The White Mice — Ganjahovahdose

Does humor belong in music? So Frank Zappa, back in the 80s, put into words a question which had plagued music fans since the dawn of, well, music, though it seems that Zappa himself had already figured it out, and the question was no more than rhetorical for him. Zappa’s music, roughly classifiable as 50% avant-garde, 50% rock and 50% comedy, adding to up to a nonsensical 150% awesome, never shied away from humor. Yet the self-proclaimed serious music fan still finds the combination of music and humor risky. Sure, it’s been done, done well, too; yet this kind of combination usually runs the risk of being too cheesy, too kitschy, and even if it is musically enjoyable, the tongue-in-cheek approach seems to devalue, for the listeners, whatever musical value there is indeed to be found.

White Mice, however, don’t need to think twice about whether or not humor belongs in music. The rodent masked trio are a self-described pun obsessed, toilet-humored bunch, and their latest full-length Ganjahovahdose is yet another addition to their moronically comically catalogue. Now, as much as White Mice love awful comedy stylings in music, I’m personally not quite sure what to think, and as I thumb through the booklet I actually fear quite the worst. It’s filled to the brim with wacky collages and completely out-there textual parodies of Biblical passages, all more or less relating to the album’s theme, which seems to have been born out of some huge drug trip; it’s impossible to summarize accurately in a review of a 600 words, but roughly it’s a reinterpretation of the Old Testament, except it’s filled to the brim with mice, cheese, drugs and toilet humor. Which may actually be an improvement of sorts.

Insofar as the prepubescent sense of comedy seems to suggest anything about White Mice’s musical qualities, I can safely say these two are actually inversely related. That is not to say that this is highly sophisticated; what it means is that Ganjahovahdose is, simply, a seriously brutal and excellent record that is definitely enjoyable beyond a few good laughs. White Mice, on this album at least, play a brand of heavy, sludgy noiserock that simply begs to be played at the loudest volume possible; gorgeous low rumbles combined with guttural screams are supported by hugely intense and energetic drum work. The resulting sound is a distorted and crunchy bunch; for anyone to whom labels such as Load and 20 Buck Spin, and bands such as Godflesh or Lightning Bolt, mean anything, Ganjahovahdose is thus highly recommended.

The record’s main strengths are, easily, the filthy sound and the driving rhythms. They alone will already satisfy the average noise rock nut. At just over half an hour, Ganjahovahdose is an album you’ll quickly put on repeat just to make sure you get your proper daily dose of musical adrenalin. Minor weaknesses are the record’s slightly simplistic straightforwardness (despite the intensity, there’s little complexity, and comparisons with, for instance, Lightning Bolt, therefore need to be seen in that light) and the somewhat interchangeable songs. To speak of anything like a song – a term which suggests soothing melodies, verses, bridges, choruses, that sort of thing – in a noise rock context may seem slightly out of place, but any band that goes to the trouble of indexing the material and giving each individual bit a title (some highlights: “The Hard On of Edam”, “The Crapture” and my personal favorite “The Apa-Caca-Lips”) seems concerned about songs, in the end, and so the criticism is justified.

However, these critical remarks hardly make me think any less of Ganjahovahdose; at its core, it’s an exhilarating and intense album that warrants repeated plays. Does humor belong in music, then? Well, I’m still not sure, but I’m willing to make an exception for White Mice.