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True to the Velvets reference of their name, local duo WHITE/LIGHT use drones, feedback, and fuguelike repetition to create haunting, ominous long-form structures. Keyboardist-engineer Jeremy Lemos and guitarist Matthew Clark released their self-titled debut on local label Rebis Records in 2005: it’s 50 minutes of disembodied reverberations and deep tectonic shivers that you experience as much with the follicles and gut as with the ears. (Each track is named for its running time, the majestic centerpiece being “28:43.”) This past spring they teamed up with Robert Lowe (of 90 Day Men and solo group Lichens) for White/Lichens, released by the prominent doom/drone/psych label Holy Mountain. The wide-ranging results encompass ethno-ambient trance (“Stolas, or Stolos”), mountain-of-amps guitar scree (“Belial”), and howling, silvery soundscapes reminiscent of Xenakis’s electronic work (“Amdusia, or Amdukias”) before coming to a cathartic close with “Bael”—a brutal 16-minute electric maelstrom that pays simultaneous tribute to British noise freaks Skullflower and to everybody’s favorite three-headed Goetian archdemon. —J. Niimi When I saw TEITH a month or so back, they took the stage with animal half-masks glued to their faces—a pretty hard-core way for a drone band to cute it up, but welcome, as groaning behemoths of noise can usually stand a little extra charm. Though guitarist Trevor de Brauw plays metal (of sorts) in his main band, Pelican, this side jawn features little shredding; instead, glacially paced, heavily distorted single-note runs and overdriven, plodding keyboards congeal, then burst apart, leaving behind a weird, sizzly stasis. A lo-fi EP they put out, Oak City, doesn’t do justice to the epic live show, which is a bit smoother and more clearly on the Mogwai tip. —Jessica Hopper White/Light headlines, Teith goes second, and Head of Skulls opens. 9 PM, Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, 773-276-3600.

WHITE/LIGHT Matt Clark and Jeremy Lemos come up with seemingly endless variations on guitar drone as White/Light--and though the band's name was inspired by the Velvets' feedback-drenched White Light/White Heat, they also claim as influences Earth 2, Fripp and Eno, and the guitar solo on the title track from Maggot Brain. The drifting, ambient pieces on the duo's self-titled debut on Rebis Records are at once graceful and harrowing, and while they don't adhere to conventional song forms they do develop according to a certain logic. Clark and Lemos layer low-end rumbles, high-frequency sine waves, and lacerating bursts into constellations of sound that reward close listening, and even though the tone of each piece is essentially fixed, the two constantly rejigger details to keep the record full of surprises. On the brief "01:43" an organlike tone oscillates in and out, sounding like a spinning coin coming to rest, while the epic "28:43" is filled with ominous, billowy hums and sharp slashing gestures that slowly grow denser and more claustrophobic. The music has an almost orchestral depth, awash in the sort of resonant glow that comes from a love of sound for its own sake.

--Peter Margasak, Chicago Reader, November 2005

From time to time a friend of mine confronts me with what he calls the limitations of the drone scene and the fact that everything sounds the same. It goes without saying that he’s way off base on this one but as to illustrate this I think I’ll play him White/Light the next time he’s around, because I don’t think I’ve heard as many drone styles present on a single recording in quite some time. The opening '05:57' displays darkly contemplative drone webs while '01:43' is almost inaudible if you don’t turn it up loud. '28:43' is a minimal tone excursion that kicks off with high-end frequencies and sustained drones that slowly shift and eventually build into a storm of sound whistling through a narrow tunnel of claustrophobic beauty. Other tracks maintain the magically resonating damaged soundscapery but at the same time pirouettes into something a whole lot more minimal and surprisingly organic. The last track even has a distant folk feel to it, which comes as a big surprise given the rest of the album. Despite the fact that White/Light covers such a wide range of drone terrain the duo manages to nicely hold things together. It’s a challenging but also very rewarding listening excursion these Chicago residents invite us to attend.

--Mats Gustafson, Broken Face, July 2005