This is a review of "Untitled" recorded by Whitehouse Blues. The review was written by Sam Saunders in 2001.
This is chilled nearly-dance music with some real and some ambient stuff mixing up a loving recreation of someone's Summer of love on a gentle acid come down some years ago. It's sweet and it grooves. It lets you get on with what you're doing and it doesn't intrude. It's fine stuff. Fluffy clouds and so on.
The three tracks together mess up my sense of direction and time pretty perfectly. Is my CD player skipping about or are these episodes of solo acoustic and great wafts of female vocals separate tracks? It is very hard to concentrate on music that seems determined to be a background to someone else's main event. All the tunes blend into one. Each one has sections and scenes from half remembered dreams. They work, but they leave you where you were. A bit confused, but more blissful. What were those people doing in the cafeteria? Is it still Thursday? When did the kids get in here? Can you OD on deja vu?
The real drum kit is the hard centre when it turns up. Keyboards voices and samples float about like indolent dragonflies on a warm evening.
Whitehouse Blues are making their own world. Get over there sometime and get mellow.