Mark E Smith most memorably extolled the virtues of repetition; "All you daughters and sons who are sick of fancy music / we dig repetition / Repetition on the drums and we're never going to lose it / This is the three R's; Repetition, Repetition, Repetition."

David Grellier aka College is a firm believer in the mesmeric capacities of repetition. His adoration of 80s American pop culture, of Madonna, John Carpenter and the endless summer evenings of LA have left him with a sharply engraved image of exactly how he wants his pastiche to appear.

And pastiche it most definitely is. For those whose only experience of College comes from the monumentally successful soundtrack to Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive, listening to Secret Diary will be an excessively comfortable listen. The monosyllabic keyboard of A Real Hero appears on practically every track, slowly grinding away into weightlessness. It is an album that is smugly, self-consciously hip, and doesn't suffer as a result.

Picking out individual tracks is probably unnecessary. Three of the tracks begin in precisely the same way as College's most famous song, while none of the others could be confused for any other current artist. In lieu of much in the way of a human voice, or even the novelty-centric commitment to house or techno progressions, Grellier has three ideas. 1. Analogue Keyboard / Motoric Beat Song. 2. Analog Keyboard Ambient Song. 3. Analog Keyboard / Motoric Beat Song With Vocals. Like picking out exactly what shade of black Armani sunglasses you think would fit nicely with your Stingray convertible and cocaine habit, removing the delirious noise of choice works to sharpen the mind. As Jeff Goldblum says in The Fly, Einstein only had one choice of shirt and pants in dizzying numbers. That way he didn't have to waste time thinking about what to wear.

There are occasionally slight diversions from the blueprint. 'Something Wrong Tonight' has a wonkiness suggestive of a chemically-induced head rush. 'She Never Came Back' is nicely Indie Pop within its solidly College-like pattern, and contains a surfeit of structure than must have given its writer a nosebleed.

The production is incredibly clinical. It has to be – few tracks here contain much in the way of instrumentation. Aside from regulation synth and beats, a guest vocal here or echoing ambience there, the canvas is pretty clean. I dream of a When Saints Go Machine album produced by College; but then perhaps they'd spend too much time arguing over who had the idea first. You know what they say about putting hungry tigers in the same cage.

Thinking about it, the press release that accompanied my copy of the album may actually have been an exercise in conceptual literature. The beauty of the physical form of the product is extolled over all else: "The 80s-esque cover art for both records is perfectly executed, providing another reason to invest in College, particularly in the limited edition coloured vinyl editions." It perfectly encapsulates the notion of art as a commodity, and is a reminder of the cynical, or pragmatic age that it recalls.