Let's begin with a shocking revelation. I had to delve deep into the complex belly of the internet just to make sure that using the term 'constant flux' when referring to a musician's work ethos and repertoire wasn't my way of accusing them for having some sort of medical condition.

Bibio is Stephen Wilkinson's musical offering and a continuous shape shifting one at that. Perhaps then it's safe to assume that any/every creative process should essentially be infinite and in constant state of flux. What sets him apart is the continuity of being an utterly talented and retrospective producer who never fails to explore and expand his own artistic diversity. After joining Warp in 2009, Bibio is clearly humbled by his ability to make a living solely off music and is not 'precious' about his art enough to think that once a song is penned - it's finished for good. Like a cure to a symptom, an unquenchable thirst as he so perfectly calls it, he consistently compliments archived pieces by revisiting/creating entire EP's around them. The latest offering, The Green, uses the strength off of one protagonist song to create an entirely new musical conversation.

However, you might think that an experimental electronic talent like Bibio releasing an EP not even one year after his seventh album Silver Wilkinson came out - was a little unusual. You might therefore assume that there was an alternate reason for such a constant outpouring of sounds from one man. You might even recklessly suppose that it was to keep him top of mind (as if he ever left) in the industry. Whilst these thoughts seem like a natural observation, it's simply that there are no starts and stops for him. Unlike many other bands, he explains that "the album is a chunk of what I want the public to hear at that point in time, but the music I release is the top of the iceberg in terms of what I have in my archives." What should strike us across his sea of music, are the elements brewing underneath the surface.

It's no wonder then that his music always feels so brutally intimate - he's constantly evolving, reshaping and sharing his world of music without operating in typical boundaries bands conform to. The monotonous 'release album/tour album" de facto doesn't carry a chord here. To say this process is unappealing for him would be a highly bloated nullifier to his craft, just compare the number of his live appearances versus his album releases. He's a solo recording artist who prefers the studio as opposed to the stage, a solo recording artist who feels as foreign to taking a break, as a 24-hour news channel would feel. "I've lost view of the boundary between work and leisure, making the constant flux more of a reality for me" says Bibio.

So the music and the behind the scenes should intrigue his listeners, equally. I felt myself descending into a realm of unfettered fan-lunacy after hearing he prefers chatting via email and landed awkwardly after I received his responses. Qualitatively and quantitatively he says a lot and his 'story' certainly adds up. He wields his words with the conviction of a social extrovert, a well-versed public performer. Hell, he even makes a dinghy sound poetic.

In the case of fluxes for Bibio he's made a swift ascent of the creative process tower. This is a musician who sees a contrast between songs like complementary colours do. To properly appreciate this, we have to take the integral motive of his 'flux' from every element of his career. At no point does he feel like a bot either - "I've accepted, psychologically speaking, that I'm an introvert who prefers small groups of friends over crowds, a walk in the countryside over a day in the city, a chat around a table in a pub over being in a club full of sweaty strangers and flashing coloured lights." He shares some beautiful memories, his way of capturing 'dreams' and tells me that the feeling of reading someone's positive comments about his music is comparable to finding out that your message in a bottle was not only found, but also found by the 'right' person.

Oh, and the largest number of people he's ever sung in front of is 7 - in a mate's shed.

Within the experimental way you treat and affect sounds there's this word "oneiric" (of, relating to/suggestive of dreams) that feels relevant - your music implores a sense of wonder and nostalgia. How much involvement do you want to have in conjuring up a narrative for your listeners?

Part of the selecting process, I guess, is choosing songs that take me somewhere in my mind. With 'Dye the Water green' [the song The Green is based from] I get the same images when I listen to it every time, but like dreams, they are not vivid/detailed like a photograph or a film. Any recollection or realisation of dreams is always lacking in information - I guess that's why dream sequences in films are often depicted in black and white or with soft focus or a vignette, it's a film-maker's device that people can relate to, dividing high-definition reality and half-remembered dreams. I wanted to try and realise the types of images I had with that song in the music video I made with Michael Robinson and it felt like a success. I'm not claiming I have translated my dreams exactly into a moving picture, but I certainly feel like we captured the essence of them.

Over the years you've built up a brilliant armory of equipment - did you use anything new/in a new way for this EP?

Well considering the tracks on this EP span from 2006 to 2013, then yes! I still value the gear and methods I used in those early days as they're a big part of who I am as a producer, but I'm also curious about sound and technology, an unquenchable thirst really, so I always want to try out some new gear. Right now I have too much gear for the size of my room, so sometimes I feel the urge to escape and sit in my living room or garden with just a few bits of kit. It's nice to have the gear on hand when you want it, but surrounding yourself with too much gear can also be distracting, especially if you find you can achieve something beautiful with just a loop pedal and a guitar. I'm hoping to get a bigger place soon and I think that will affect the way I work in a positive way.

Some titles on the EP are somber, darker and more conceptual; 'Dinghy', 'The Spinney View Of Hinkley Point', 'Dye The Water Green'. What do these intend to tell us?

'Dinghy' is a reference to one of the most cherished moments in my life. Me and some mates camped by a river in Wales many years ago and we bought a rubber dinghy, the river was covered in a tunnel of trees, the light poured through in golden-green beams and it was the most picturesque thing I've ever seen. A photograph couldn't do it justice - you had to be there. The sadness in that song is really the loss or longing of that time, that's what nostalgia is. Nostalgia is personal and not to be confused with retro. Lately a new nostalgia has taken over for me, I'm now longing for my first student house in 2000/2001, which was a magical time of discovery.

I recorded 'The Spinney View of Hinkley Point' in my mate's shed in rural Somerset. The title is a reference to a very specific, lonely and wild place down there with dramatic panoramic views - the music just seemed to be that.

Is there a particular sound/timbre on the EP that you're most excited by and how did you make it?

The air raid siren type sound in 'Dye The Water Green' was an experiment I made with a tape recorder and a test tone. I got an old 80s cassette recorder and removed the erase head from it so I could record over previous recordings without erasing them first. I put in one of those endless cassettes that are used for answering machines. I first tried this simple set up with a Rhodes electric piano expecting to get a simple 'sound-on-sound' effect. As the loop goes round and round I expected the piano to simply overdub on top of itself, but instead I got this strange gargling distorted sound. This is because with each new layer of the piano, the source sound was effectively rearranging the magnetic information on the tape, modulating what was recorded before, rather than simply layering on top.

I then tried the same process with a simple sine tone from a test oscillator and the result was this thicker haunting drone. It was as if I'd captured something hidden, like how some people think cameras can photograph ghosts - so this drone was called 'Sine Ghosts'.

Being in nature unspools us from civilization (can shift mood, melt away anxiety etc.) and visually and artistically your anecdotes so wonderfully explore the concepts of nature. In of itself, music can have the same affect. What's your relationship with music and nature?

I've lived my whole life in suburbs, both in the midlands and London. I couldn't live in a place without trees, it's not just the trees themselves that are beautiful but the shadows they cast and the sound of them in the wind - it's hard to hear that over constant traffic noise. When I was a small child my dad bought a caravan and we used to go to mid Wales on a regular basis. I guess that introduction at an early age shaped me as a person. I've accepted, psychologically speaking, that I'm an introvert who prefers small groups of friends over crowds, a walk in the countryside over a day in the city, a chat around a table in a pub over being in a club full of sweaty strangers and flashing coloured lights.

Visually, I get inspired by simple things like the way sunshine comes through my blinds and casts shadows on the wall, these types of things can sometimes trigger profound feelings about one's existence. This is something I also try to do in my music and I know that some people pick up on this because I've read their comments - it's those kind of comments I cherish, as it's like finding out your message in a bottle was not only found, but found by the 'right' person. In crowded cities I feel surrounded by too much of humanity's latest fads and preoccupations and not enough by the ancient, harmonious things that we 'grew up' with, evolutionarily speaking. Beauty is extremely important to me, but also quietness. I can't stand being immersed in other people's noise.

As for the relationship with music, I guess you can draw parallels between natural/organic environments and certain sonic textures. Nature tends to be more wiggly and bumpy, where urbanity is blocky and smoothed out. I'm inspired by music itself regardless of where it was made. If anything I'm probably more into urban music. People think I love folk music but I really don't. I like The Incredible String Band & Nick Drake. I love a lot of Brazilian music, which is often very acoustic and jangly, but for me folk music is generally twee and not very deep.

Of course, multi-dimensional and multi-instrumental music is naturally difficult to translate live - the obvious route would be to put a live band together. What's appealing about the recording process over Bibio as a live entity?

It's a hard one and in truth I don't see myself as a performer. There is this expectation that if you are a musician you are therefore a performer. A writer is not expected to be an actor, nor is a film director, or a sound designer. I have more in common with those roles than I do with a stage performer. The largest number of people I've ever sung my songs in front of is 7 (in my mate's shed) - that was a challenge. People keep reminding me that I can get over that anxiety with practice (or exposure therapy I guess) but there's little incentive for me to do that because it's not my desire! When I tell people this they sometimes think that it's strange, but personally I find that reaction strange and kind of demanding/intrusive.

Live music is not even a part of my life anymore, I never go to shows or concerts anymore, I did when I was a teenager as I was into metal bands and I enjoyed it back then. I can't get lost in music in a huge hall or club full of people and flashing lights and all of those other clichés. I have started DJing again though, partly to get me out of the house and out of my comfort zone and to see other places and meet other people. I enjoy playing the music to a crowd more than being in that crowd.

The rate at which you're composing, recording and releasing music is overwhelmingly fast, if anything it's awe-inspiring and more artists should share this work ethic. So what are you working on at the moment?

I guess many artists and bands tour a lot and have less studio time. Other artists have day jobs, as I did myself until Warp picked me up. I have a lot of time for creating and I'm actually less prolific than I used to be because I spread it more thinly. My day-to-day life has things in it that weren't there before, so I have more distractions and chores to deal with. I don't have a manager so I have to deal with everything myself. This is my choice though, I'm very precious about my art and don't want another cook spoiling the broth. I'm wary of managers.

I have a few things on the go at the moment. I'm working on a new album right now, but that's always the case - my albums overlap. It's going in a more pop/soul/disco direction at the moment but will probably end up eclectic like Ambivalence Avenue and Mind Bokeh.

We shall see, not knowing what I might come up with in the future excites me.

Bibio is mostly concerned with the process and connection his music makes on those listening in. An artist wanting full control, enough of it to dictate when, where and how he loses it to create. The social dimension of this seemingly private and hermetic style of musical production isn't unnecessarily disconnected, but simply personal preference. Although not a one-dimensionally somber EP, The Green is but another floatation device for change, his very own dinghy wading through monotonous gunck in order to deliver a unique musical message at any given time.

The Green EP is available now via Warp Records