New Bob

Rarer now that it used to be, natch, but still occassionally these days musical releases demand that I dig out & stick on me selkieyebirdarsegoggles, surgically implant speakers directly into the aural synapses, and leap around the room for moosikal joy like a certifiable, strategically-shaved, contactgelled, and consquently electrocuted polecat.

Uncle Bob's Body of Song fits the bill.