," Whitehouse let loose a harrowing, intense testiment to the six-armed, three-headed god of terror forged of nearly twenty years creation.

A couple of years ago I was sitting backstage at a gig sipping red wine with Whitehouse’s William Bennet and it dawned on me that THIS was extreme. Extreme wasn’t the guys showing off how ‘crazy’ they are by jumping from high mountains or wearing a Cradle of Filth tee-shirt (don’t pretend you don’t know which ones I’m talking about), it was Whitehouse, who weren’t afraid to take their pure unfettered aggression out on stage (and trust me they did) and then relax with wine and chatter in the aftermath. Like the best serial killers, you’d never have suspected them until you found a sofa stuffed with rotting corpses. ‘Mummy and Daddy’ hit the shelves in 1998, 18 years after the band’s conception and showed them in their digital phase, using computer effects to take their sound into levels of total extremity. With tracks such as ‘A C**t Like You’ and ‘Philosophy of the Wife-Beater’ showing the trio’s dark sentiment lyrically and through their use of ear shattering bitcrushed white noise, the album ends on maybe their grimmest moment; ‘Private’ which is a 20 minute cut-and-paste piece, compiling tape recordings of rape victims and other such shocking samples guaranteed to leave you reeling. This is extreme music, all that’s left to do is enjoy it.


You’ll never look this good again
You’ll never be younger than this

The words that slide out of their lazy holes are the same as any other road noise
Noise as sad representation
A safe remove, aggrandising, desperate, resigned and ultimate separation
Only words
But they’re words I collect
Words I fuck
Thoughts and campaigners I covet and care so very much about that I keep the showy wrapping paper

Say it: only words
Say it: it wasn’t her fault
Say it: monster
Perfect pure product
Bugs flit around looking for an in
Something comfortable
It wants truth
It wants to be fooled
It needs to be convinced
It’s looking for a little religion
A suggestion on what works

Mummy taught you how to like it
Daddy taught you how to sleep
You don’t want those tangles in your hair like when mummy pulled a comb through, do you?

Pay attention
Let me wipe your face, your little lip and cheeks
This is what adults do
This is what adults do
Say no

Say stop
Say no you’re not
Right now, mummy said don’t
I wanna go home
Mummy said
This is what you get
What you take in
It only happens once
I’m going to teach you to sing
And teach you to worry about others
The way you worry about yourself
So why don’t you talk to your daddy any more?
Name yourself
Not Cunt
Nothing happens
Not this
Not cunt
Not just this
Not just another hole
A tighter comparable pit
This time saying
Not cunt
What’s bad?
What’s bad for you?
When did it stop being enough?
Doing good enough
Not this
Not just this
Not just another hole
For baby?
What did mummy say?
Does mummy let you do this?

How do you apply lipstick?
How do you apply blush?
How do you fold scented kleenex?
What’s talcum powder for?
How do you put on your knickers?
How do you pull on your tights?
How do you cross your legs?
Where do you wear perfume?
How do you walk in those heels?
Little miss
Little doll
Little dolly
You’ll always be this beautiful
No matter how old and stupid and blank and pinned-up and tucked and sucked in and high-heeled and lied and drugged - just like your mummy looks now
Little full empty head
You were born for this
What do you think the makeup’s for?
The kleenex? The blush?
The cocksucker red lipstick?
The bleached hair?
The talcum powder? Your knickers and tights?
The heels? Mummy’s shoes?
Your painted toenails?
Do you know there’s nothing more?
Your coming tits
Your ass
Your cunt
What the fuck do you think it’s for?
You’ll never look this good again
You’ll never be younger than this
I can see all that
And I’m not wrong about any of it

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