Current 93
Hypnagogue I / Hypnagogue II

From the cult of Aleister Crowley's doctrines, through the naive and childlike Satanism of "Swastikas for Goddy," biblical quotes in "Imperium," and theological speculations in "Christ and the Pale Queens Mighty in Sorrow," to the spiritual struggles endured in "Of Ruine or Some Blazing Starre."
Then the Light, the "Inmost Light" trilogy, the battle against shadows. The blurring and progressive fading of the ancient hellish fumes, up to the unresolved existential fragility of "Soft Black Stars": the entire artistic journey of Current 93 is in reality a turbulent journey through the inner life of David Tibet, through his witticisms, the contortions of his thoughts, the evolution of his beliefs about life, death, the meaning of man's existence in this world.

With "Hypnagogue," a new and important step is taken in the existential definition of the artist: "Hypnagogue" is the definitive arrival at the Christian God ("God is Love" state the sparse notes in the inner booklet) and right from the cover, which captures the beauty of a blossoming almond tree, the moods and fragrance of a true springtime of the soul emerge.
The forms and means of this rejuvenation, however, remain unknown to us, given the transfiguring power of David Tibet's poetic mind: renaming himself David Michael for this occasion (to emphasize the beginning of a new artistic phase and to make a clean break with past unforgivable heresies), Tibet continues, in fact, to speak to us of cats, Christ, horses, children, the Alpha, the Omega, Death, Apocalypse, and all those images and figures that have always populated his inner world.

"Hypnagogue: A Dream Prologue" is a long and complex piece written between 2002 and 2003 (nine sections in total), conceived as a prologue for an upcoming album, but which would not find actual realization. In 2003, this EP was thus released, capturing Tibet's reading of the piece live, accompanied by Maya Elliott's piano improvisations. Ever more lost in the abyss of his existential struggles, and much less concerned with formal aspects, Tibet thus delivers his most essential work: a piece where the sole evocative power of his words dominates.

The expression "Hypnagogue" aptly conveys the dominant moods of this work, midway between a sermon and a hypnosis session: Tibet's words drift through the air, musical, hypnotic, magnetic, reverberated as if under the sacred vaults of a mental cathedral, outside of time and space. Their echoes in the void are, nonetheless, the new expression of the esoteric component that has always characterized the Current: with ironclad conceptual and stylistic coherence, the reduction operation that began with "Soft Black Stars" (and pursued in later albums, particularly with "Sleep Has His House" and "Bright Yellow Moon") proceeds unrelentingly (scaring, frankly, more than one fan, including myself, worried about a disturbing minimalist drift - fears later dispelled by the beautiful "Black Ships Ate the Sky" of 2006, a welcome return to folk sounds).

"Hypnagogue I/Hypnagogue II," published in 2005, includes, in addition to the EP "Hypnagogue: A Dream Prologue," another version of the same experience. Two long tracks, then, separated by five minutes of silence: a pause that rightly highlights the temporal space between one recording and the other, reminding us that the two experiences do not form a single, sequential journey, but constitute different manifestations of the same artistic impetus.

"Hypnagogue II," recorded in 2005, features the accompaniment of Michael Masley, handling a "bowhammer cymbalom," a sort of indefinable instrument that to the untrained ear will sound like something between a harp, an acoustic guitar, an Indian sitar, and a violin. Masley's improvisations turn out to be phenomenal and are capable of creating, over a total of 25 minutes of dreamlike ecstasy, a spiritual, ascetic, apocalyptic dimension (and how could it be otherwise!) in which Tibet's vocal evolutions/involutions fit perfectly.

In "Hypnagogue I," the original 2003 version, Elliott's crystalline and clear piano takes us back to the melancholies of "Soft Black Stars"; her touch, light, elegant, vaguely indebted to Debussy's flair, underscores the intensity of the most significant passages of Tibet's monologue, emphasizing the evocative power of his words. For his part, Tibet's theatrical interpretation can capture the listener, abduct them, lead them to that piece of the Divine that we all carry within ("The Inmost Light"), that portion of the Universal ("The Great in the Small") that makes us part of the great soul of the universe, of God's infinite love. Personally, this version manages to be even better than the other, which was already not bad at all. Not only because of Tibet's interpretation (less sly and more dynamic, urgent, full of surges), but also and especially because of the special alchemy created between the two artists.

Let's get to the point. Evaluating a discussion of this kind obviously proves difficult. If we consider the entire discographic/philosophical journey of Tibet, there is no doubt that "Hypnagogue" represents a fundamental stage, a pivotal moment, a true point of arrival: the verses contained here are probably among the most beautiful and heartfelt ever, in some respects representing the most evolved form of David Tibet's poetic art. For this reason alone, "Hypnagogue" deserves the highest rating.
From a formal point of view, however, it is fair to say that sparse poetry over a backdrop of musical improvisations does not itself constitute anything particularly extraordinary. The excessively hermetic form of this new incarnation of the Current can nonetheless create serious problems for those unused to such sonorities (in this sense, to facilitate and make listening more meaningful, it's advisable to download the lyrics from the band's website).

What is extraordinary, however, is the pathos created by Tibet's interpretation, the poetic thread that links the images, the emotional impetus, the sincerity, the expressive strength, the "experiential" value of the work as a whole. This, we know, is, however, the exclusive advantage of those who love the artist in question, and there are not many, unfortunately. For everyone else, these two versions of "Hypnagogue" will sound, I fear, like an annoying dribble of words.

No rating, therefore, this time. However, I want to specify that for me this is a wonderful work and that this is music that should not be listened to with just the ears, but experienced with the entirety of one's being, in-depth, with attention and even a pinch of devotion.

Let yourself be hypnotized...