It may well be that in a few years time, when the current musical climate comes to be surveyed for posterity , it will be seen as chiefly characterized by the endless parade of bands reforming. Whether originally gracing stages in the 60s, 70s, 80s, or 90s, it seems that few of these defunct-but-still-twitching old favorites have been able to resist the lure of cranking themselves up for one last shimmy.

Usually their reformed gait is that of an embarrassing old relation at a wedding: disingenuous and slightly pathetic (Iggy Pop, stand up); and the reason for this is that most have reformed solely in the noble hope of transforming well-worn tunes and worn-stale memories into money.

The same couldn’t be said for Seefeel. Originally formed in London in 1992 and aligned at the time with shoegaze bands like Slowdive, Curve, and My Bloody Valentine, Seefeel were more experimentally inclined than their peers (apart from My Bloody Valentine), and stood out in main through their embrace of abstract electronic music, which saw them eventually sign to Warp Records, releasing a couple of albums there before breaking up in 1996.

Now they have reformed, and earlier this year an eponymous new album appeared on Warp. Where many would have expected a familiar retread of the lush shoegaze fabrics of yore, Seefeel represented something more abrasive and more interesting, an excellent return in a less-than-familiar guise (bemoaned in almost comic fashion in the miscomprehending Pitchfork review).

Part of the impetus for this move away from their previous production values was doubtless down to the technical savvy and sense of adventure of main man Mark Clifford, who continues to explore his musical ideas in whatever new media is available. Part, too, though, is doubtless down to a change in band personnel: new on drums, Iida Kazuhisa, ex-of The Boredoms; and new on bass, Shigeru Ishihara, better known to most of us as DJ Scotch Egg. The two new members are seasoned experimental musicians, and the resulting brew on the album makes for a scorched palette.

Saturday’s visit to the Button Factory was, as far as I’m aware, Seefeel’s first visit to these shores. Balking the view that this music is marginal and rarified, or else attesting to there being an audience in Dublin for marginal and rarefied music, a sizeable group of people turned out for the show.

The band drifted into action with the crushing ‘Dead Guitars’ off the new album. Drone guitars along with the wordless vocals of Sarah Peacock sifted through a funereally slow hip-hop beat, swell of noise bursting through the mix like the sea onto the shore. Here, as at other times on the night, the segue into the next tune comprised a mini drama all of its own, feedback swirls seeking out a direction in which to proceed.

‘Rip Run’ shifted into view in an oblique interlocking of bass and drums. You got the impression as you absorbed Seefeel’s sound that song form here was not so much the point: the songs only existed in order that their composite sounds might gush out and spill all over the limits of the songs’ borders.

The two new additions to the group made a favorable impression. Throughout the night, the ethereal, abstract meanderings of Clifford on guitar and laptop and of Peacock on guitar and processed vocals (auto-harmonized, pitch-shifted, and delayed) were anchored by an adamantine-strong rhythm section, the lock of their cyclic grooves always complimenting the guitar and feedback loops draped over.

Another area where the new additions were welcome was stage presence. Though he isn’t the main player, Scotch Egg is here the main stage presence, and maybe even the de facto live front man. Goading the audience, he strode across the stage, slinging his bass up and down in animation to the music, while the reserved and staidly-dressed Clifford looked on from the shadows behind his desk (which featured a ubiquitous Mac Book).

The set held one’s attention throughout, but its two highlights came towards the end. On the munchkin-vocaled ‘Faults’, Peacock’s chant bounced a comforting folk song around a reliquary of industrial bass swells. And on ‘Fracture’ the band revisited a favorite from the early 90s, sampled drum loops cumulatively building up alongside the instruments to slowly draw the blood to one’s head.

Despite a lengthy applause at the end, the band didn’t come back out for an encore, and their set for the night clocked in at just an hour. But it was more than enough to invigorate the senses.