Whitehouse
Live at Brudenell Social Club on Thursday, 12th July 2007
It's been a long, excited wait for this to come along, since promoter Benbow told me a couple of months back that he'd "only gone and booked Whitehouse". There's a definite buzz in the air outside the venue, as lots of people mill around nervously waiting for things to begin.
At 8:30 pm, WhoresWhoresWhores take the stage, except for singer Jenko, who spends all of the set offstage and doing a lot of shouting. Riffing is heavy, shouting is compulsory and tinnitus essential. There's speed metal, hardcore, prog and punk in the mix, with Black Flag, Napalm Death, Sabbaff and many many more fighting like fuck to batter our heads. It ends with riffing/feedback interludes between bassist and guitarist, as they tease as many high/low frequency squeals as possible from their stacks. Top start to the night. Between the sets, Benbow has lined up Andrea Parker to reinterpret some of his fave bands' music. She's massively mashing everything up and it's a bassbin living, electroacoustician's dream come true, oh yes.
It's now 9:30 pm and it's double, topless Broken Bone action. A single strobe light illuminates the room and 2 blood splattered blokes begin their work. Darren stands rock steady behind a Mac and provides brutal beats and Tony, looking more and more like Charles Manson everyday, on shredding vocals. He's also in charge of the lingerie department tonight, as Jesus imaged knickers rain down on the crowd. Mrpoopoo correctly points out that what they create is akin to noise soup with extra carrot. Hard to argue with that logic as Bez in residence Andy begins his ear-defended shape-cutting. Nice.
There's about 70 in as time draws closer to Whitehouse starting their onslaught. Where are you Leeds gig-going punters? The duo come onstage with Bauhaus' mega "Bela Lugosi's Dead" playing over the PA, smart stuff. There are no instruments. There is a laptop, some pedals, 1 bass amp, 1 guitar amp, 2 mics and a mini theramin. What occurs is louder than Motörhead and my contact lenses are syncing with the bass in my face, which is very heavy sub-wise. There'll be a lot of shite to wash off clothing tomorrow, mother. For the uninitiated and still able of hearing, we are getting exponential brutality in the beat department, with a ranting potty mouth side salad. A note to all governments illegally holding "terrorists" - get this band to play to them for 10 minutes - they'll say whatever the fuck you want them too. If my teeth were vibrating as much as they are now, I'd admit to 'owt, even that Gordon Brown might not be a slave to big business and a helper of the whole rather than the super-rich. Cameron, eh? Showed his fucking colours. You get paid benefits for being married? Cunt, which is also a word used quite a lot in the current piece being played, with the bass making all resistance futile. We lie down and lick our wounds and hope to recover. Not a great deal of chance. Both men are flexing pecs and rubbing nipples and pushing sonic levels to new highs of non-hearing. Where are you Leeds? Sorry, what did you say?