Much like Alex Chilton of Big Star, Eitzel's solo work is impossible to pigeonhole. You're never sure what you're going to get - save that everything that Eitzel puts his name to has the kite mark of quality songwriting.

Candy Ass picks up the baton from 2001's Invisible Man. Equipped with a laptop, his guitar and a copy of Pro Tools, Eitzel set about filtering his songs through his love of abstract electronica. This is less the spineless clubfriendly beats and guitars of Dido or Everything But The Girl, more the liquid mercury of Aphex Twin or Oval. It carries a greater depth of sound, more rough edges and dirty beats, than the recent Bob Mould explorations into similar territory.

On Make Sure They Hear, the foray into the murky world of electronic textures makes perfect sense. The drum loops, subterranean bass and phased string tones coalesce into a throbbing sonic backdrop. It recalls the bruised and pithy work of My Computer or Junior Boys. The track's dynamics are brilliantly executed. The whispered vocal rises, as the bubbling electronics riefly fade out. Lost in the void his voice charged with emotion as he sings "The day will rise, the sun will come". The beat drops back in. It's the kind of climax that pulses through house music. Here it is stripped bare, reduced to its neutrons and electrons. In its crackle and whine you can glimpse the frayed cables of his robot heart.

The harsh, bright metallic sounds of fellow San Franciscans Matmos sputter through the electronic tracks. Clicks, cuts and digital scree that sound like the brakes on a tube train slammed on hard vibrate across the backdrops. It's a treble heavy sound. A swirling mist of high-end hiss and the micro slicing and dicing of beats.

It works beautifully on Homeland Pastoral. A hymn composed by cyber ghosts punching numbers into damaged mobile phones. His ode to cult German film maker Rainer Werner Fassbinder slips along the same binary highway. Of the electronic material the strongest track is A Loving Tribute to My City. A synthetic, rumbling backdrop thuds and drones. The melody oxidized sliver. A child's voice weaves low in the mix adding sweet counter point. The dubby bass and drums evoke a wistful mood would allow it to sit comfortable on a Boards of Canada release. It's The Orb's Little Fluffy Clouds, refracted through a winter fog.

Not all the songs are adventures inside the digital sphere. Green Eyes is a partial collaboration with Calexico and their track Praskovia. Electronic textures are pitched against a rumbling lounge bar piano. The programmed beat starts as simple dumb and rocking as The Ramones before it slowly twists itself into a thumping disco monster. About half way through the brass arrives, adding warmth and a little swing .

Green Eyes acts as a musical portal between the more electronic tracks and the softer sounding acoustic based numbers. Sleeping Beauty, St Michael My Pet Rat and Roll Away My Stone prove once again that Eitzel is pretty much peerless when it comes to sketching out the thin line between love and ruin. His voice carries in it the sound of a thousand lonely lives. The lyrics are as honest and unforgiving as the last rites. They are hopeful and aching, not relentlessly grim, but they're focused and sharp and pull no punches.

There is much to admire here, and much to cherish. Candy Ass may baffle some long-term fans; it may also draw in some from the electronic fringes. Long may Mark Eitzel remain wired and willing to push the boundaries of his musical skills. A restless stranger maybe, but a candy ass he is not.

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