White Mice Ganjahovahdose

[20 Buck Spin; 2009]

Styles: noise rock, hardcore, industrial, black metal
Others: Brainbombs, Gwar, Locust, Godflesh, Butthole Surfers

Aside from the fact that White Mice are now seasoned noise rock pros with a perversely polished, fleshed-out, well-developed idea and sound, it's hard to figure out why their stagnancy works. Sonically, there are indications of only a modicum of exploration and development, detectable only to the most devoted Mice fans. Visually, little has changed. Indeed, White Mice are the same demented, mutated, twisted mice in bloody lab coats with strobe lights and seriously ear-damaging sludge -- and their latest, Ganjahovahdose, is yet another homage to 16-year-old poo-soaked, weed-smoking Satanic genius, albeit the most moronic genius to inhabit the tiny corner of the underground that these Mice have so convincingly burrowed in too deep. So, unless you are paying really close attention and hoping for some kind of revelation, you are in for a return to White Mice's familiar excretions, gimmicks, and antics.

It is nonetheless essential to note that, as singular as White Mice's vision is, this is a wholesale and inimitably perfect example of how beautifully fucked up it can be. Never have I seen liner notes with such intricately developed subversives, a holy grail of everything foul, evil, and fucked up. Take heed, for the Mice sayeth, "Wee know, from the Apoocrypha books, Cheesus will survive the cumming Ass Judgement, butt, alass, this Mold Penisttateuch dockturine became on itself, hairrelevent, after the Nude Covenant with Cheesus Micet was established in cummunionion at the Assst Suffer." If it were possible, I'd snap my fingers and convert every single Chick Publications pamphlet in every telephone booth in America to the liner notes from Ganjahovahdose -- and then run like hell. Instead, I can hold onto this CD and be secure in the knowledge that, the next time I get high and need to scrub out the vomit-encrusted toilet of life, this CD will offer the most vile soundtrack imaginable.

There are many touches here that create a full experience. The little snippets of B-movie dialogue (at least that's what it sounds like) hold the album together, creating segues between the tracks that help keep the effect overwhelming. The vocals are thick and dank, like the darkest, foulest stool left on the floor of the Coney Island-Stillwell Station bathroom. There are double kick drums to pound your brain, some bass sludge with no regard for polite society, and oscillators that soar like the ashy white of albatross feces. The majority of these tracks blend industrial drone with the psychotic electronic textures provided by the oscillators, creating a dismal vibe that perfectly counters the anaerobic melodies provided by the bass, which is tuned to sound like a cum-encrusted guitar.

It's a pretty quick affair, only about half an hour worth of hemorrhage, which is an ideal amount of White Mice to let you get the idea, complete the whole experience, and then get on with your plans to replace John the Baptist's head with a giant pile of bloody entrails. The tracks wind down and devolve into demonic tributes to deviance and disrespect, and it's all executed with precision and a remarkable degree of clarity. Despite the fact that they are destroying sound as they create it, White Mice are able to create convincing messages, even if each message is essentially the same. Smoke Weed. Disrespect God and Jesus. Distort your World. Revel in Gore. Delight in Shit. Piss on Yourself and Everyone You Know. Come on y'all, the guys in the mouse heads are doing it, why shouldn't you????????

3. the HARD ON of EDAM
8. the Shroud of Urine

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