CMX - Aura (1994)

1) Mikään ei vie sitä pois; 2) Sametinpehmeä; 3) Elokuun kruunu; 4) Ruoste; 5) Nainen tanssii tangoa; 6) Turkoosi; 7) Kultanaamio; 8) Raskas; 9) Talvipäivänseisaus; 10) Työt ja päivät; 11) Pilvien kuningas; 12) Aura

More focused and unafraid to be beautiful at times - practically a reinvention for the band, and it's now time to take them seriously.

Key tracks: "Elokuun kruunu", "Ruoste", "Kultanaamio"

I've sometimes seen Aura described as the Finnish OK Computer and while that's a slightly hyperbolic sentiment and the two albums have very little in common musically, there is a seed of truth in there as they do both represent a turn of the tide in the popular pop culture context. Much like Radiohead's epic third album signalled the shift from the bright-eyed optimism of Britpop to the anxiety-exhausted final years of the 1990s in the UK, Aura has become the representative of the shift in Finnish rock music, with the general audiences well and truly adopting the nearly endless wealth of weird rock bands that the late 80s-early 90s Finland was giving birth to. In the wider scheme Aura didn't start the revolution, but it became its face, representing the upgrade from cult success ti actual success for CMX and many of their peers, as all these lyrically adept and musically unique acts who had been bubbling underneath became unlikely radio stars and shaped the Finnish nineties in their own characteristic ways.

The wildest thing about Aura is where it came from. Keep in mind that up to this point CMX were a chaotic group of grizzly Northern men who were always restlessly stirring their own pot, intentionally awkward to adore. They were prog-rockers doing hardcore punk, a band who found it hilarious and thrilling to pervert their hooks with abrupt twists and whose albums ran amok. After a string of three erratic albums each one more unpredictable than before (and not necessarily always in the best way), they were incredibly unlikely heroes to ever get a real break - if they ever even wanted it. CMX were a band in a constant flux, a maelstrom of wild ideas and wilder energy. But they were also talented, ambitious musicians who were growing out of the playpen they had started in and though they had tried to fight change in Aurinko, eventually it became too tempting to resist.

Aura is where CMX took a deep breath and focused. If you want to keep drawing parallels to OK Computer, then Aura bears the same notion of the band putting their heads together to plan for something greater than the sum of its parts, something that would take them to the next level artistically and musically. In Aura's case, that move was allowing ideas to represent themselves calmly and slowly if needed. The old fire hasn’t disappeared: "Sametinpehmeä" is perhaps a bit too much of a throwback to the last two albums that's a little ill-fitting in its current company and only seems to be on the album to remind any old fans right from the start that yes it's still the same CMX, but "Raskas" is just as positively punchy as anything before and the delightfully bonkers tango/heavy metal hybrid "Nainen tanssii tangoa" is fueled by the flashes of complete insanity that was the main characteristic of early CMX. Even the shaman drum jams that were synonymous with the band are still intact as far as actually opening the album, but "Mikään ei vie sitä pois" immediately highlights the changes in the band's songwriting. Unlike all the other previous drum circle anthems it's guided by melody, and rather than just standing out as a weird novelty, it makes not just for an effective intro but stands out as a song in its own right, mystically leading into Aura's world. 

Those familiar throwbacks are largely there to bridge gaps though, and for most of its duration Aura looks both forward and elsewhere entirely. It is a gentler and softer record than the first three, undeniably; but it’s also more expansive and cohesive, and quite frankly more thought-out. Many of the songs are built around acoustic guitars and four tracks - a quarter of the album - are effectively ballads or mood pieces with A.W. Yrjänä's voice in the forefront in a manner it hasn't been before; among them are the elegant and softly spoken “Ruoste” that became the album’s runaway hit and the deceptively beautiful and secretly tragic “Talvipäivänkumous” that's like a light in the middle of the coldest winter night. At the center of it it's CMX embracing the concept that you can create something beautiful with a honest heart, and it opens so many paths for the band across even the harder songs. Arrangements are expanded with more keyboards and most notably a set of strings, which land a central role in every song they turn up in thanks to some sublime string arrangements that are overy and beyond the generic rock band orchestral wallpaper. The band’s prog influences are rising right to the surface as well, with the Pink Floydian “Pilvien kuningas” resting in its keyboard-trodden groove for a good nine minutes as the band lose themselves in the kind of instrumental jamming that they’d shy away from previously. “Elokuun kruunu” and “Kultanaamio” complete the band’s transformation into 90s alternative stars: they're two towering guitar anthems that sound as majestic on the hundredth listen as they do on the first, boldly soaring. "Elokuun kruunu" is fantastic in its own right, showing a little restraint even as it goes for the jugular in its anthemic chorus, but "Kultanaamio" is the album's centrepiece - you can predict right from the simple bass intro that the song is eventually going to explode and when it does, with the string section swooping in from the shadows like a gust of wind that just gave the song's wings flight, it's truly incredible. It's CMX well and truly reincarnated, unafraid to be a little more open towards its listeners but backing that notion up with a melodic abundance that begs to be heard.

As a first for CMX, it's also a set of songs that hold together remarkably. Aura is an album, a statement of intent for CMX's brand new form. It’s exciting in its cohesiveness, how dramatic arcs are built and sustained through several songs, where everything builds up on what appeared before. “Mikään ei vie sitä pois” and “Sametinpehmeä” bridge the gap from the past to the present, “Elokuun kruunu” reveals the band’s new more elegant side, “Ruoste” digs deeper into that and introduces the strings, “Nainen tanssii tangoa” incorporates those strings in something more conventional for the band, et cetera. They're also, for the most, part great songs. There's a few that truly make a stand - "Elokuun kruunu", "Kultanaamio", "Ruoste", "Talvipäivänseisaus" - but the overall flow is not only cohesive, but consistent. There was a lot of potential as well as flashes of greatness across the past three albums, but it's like it finally clicked for the band themselves what exactly those moments were, and they've removed the chaff around them. There's grace, there's fury and there's a constant sense of surprise and excitement, and it's not easy to understand why this album in particular lifted CMX on a pedestal. For me personally Aura is a few small steps away from being a truly classic album, but it is still undeniable in so many ways.

Rating: 8/10

Lambchop - How I Quit Smoking (1995)

1) For Which We Are Truly Thankful; 2) The Man Who Loved Beer; 3) The Militant; 4) We Never Argue; 5) Life's Little Tragedy; 6) Suzieju; 7) All Smiles and Mariachi; 8) The Scary Caroler; 9) Smuckers; 10) The Militant (Reprise); 11) Garf; 12) Your Life as a Sequel; 13) Theöne; 14) Again

This is where Lambchop set their form, and if you're familiar with that form you'll already know exactly what to expect. In good and bad.

Key tracks: "We Never Argue", "Suzieju", "Theöne"

The Lambchop formula, if you will, finds its footing here. Their first album saw Kurt Wagner and his gang with one foot in alt country and one foot in slacker-esque alt rock, and now the weight's started to shift towards the former. "Americana" is arguably a better descriptor than country through: Lambchop doesn't really have the twang of a country act, but the sweeping strings, smooth orchestration and quiet acoustic murmurs all have their roots in the vintage American songbook, which Wagner interprets through his own peculiar personality traits. Lambchop albums differ by tiny factors usually detectable only by seasoned veterans of the band's music, and on How I Quit Smoking that factor is the mere act that it lays down the tracks for the next two decades. The influence of the first album is still deep in the album's psyche, though. You know how on early 90s alternative rock or indie rock albums you've got that one much slower song - sometimes with strings - that isn't really a ballad but more of an introspective moment of calm that's there to balance the album's flow? Imagine an entire album of those back to back, just remove the excess rock artistry from the equation (I can’t imagine this was a particularly exciting time to be a drummer for Lambchop, for example).

In general though, if you know Lambchop you know how this goes. Wagner mutters surrealist everyday vignettes (which often elicit a genuine chuckle), the tempo barely ever goes beyond calmly trodding ("All Smiles and Mariachi" is the only uptempo number here and I use that term extremely loosely) and overall it all goes on for a little too long while sounding a little too similar throughout, but it's nonetheless all very pleasant to listen to. How I Quit Smoking isn’t really about the power of songcraft or individual set pieces, it’s one long sustained mood where barely anything happens unless you view it through a microscope. At their most Lambchoppiest the band's music can get downright samey, and How I Quit Smoking is what you'd point towards as a solid example of that. It sets the band's norms but because of that, it also doesn't tinker around with them like some of the later albums do and so it is particularly one-note. Its charms are practically passive, the songs more of a mindset and a moodscape that present themselves without causing a stir - but if you're in a Lambchop mood it works wonder. That near-perfect collaboration between mood and music is likely why there are so many people who like this band, including me - sometimes there's no other music that would work better than Wagner's quiet grace. 

Nonetheless, to give How I Quit Smoking some credit of its own there are a few particular pieces of excellence that do stand out. "We Never Argue", "Life's Little Tragedy" and "Suzieju" forms the album's charmingly swooning core, full to their brim with the kind of elegance that would become more familiar across some albums down the line. "We Never Argue" also presents the album's catchiest vocal melody and the flute hook of "Suzieju" is the musical equivalent, so they're the bops of the record if you will, if that makes a difference. "Theöne" is a superlatively beautiful string-laden number which ends the record with an honestly touching way, with "Again" serving as its quick all-strings reprise to officially close things down. Those aren't the only parts of the album that jump out, but they're the notable ones in a sea of gentle guitar melodies, Wagner's murmur and barely-there percussion hits from one song to another, some of which are nicer than others. The only real point of criticism is that "The Militant" doesn't need to appear twice, because even if the "reprise" version has a different tone to the first version and so arguably justifies its existence, it's still the same song and bloats a tracklist that already feels like a dragging Sunday afternoon at times.

Otherwise though, unless you're insistent on listening to things chronologically (or you feel particularly inspired by this review to listen to this out of the blue, in which case, why?) by the time you get to this album you know the drill, and you'll likely have accepted it already. Lambchop have done better albums - many genuinely great - and then they've done albums like How I Quit Smoking that offer exactly what you expect and which works exactly how you'd like it to. Regardless of whether it's actually a truly memorable album is almost a moot point - it's comfortably Wagnerian at its most base form.

Rating: 6/10

Various Artists - Smash 11 (1992)

1) Erasure - S.O.S.; 2) Was (Not Was) - Shake Your Head; 3) Dr. Alban - It's My Life; 4) Shakespear's Sister - I Don't Care; 5) Elton John - The One; 6) Felix - Don't You Want Me; 7) Kim Wilde - Who Do You Think You Are?; 8) Chyp-Notic - Still in Love with You; 9) Take That - I Found Heaven; 10) U96 - Das Boot; 11) Ringo Starr - Weight of the World; 12) Indra - Misery; 13) Del Amitri - Always the Last to Know; 14) Glenn Frey - I've Got Mine; 15) Blue System - I Will Survive

One from the personal archives, a childhood favourite compilation from the years before the music nerd instincts truly kicked in. Erratic at places but some of this music is timelessly great.

Key tracks: Erasure - "S.O.S.", Was (Not Was) - "Shake Your Head", Indra - "Misery"

I grew up on V/A hit compilations before I started getting into music on a more artist-focused basis, and prior to the start of my own collection of more contemporary collections I would borrow my sister's old CDs that she had left lying around. I didn't really know anything about any of the artists or 90% of the songs on Smash 11 when I first heard it, but this was one of my most played albums when I was much, much younger.

I was also a lot more skip-happy as a child than I am now and in fact, the pre-pubescent version of myself has kindly marked the tracks officially decreed as worthy of listening in the liner notes with a ballpoint pen. There's not too many of them, and revisiting this collection a decades later it becomes clear why, i.e. because this is a rather random selection of songs. The bulk of the tracklist is very heavily based on early 1990s dance and pop - lots of classic looped beats, gorgeous house pianos, nascent eurodance synths - but then there's also a sappy Elton John MOR ballad? Del Amitri's cowboy rocking? Kim Wilde kicking it like it's still the 1980s (shocked to find out "Who Do You Think You Are" was in fact released in 1992)? Ringo freaking Starr!? Smash 11 takes a direction and then throws in wild curveballs when you least expect it. Even some of the songs more in line with the general theme stand out, with choices like U96's techno remix of the Das Boot theme (apparently a top 10 hit in Finland and a massive German smash?) or songs like Indra's "Misery" or Blue System's  "I Will Survive" (not the cover you'd expect) which I don't think ever were actual hits. This feels more like someone's personal mixtape rather than a various artists compilation of chart-toppers that I'd expect to see in store shelves, though for what it's worth I have no idea what the actual lineage or concept behind the Smash series is - the cover says "familiar from TV" but I've no idea what the program was?

Whatever the idea behind this was it's full of classics big and small, and I'm happy to say that the past version of myself already had a great taste because of each of those marked tracks are still top tier. "It's My Life" and "Baby Got Back" are of course iconic and evergreen, the former one of the finest anthems of eurodance and the latter a true refuge in audacity that wins over by embracing its own over-the-top horniness. Of the lesser known cuts, Shakespear's Sister's rollicking "I Don't Care" comes with that excellent early 90s rock energy and has a real unique flair to it with its ethereal high pitch vocal hooks, a bizarre spoken word interlude and some fantastically corny MIDI horns. The "Das Boot" techno remix is also a hoot - sometimes a way to make a famous film theme even better is to run it through a 1990s club filter and marvel at how perfectly the melody works within a dark, claustrophobic groove full of orchestral hits and robotic vocals. The most significant unearthing of the old favourites is Indra's "Misery", a song I had no recollection of but which reveals itself to be a stellar early 90s dance pop jam full of rad attitude and neon colour cool. It doesn't look like it was ever anything more than a minor regional hit, but it's one of those songs I wish would have a stronger legacy or a bigger name attached to it, because it's got such a good groove to it. As I said, I clearly already knew what's good when I was young.

There are two very big personal favourites though, right there at the start. Erasure's version of ABBA's "S.O.S." was the first version I heard of the song and to me it's the definitive one, with no disrespect to the original creators. The cold and dreamy synth pop production and Andy Bell's emotionally distant vocals work so flawlessly with that killer melody and the lyrical tone, to the extent that the warmth in the original version now sounds jarring to my ears. This is my "S.O.S.", and it's one of the finest synth pop songs of the 1990s. The "Walk the Dinosaur"-hitmaker Was (Not Was)' "Shake Your Head" on the other hand is a fever dream which I can't believe exists but I'm sure glad it does. Kim Basinger and Ozzy Osbourne trade non-sequiturs with increasing surreality, somehow escalating into "let's go to bed", under a near seven-minute dance production (thanks to the extended mix featured here) with an off-kilter vocal loop hook. It's mad but very specifically it's mad genius - it's one of the most off-kilter chart cuts of the 1990s through its star power alone. I already respect how off the rails it is, but it's just a killer in general, a gem of a pop song with the most infectious hooks in the entire collection.

Beyond the classic favourites, this is definitely a mixed bag but maybe not in the way you'd expect. This is a really solid collection of both classics and lesser known examples of early-mid 1990s pop/dance sound, if you are into that at all - which I absolutely am, even without the nostalgia filter - and e.g. the tracks in the middle from the likes of Felix, Chyp-Notic et all work excellently as part of that stylistic suite. It just also comes with a caveat because of its more awkward side tracts. Not all the non-dance cuts are by no means bad (I've already attested my love for "I Don't Care" and the Kim Wilde cut also slaps) but like all hits compilations it could do without anything close to a ballad (hi Elton), and the classic rock dinosaurs certainly don't have a place here (again, hi Elton here too). The album also starts running out of steam towards the final third when it starts pouring the MOR superstars from Ringo to Del Amitri to Glenn Frey's poor man's "Another Day in Paradise", with only Indra there in the middle to save the day and Blue System's euphoric "Go West" -esque "I Will Survive" closing the record off with a bang; though as a mea culpa I don't actually think they are bad tracks per se, I appreciate their warmly dated vibe to some extent, but they're in the wrong company. I also have this irrational aversion towards Take That that I've never been able to cure myself of, and so they still go on the skip pile. Some of the strays aside though, a good amount of this set is simply excellent pop music that time has gilded. I'm not going to say this random chart compilation is a lost classic, but it's a footnote in my own musical history and so it comes with a lot of personal weight. That said, the best rediscovery ever since I brought this album back in my collection is that solid gold jams are timeless regardless of any nostalgia.

Rating: 7/10

CMX - Aurinko (1992)

1) Pyhiinvaeltaja; 2) Härjät); 3) Aivosähköä; 4) Katariinanpyörä; 5) Todellisuuksien ylhäiset luokat; 6) Tähteinvälinen; 7) Manalainen; 8) Ainomieli; 9) Kaksi jokea; 10) Timanttirumpu; 11) Marian ilmestys; 12) Yö ei ole pimeä päivä

A lot of vigour and noise, but they're at the crossroads and uncertain where to go.

Key tracks: "Manalainen", "Ainomieli", "Marian ilmestys"

Aurinko was CMX's first album on a major label, and it has the overwhelming feeling of the band doing their darnest to convince their existing fans that they've not sold out. Or, at least that's how its downright stubborn attitude comes across for me. Its more energized moments are full of spit and brawn like the band's earliest recordings and its experimental side is drawn out to extremes to test the audience's patience, all in service of an uncompromising major label debut: a case of a band sticking it to temptations and label suggestions upon receipt of creative freedom for their big audience debut.

That's not necessarily good, or at least Aurinko is a surprisingly lackluster album after the interesting twists and turns the preceding Veljeskunta and its follow-up EP suggested. Aurinko tries to have its cake and eat it: it's absolutely a more self-assured record in its presentation than either of its predecessors and the band's vast range of influences is starting to creep through more clearly, but despite that Aurinko still sounds like a step backwards. It's a record that makes a lot of noise but wields it aimlessly, sounding feisty and raucous but trampling its song material underneath, and the first half makes it abundantly clear. Bar the calmer "Katariinanpyörä" which strums along with Veljeskunta-esque goth cool, the initial run of songs are more or less the same cranky rock gremlin repeated over and over again, barely distinguishing themselves from one another. There's an effort to sharpen the band's dynamic but the single-minded storming ahead is underwritten each time and despite their punk-meets-alternative volume, very few of these songs are any interesting or exciting at all. The only one that sticks with me is "Aivosähköä" because of its admittedly quite hilarious full stop in the middle of a chorus before a sudden breakdown occurs, but the rest is a series of copy/paste songs that sound desperate to prove CMX are still CMX, even under EMI. Problem is, it was more engaging the last time around.

Aurinko is an album with clear two distinct halves though and bar "Kaksi jokea" that's like a straggler epilogue to the first five songs, the second half is where CMX start branching out their ideas. It brings some life to the record and paves the way forward, but the issue is, I still don't think it makes for a particularly great set of songs. Many of the songs on the second half are either underbaked or they pick a shtick and stretch it until it's thin. That's we get the completely atonal and unbearable shaman drum jam "Timanttirumpu" (the worst of early CMX's many folklore drum circle bangers) and "Tähteinvälinen" which on paper sounds great - a beautiful interstellar declaration of love driven by organ and woodwind - but instead drones on and on, like it was threatening to be something too soft and just had to be dirtied up. The most interesting parts are the ones that clearly hint towards the next album, by way of the angry "Manalainen" that does what the first album tried to do but pulls it off and throws a surprising and impressively oppressing string section underneath itself, and the prog rock mood piece "Marian ilmestys" and its chopped off outro "Yö ei ole pimeä päivä" though you'd hear better versions of both songs in the near future. Unlike the first half of Aurinko the second half is actually memorable; they're still songs that all come with a 'but' attached to them when you describe them, but it's where CMX start brushing off the past and get ready for something unexpected and new, and that counts for something.

And then there's "Ainomieli", a genuinely excellent alternative radio pop gem, sitting in the middle of this mess. "Ainomieli" is the antithesis to everything else on Aurinko - self-composed, polished, welcoming and honestly a ton of fun - and that's why it's beaming with more confidence and boldness than anything else on the record. It's the exact kind of thing that CMX try to avoid for the rest of the album - it's the kind of radio-ready hit single that the band proactively reacted against by never making it one despite label pleads - but you can hear how much more focused and passionate they are about it compared to anything else around it. Its riotously jolly rapid fire chorus is one of CMX's key iconic moments and the rest of the song builds up around that centerpiece section with clarity and an understanding of melody which prior to this the band had often obscured under their raw approach. "Ainomieli" is a classic and singlehandedly rescues Aurinko: it's the song you want to return to, the song that keeps you going and the song that invites you to give a second chance to everything else around it.

I've given plenty of those second chances to Aurinko and over time it's warmed up to me slightly to the extent that I feel self-conscious when I'm harsh about it, but it is so obviously CMX in growing pains. If they had actually made an abrasive or difficult album to go with that ethos than fair play, but the cardinal sin of Aurinko is that for good parts of its duration it just isn't as interesting as the ruckus it tries to raise makes it out to be. It sees the band take cautious step back while building up the courage to take the leap forward, and I'd rather just listen to the truly wild early days or the confidently forward-thinking albums afterwards instead rather than the awkward in-between years.

Rating: 5/10

Magenta Skycode - IIIII (2006)

1) Hands Burn; 2) People; 3) Compassion; 4) Open Air; 5) Pleasure of Love; 6) I Know You're Sleeping With Your Dolls; 7) Go Outside Again; 8) Luvher Oh Hater; 9) Red Eyes; 10) This Empty Crow

Big songs, big production - enough to create emotional heights from those grand swoons alone.

Key tracks: "People", "Compassion", "Luvher Oh Hater"

Jori Sjöroos is a man of many hats. Since the 1990s he’s been splitting his abundance of time between a vast amount of different names, restlessly starting and ending projects on a whim and in process quietly become one of the most ever-present names in Finnish music while largely keeping himself out of the actual spotlight. He's gone from the doom metal of Thergothon to the trendy and radio-friendly club beats of Fu-Tourist, and from cult success with This Empty Flow to actual critical and commercial success as the invisible third member of PMMP. Sjöroos has stretched his wings far and wide across his career, launching new projects each time he wants to try doing something new but most of the time he’s remained intentionally in the background for each of them, the connections between the albums only clear for those who read liner notes. Magenta Skycode is one of the few times when Sjöroos earnestly became the leading star in one of his CV entries, taking on the role of the frontman of a band though in reality he wrote and recorded everything by himself behind the scenes anyway. Magenta Skycode's relatively short period of existence is in tandem with the rise of PMMP where Sjöroos wrote and produced some of the catchiest and most openly direct music of his career for entirely different front personnel to put their lyrics to, and though different from a genre perspective Magenta Skycode comes across like a way present that more melodic direction he'd been immersed in with his own voice front and center.

The widescreen sound of IIIII has its roots in both 80s goth rock and the bombastic indie of its time period, but its core lies in pop-like instancy of its melodies. With Sjöroos being a producer first and foremost, he coats his melodies in kitchen sink antics and a pristinely perfect, multilayered sound. It’s all unashamedly high and mighty, but it’s guided with a vision - each layer highlights the strengths of the melodies churning in the core of it all and the production makes all those layers apparent. The one thing that Sjöroos does bury is his own vocals, which appear as largely incomprehensible series of syllables following a melody (with no lyrics in the booklet to help decipher them); thus the attention moves completely to the actual sound and the strength of the rest of the songwriting, both of which can withstand the extra scrutiny. IIIII sounds really beautiful, from the light twang of the bass groove to the shimmering guitars and shining keyboards - the band line-up may be a facade but Magenta Skycode do somehow sound like a genuine group of musicians banded together with a real dynamic based on the way the instruments interact (the drums are a constant highlight especially). They're lush and clear, while still having the type of warmth these studio-perfected records sometimes miss.  

The dark-clad visuals of IIIII are a red herring: Magenta Skycode is Sjöroos' vehicle for indulging in any stadium torchlight anthem fantasies he has and so he plays them bright and loud. It's exciting and exhilirating in a way pop music does best, where each regal melodic swoon comes like a moment of victory worth cheering for, where each grabbing chorus is a rollercoast riding the thrilling downhill. It's all really confident in its own skillset, and Sjöroos has got the songs to back that ego up. His creativity was at its peak during this time as evidenced by the music he was writing for PMMP simultaneously, and IIIII comfortably rides that same imperial phase train. “People” and “Compassion” stomp with a rhythm-driven urgency as they throw in new hooks and layer old ones with each go-around, “Open Air” and “Go Outside Again” harmoniously reach out in wide open gestures in accordance with their titles, “Hands Burn” is the kind of a majestic slow-burn opener that would make any major publication’s year-end song list, (the horribly titled) “Luvher Oh Hater” and “Red Eyes” lean fully into the album’s ambitions of grandeur and present real stadium soarers, the former with one of the album’s biggest choruses and the latter with a fantastic instrumental finale with Sjöroos indulging in dramatic guitar solo gestures. Each song on IIII strives to be a capital Moment, even the slightly filler-adjacent vibe check "I Know You're Sleeping With Your Dolls" which brings the album to a moment of quiet before a sequence of multiple epic finales in a row in its back half. The excellent thing is, he manages to pull that off for most of the record.

I do readily admit though that my love for IIIII is purely superficial. The production is beautifully perfect in a strictly hifi-ist way, and that's an approach that works for me by default when it's done this well and the songs themselves have rich melodies for days - strictly as a piece of music, IIIII simply sounds great. The superficiality comes in on how I don't find this a particularly deep record, and that’s largely in part to how the music is constantly fixated on delivering those instant highs while the vocals are pushed to the back, so the intended emotional tone remains a mystery and the songs only speak with the exciting rush of cinematic hooks exploding in the sky. I don't think that's an indictment against Magenta Skycode or IIIII - the second Magenta Skycode album opens up by stating "the simple pleasures are the greatest" and I feel like that's a motto that speaks for the whole project. The songs on IIIII pull towards their exciting dramatic archs with staggering intensity every time the album is on, and that is absolutely more than enough to create a completely captivating record. If you're a fan of maximalist melodies and grand gestures, then IIIII is an easy bet.

Rating: 7/10