May I Suggest You (Watch Out Adele)

Whitehouse has always been ... interesting.  It pretty much embodies the sound of a insanity.


A friend of mine once said that listening to Whitehouse made him think people were after him.  I laughed at that and told him that was the point.  Whitehouse is the sound of someone after you.  It's that hand you feel on your shoulder at 3 a.m. as you struggle to get the keys in the door, a little too much to drink.  That hand makes you piss a little bit.  That is Whitehouse.

Of course, the band has had its share of controversy.  (Peter Sotos was a member for a time, so how could it be anything but controversial?)  I think the controversy wouldn't be there if the music sounded ... different.  It rubs people the exact wrong way. Put it on in the car at night, driving around looking at the people walking the streets, and suddenly you get it.  This is what will play when some stalker does in Adele.


Whitehouse isn't content to just present the filth.  It absolutely wallows in it.  Not like a pig, but like a hungry worm with teeth.  And that worm eventually finds its way into your brain.

It's not a band that will get air time or ever find its way onto a Disney cruise.  It exists solely to make you uncomfortable, and I have to admit that makes me quite fond of it.

Thank you, Whitehouse, for existing in a world of country crooners, hip hop stars who want to be pampered Beverly Hills housewives, and pointless pop stars who couldn't create music without a fucking committee.  Thank you for the soundtrack to the madness.  You may (thankfully) never win a Grammy, but hard work is really its own reward, right?  You bet.  Let's bring back the awful and do away with the offal.