Review Summary: A horror show among any other names just as terrifying.
William Bennett is the one sicko among a crowd of sickos who isn't afraid to admit he is a sicko. In
Psychopathia Sexualis, Whitehouse delves deeper and deeper and deeper into the dark catacombs that is the killer instinct; the animalistic urge that drives one person to kill another. The result is an almost cult like gathering of roaring and hate that worships itself and its utter depravity.
The contents of the album basically encapsulate the second part of Whitehouse's
Serial Killer Trilogy.
Peter Kurten returns to Whitehouse's favorite devil, and lightens things up by screeching our ears off and leaving massive scratching throughout the track.
Edward Paisenel is amazing; we are given a swirling synth noise as we hear speaking in the background. Suddenly, heavy close up breathing erupts from the track along with the synth and the speaking becomes overlapped. It leaves this enduring creepy feeling that never goes away. The speaking parts are one of the main pieces of the album itself, and
Boston Strangler brings out the screeching once again, but adds this heavily distorted distress moaning. The result creates this prison like atmosphere that both captivates and terrifies.
The rest of the tracks on this album all mostly follow the same pattern, except
Live Action 4 (Complete) which is from a live showing.
Peter Sutcliffe doesn't waste any time trying new things, as tape manipulation mixes in with the screeching, leaving this thunderous roar that echoes through the track as if God just descended to pass judgement on the sinners of mankind.
Fritz Haarman takes quite a while to get going, as slow beeps begin pushing themselves through before endless microphone feedback starts bursting in and out through the track.
The entire album has this religious feel to it, and it isn't hard to understand why. The reality of life is that we will never stop giving serial killers nicknames and fame, because we will always be captivated by their unorthodox madness. We will always give them fame, that's what we do as humans. They kill, rape, murder, and it captivates our darkest imaginations. It's sick, but we are all sick and William Bennett knows this. He understands that we are all afraid to admit our own inbred insanity, our odd attraction to the sick fucks of society, so he decides to say what we all can't. He chooses to bear the burden of admitting a painful reality, one that we all know is true, but can't bring ourselves to see.
