Back in stock: Experimental/Electronic

Review: Last year, regular collaborators Ian Boddy (a Sunderland-based electronics wizard who founded the ambient-focused DiN imprint years ago) and Erik Wallo (a long-serving Norwegian guitarist primiarly known for his experimental and ambient releases) performed their first joint concert for a decade. It's that performance, where they jammed out extended and much-changed versions of tracks featured on some of their prior studio sets, which forms the basis of their latest full-length, Transmissions. As you'd expect, it's a wonderfully atmospheric and evocative affair that gets the most out of both artists, with highlights including the wonderfully creepy 'Uncharted', the krautrock-style hypnotism of 'Aboena', the icy and ethereal 'Ice Station' and the slow-burn bliss of 'Salvage'.

Review: Moony Tunes is one of five new 12" LPs recently unveiled by David Tibet aka. Current 93, mad witch doctor of the post-80s industrial continuum. An ever-morphing project, Current 93 always implies motifs of apocalyptic folk, dream logic, and esoteric revelations, and this volume, subtitled Preparing To Sleep In Menstrual Night, feels like a whispered dispatch from the edge of sleep and symbol. True to C93's nature, it resists easy description, lullabying eerily through hoveringly attentive drones and spellcasting vocals. Each pressing includes a riso print of Tibet's painting Moony Toons, hand-signed in pencil, thus hand-stamping an album best received as a kind of ritual, and shaped by the occult aurae of Tibet's performances in London and Hastings earlier this year.

Review: As we hapless reviewers make our way through these five new experimental LPs by Current 93, we cannot help but feel increasing torment and terror at the figures portrayed on the front covers of each record: hand-painted by David Tibet himself (the artist has increasingly indulged such formal solo trend-buckings through his own Cashen's Gap imprint in recent years) they appear like sleep paralytic demons or the ghosts of cancelled English folk yore. All the records are apparently ritually connected to a recent string of live appearances between London and Hastings, and Tibet's penchant for demonologic peerage titles such as GreenSleeve Drakon and Gnostic Sketch - blurring a sense of self-referentiality and occult otherworldliness - leave us bewildered and slack-jawed.