White Noise
An Electric Storm

Between Pink Floyd, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, and Gary Numan: here are the White Noise.

Welcome to the world of frequency devices, sound signal generators, and the first electronic synthesizers. A world that already existed before MIDI technology and before the advent of the synth-pop and electro era of the '80s. We’re talking about 1968, when the album White Noise - An Electric Storm was released by Island Records, which quickly became one of the most sought-after cult vinyl records by collectors and lovers of proto-electronica in the synth-space-rock genre. A couple of years ago, a CD version was released: for those with a heart for these sounds, this album is a must.

White Noise was a project by David Vorhaus, an American who moved to London in the mid-sixties. After a degree in electronic engineering from Northern Polytechnic and a staunch musical study with a double bass (with which he played in a symphony orchestra), Vorhaus began to combine his scientific interest with his musical passion when he discovered the first proto-synthesizers — falling hopelessly in love with them — and thus recorded two tracks with a small Revox, which allowed him the opportunity to meet Chris Blackwell, the guru of Island Records. Blackwell was so fascinated by Vorhaus’s white noise that he immediately asked him to record an album. A check for three thousand pounds allowed him to expand his Kaleidophon Studio in Camden Town, a recording studio full of various gadgets (including the infamous EMS VCS3 synthesizer, one of the very first on the music scene). More than a studio, it seemed like the laboratory of a mad scientist. Along with Delia Derbyshire, his girlfriend, and Brian Hodgson — both highly respected sound engineers from BBC Radio (at that time high technology was exclusive to radio) — they began recording the first tracks of the album. Meticulous, inventive, precise, Vorhaus's work focused on every single note, and it extended over a year until those at Island began to get nervous, pushing for a quick release. Finally, amidst back-and-forth due to Vorhaus's meticulousness, the album was released quietly, without any advertising. In retaliation, Vorhaus never granted interviews nor performed in concert, but word of mouth among enthusiasts helped sell thousands of copies.

The reasons that consecrate An Electric Storm as seminal for electronic music and contemporary synth are various. Firstly, the originality of the musical proposal, oscillating between a sound with a vague medieval flavor and the futurism of the technology used to compose it. Listen, for example, to My Game Of Loving, a composition that reflects the "hippy" sound of the period, upset by technological avant-gardes. For this track, Vorhaus synthetically composed the sounds of an imaginary orgy and after living for a period in a "commune", he combined them with the recording of an actual group encounter in which, it seems, he also participated. Or the epic and symphonic Your Hidden Dreams, whose lyrics were reproduced on the original cover because they were incomprehensible due to the many electro-effects. Or The Black Mass, a galloping synth-jam session that served to conclude the LP at the last minute, recorded in haste during the last day before delivering the master to Island. This track was inspired by Pink Floyd's A Saucerful of Secrets (1968), a fundamental album that also influenced the progenitors of German krautrock.

The most famous track of An Electric Storm is The Visitation. It took a full three months to record. It is to be listened to with the lights off, headphones snug on your head, and due caution. A cacophonic triumph of extravagant experimental sounds... this track is considered one of the heaviest noise-trips of the period.

Five years after the release of this album, Vorhaus recorded another two works under his name for Virgin and a couple more in the '80s for Pulse Label, and he continues to compose soundtracks for films and television (the soundtrack for the BBC TV series Dr. Who is his). Occasionally, he indulges in a live synth-electronic set with a symphonic imprint, in England. Perhaps a bit too little for enthusiasts, but better little if of such high quality.