New Bobby Would once again courtesy of the in-form Digital Regress and with it more of that characteristic somber psychedelia we've come to rely on the man for. The notes that accompany the record, penned by none other than Cindy's Karina Gill, have done such a fine job in understanding Relics of Our Life I'm struggling to resist just re-printing them here. Smart as I am, I'll instead choose to paraphrase and take half the credit. Mr Would shares a great deal of DNA with the Flying Nun greats - the whimsical jangle and drone of The Great Unwashed; Robert Scott's easy melodicism; the longing of Sneaky Feelings - though now four or so albums in, what you're hearing is nothing so much as his own very distinct voice. It's not that Bobby Would albums sound alike per se (or if they do, then that's not the point), more that there's a very clear sense of aesthetic being worked at, an immediately recognisable kind of pop-writing that unites jangle, drone and murk in a foggy glow. If this were from San Francisco, I'd be happy to list alongside the 'Fog Pop' purveyors of that area (and I'm sure it's no coincidence that Gill was invited to lend her insight to the music), though I do think there's also a more obviously darkened European feeling to these ten tracks, particularly in the record's second half (that is until you get to the 'Red, Red Wine' cover that closes affairs and lifts the spirit) where we could be cut adrift in gloom of the Berlin night and, strangely enough, had me thinking of Dirty Beaches Love Is The Devil were it a little more love than devil. Best yet from Bob? Maybe, maybe not, but either way, the purgatory pop train keeps rolling.