Under most circumstances I’m slow to anger and not easily offended, but there’s something about the work of noise band
Whitehouse that never fails to get under my skin. Whitehouse had made a career out of exploring taboo subjects, mostly sex and serial killers, though I’m not sure if “exploring” is the right word, because I find that more often than not their music, such as it is, comes across as puerile and fatuous power fantasies. Each decade has a distinct sound; their music was at their crudest in the ‘80s, the ‘90s had better production on account of the presence of Steve Albini, though I’ve no idea what they did to deserve him, and the 2000s had a more digital sound and incorporated hand percussion. Of those eras, the 2000s are easily the most interesting because they actually have something resembling rhythmic function (especially
Racket), though that isn’t really saying much. If anything I’ve written about is deserving of a trigger warning, it’s most likely this album, so I might as well draft one now to save me trouble.
Trigger Warning: frank discussion of sexual assault, domestic violence, dissociation, trauma, self-harm, and suicidal ideation from someone who probably isn’t qualified to talk about any of those subjects.
Right, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to the music(?). The opener, “Why You Never Became a Dancer” wastes no time assaulting the ears; it sounds like a drum machine being fed through a woodchipper. Such is the backdrop to frontman William Bennett calling out artist Tracey Emin. For context, Emin once made a short film called Why I Never Became a Dancer, about how she was once into sex with older men, then she desperately tried to put that behind her and pursue dancing, and she didn’t because she apparently never recovered from the slut shaming she endured at a competition, though the film does show her dancing to Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)”. Bennett accuses Emin of commodifying her trauma and selling her story for money, and while there might be an argument to be made for that, I’m pretty sure this isn’t the way to go about it:
“Can I suggest you
Get fucked
While you lie about child-molesting gropes
And parkbench flashers and pervert creeps
And anal virginity and polaroid snaps
And verbal abuse and bathroom rapes”
And as if that weren’t enough, Bennett tries to make himself look better as well:
“Now that's the difference between me
I'll show you emotional truth
I'll show you the fucking source
I'll show you yet another fucking liar
And this is for the you
I'll show you that something that makes you:
Feel different
Feel special
I'll give you:
Thoughts
Images
Sounds”
Next is “Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel”, which is probably the only Whitehouse song I legitimately love. Bennett roleplays as a sort of evil DJ demanding that clubbers debase themselves and… well, wriggle like fucking eels. Fittingly, this song has the most discernible beat on the entire album; the drums are boosted to their limits, and Bennett shows some surprisingly good breath control for some of his screams. “Philosophy” is mostly just a wave of feedback being slowly modulated whilst Philip Best (or at least I assume it’s Philip Best) seems to take on the role of someone in an abusive relationship being gaslighted. The juxtaposition between the abrasive backing music and the quiet spoken word delivery makes the song all the more terrifying, and it shows a sort of restraint that at the time I wasn’t aware Whitehouse were capable of.
The title track “Bird Seed”, a collage of interviews of rape victims compiled by Peter Sotos, never fails to piss me off. Whitehouse had already done this at least twice on their last two albums,
Cruise and
Mummy & Daddy, and I truly have no idea why their fans haven’t taken Whitehouse, or rather just Sotos, to task for it. I fail to see how this constitutes anything other than a breach of privacy; the interviewees must’ve received some rather personal questions, because they reveal some of the most private details of those fateful traumatic incidents. Say what you will about that edgelord Bennett, but at least he gives me the impression that he never meant to harm anyone, though he somehow strikes me as the sort of person to not care if his music has that effect. On the other hand, Sotos, as far as I can tell, was legitimately fascinated by the subject matter, which led to those godforsaken collages. I dread to think what might happen if those interviewees find out that some edgy tryhards found those recordings about the most painful and private moments of their lives for the sake of “art”, which raises some questions, namely what the hell is the intent of the collages, and also who are Whitehouse fans? What are Whitehouse fans? Why are Whitehouse fans?
“Cut Hands Has the Solution” is easily the most unnerving song on this album for me. It appears to me a reversal of “Philosophy”; rather than strangely soft vocals against a wall of feedback, this time it’s a simple drum beat that soundtracks Bennett shouting a narrative of dissociation and finding solace in self-harm. While it’s certainly a vital track in that the presence of hand percussion would become more prominent in their later albums and seen to its logical conclusion on their final album
Racket, it’d probably be more effective if the vocals were as restrained as the music. Finally there’s “Munkisi Munkondi”, whose lyrics are in Shona, at least if the word of Rateyourmusic is to be believed; it’s a simple loop of feedback against a vague beat that only gets louder and more distorted, and a strange but effective final statement.
I find
Bird Seed to be all over the place in quality; at its worst it’s as odious as some of their worst albums, and at its best it’s legitimately unnerving in a way that doesn’t make me feel guilty and surprisingly measured for Whitehouse. Considering that it is Whitehouse, it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse; the highs are really high, the lows were completely expected, because expecting Whitehouse to cover the subject of sexual violence with maturity is utterly futile. I’m fairly new to noise music, but I’ve listened to just enough to opine that there is far better noise music out there. If you’re at all interested in that niche of noise that’s apparently called power electronics, however, then it might be worth it only for the historical context. It’s not always unsettling for the right reasons, but at least Whitehouse made the album they wanted to. If you’ve gotten this far in the Whitehouse discography and somehow liked what you heard then you’ll most likely find
Bird Seed worthwhile, and if you don’t then you’re probably wondering why I’d hurt myself like this again.
Favourite tracks: "Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel", "Munkisi Monkondi"
Least favourite Track: "Bird Seed"
