CMX - Cloaca Maxima (1997)

CD1 (Physis): 1) Ainomieli '97; 2) Nimetön; 3) Kultanaamio; 4) Nahkaparturi; 5) Nainen tanssii tangoa; 6) Vallat ja väet; 7) Kirosäkeet; 8) Suljettu astia; 9) Elokuun kruunu; 10) Rautakantele; 11) Hiki; 12) Manalainen; 13) Kätketty kukka; 14) Linnunhammas; 15) Marian ilmestys
CD2 (Aetheris): 1) Hiljaisuuteen; 2) Ruoste; 3) Helvetin hyvä paimen; 4) Talviunia; 5) Turkoosi; 6) Veden ääri; 7) Aura; 8) Pelasta maailma; 9) Tähteinvälinen '97; 10) Tulikiveä; 11) Yöllisiä; 12) Mikään ei vie sitä pois; 13) Yö ei ole pimeä päivä; 14) Talvipäivänseisaus
CD3 (Astralis): 1) Musiikin ystävälliset kasvot '97; 2) Katariinanpyörä (Akustinen); 3) Siivekäs; 4) Hyvä tahto; 5) Joet; 6) Aamutähti '97; 7) Keskellä; 8) Marmori; 9) Seittemän Jeesusta; 10) Riitti; 11) Saatana; 12) Pimeä maa (Live); 13) Näkyjen pitelijä; 14) Shakti; 15) Reuna

A summarised chronicle of the first six albums and the assorted b-sides and rarities; and the particularly exciting new songs tucked away.

Key tracks: Out of the new and "new" songs - "Ainomieli '97", "Siivekäs", "Saatana"

CMX have made it a habit to close chapters of their story through the Cloaca Maxima compendiums, and the very first arrived at a particularly relevant time: drummer Pekka Kanniainen had left the band per mutual agreement by the time the compilation was out (his final recordings with CMX are here), which naturally left CMX reflecting on where they were and how they'd got there. They had been cult underdog punks who had somehow turned into national hitmakers, and the stylistic chaos of Discopolis had stirred the pot so that the next steps the temporary trio would take were still unclear both to everyone and themselves. The three discs of Cloaca Maxima act as the chronicles of that strange journey from the gritty beginning to the present: the first two collect together the singles and favourite album cuts, split between the louder, rowdier and more direct songs on disc 1 and slower, prettier and stranger ones on disc 2, while the third disc presents b-sides, previously unreleased recordings and brand new songs. Thorough and sprawling, it acts as the full stop for their first lifecycle before moving onto the next.

The third disc is going to be the big point of interest for most people who listen to this compilation at this point, so let's tackle that first. From a b-side perspective CMX weren't at this stage particularly wild with the format, and so the third CD largely consists of direct outtakes from their parent albums and it's clear why some of these weren't considered strong enough to make it to the actual records in the end. That isn't to say they're disappointing songs (only the largely pointless live version of "Pimeä maa" and thoroughly by-the-numbers "Hyvä tahto" go there), but any b-side maniac looking for that next hidden gem is unlikely to find many here. That said, there are some particularly delectable rarities here: the acoustic version of "Katariinanpyörä" is better than the original album version, the bonkers "Seittemän jeesusta" seems to be created out of elements from completely different songs (that bass groove with that acoustic picking and those odd electic guitar interjections?) and thoroughly stands out from the crowd, and "Saatana" tricks the listener with its acoustic first half before it unleashes its skeletal beat, off-kilter flute flourishes and a hell of a chorus which could've been on a single in itself. The re-recording of the early EP cut "Musiikin ystävälliset kasvot" which starts the third disc is effectively here to canonise one of their best early songs as part of the contemporary CMX lore, with the arrangement of the original version retained but everything else beefed up, and so the song is objectively improved as its maniac rock gets some muscles under it. The same goes for the re-recording of Aurinko's "Ainomieli" which receives its official coronation as one of the band's greats after being almost dismissed from its parent album in fear of being too commercial - now, here, it's showered with the respect it deserves and gets a similar faithful boost in performance and production which makes it the definitive version of the song (and it was also finally released as a single to promote the compilation). The other two 1997 re-takes across the three discs are on the other hand much less impressive: "Tähteinvälinen" has been given a new mix with a little more edge but it's still a semi-awkward song, and the brand new (and so thoroughly 1990s) trip hop -esque remix of "Aamutähti" is not a patch on the original and really shouldn't be here taking away its spot

The actual highlights are instead in the brand new songs - five in total, but three in particular. Following directly from Discopolis CMX have continued to flirt with electronic elements (and the prevalent use of drum machines could be seen as the band experimenting around without a drummer, given the circumstances), but the spirit of these songs is closer to the somber and graceful Rautakantele; "Joet" in fact is a Rautakantele outtake that wasn't finished in time for the album and which was now finally given the chance to get recorded. "Siivekäs", "Joet" and "Marmori" are bound together by their slower tempos, acoustic guitars guiding the rhythm and the gorgeous string arrangements that act as the dominant element of each song, with atypically longing and romantic lyrics from Yrjänä - all very Rautakantele, but the first two still retaining the programmed drums and synthesizer swerves of the directly preceding album. The gentle "Joet" and the more CMX-leaning guitar walls of "Marmori" are both beautiful songs in their own right, but "Siivekäs" is the gem of the entire compilation - it leans so heavily into its synthetic elements that it could be considered CMX's take on synth pop, and within the atmospheric production and breathtaking strings lies a truly phenomenal song full of pathos, emotion and stand-out melodic bliss. It's a strange creature which sounds both classic at first sight and yet even now almost subversive for the band, but above all it's an all-time great for the band - a swooning, epic, beautiful creature out of sync with everything else on the compilation but which rivals the very best the past albums had to offer. "Shakti" and "Piste" which close the compilation are on the other hand more direct Discopolis remnants, with "Shakti" a deranged clipshow of a quasi-dance song composed out of segments left on the editing room floor and "Piste" acting as its detached outro - they're not a patch on the other three songs and they'll never be anything but curios for the fans (and obvious disc filler), but in the right mindset can be a strange amount of fun.

As far as the actual Best Of portion of Cloaca Maxima goes, it does serve the purpose of really putting it into perspective how exciting CMX could be across their first six albums. The band's first decade was an uneven ride where inconsistency was often the norm and so while the first two discs represent a rather cleaned-up version of the discography so far with the dodgy bits polished off, it also highlights perfectly why those albums are worth a visit because there's so many great moments scattered across them. The selection isn't perfect (where's "G"? The "Aamutähti" remix?) and it skews strongly towards the trilogy of hit records from Aura onwards: the debut album Kolmikärki is only represented by a single song ("Nahkaparturi", which is a fine representation of it at least), though it is explained in the extensive liner notes that the band struggled to pair up the shoddy sound quality of the early ears next to to the more professionally recorded follow-ups. Even with the quirks, it's hard to deny just how solid the run of songs across both discs is and especially so on the non-stop rock and roll fierceness of the first disc, with a hit after hit after an obscure album cut which doesn't pale all in comparison to the canon classics. Despite the uneven weighting between the six albums and the scattered early EPs, the selection that did make the cut do represent all the sides of this era of CMX accurately and they work so tightly as a set of songs (the flow from the hymnal "Hiljaisuuteen" to the gentle "Ruoste" is actually ingenius) that even an established fan can get a kick out of listening to this once in a while. As an added bonus, and if you know Finnish, the liner notes feature Yrjänä's nutshell thoughts on each song ranging from interesting trivia and anecdotes to delightfully Nordic bluntness ("A song where I got quite close to what I wanted", he so elaborately writes on "Talvipäivänseisaus"). 

The first Cloaca Maxima feels particularly poignant given the sheer amount of development CMX went through during its timeframe, how Kanniainen's departure gave the band a natural sequence break and how from the next album (and the next drummer) onward they really did feel like CMX 2.0. This, then, is the summarised chronicle of CMX's successes so far, a reminder of how they became one of Finland's most influential rock acts. In the playlist age it's often easy to forget how compilations like these were often treated like important milestones for artists, in particular whenever actual care was taken during the drafting process - and Cloaca Maxima really does feel like the well deserved rest at the winner's podium after the first race.

Rating: 8/10

Physical corner: The three discs are stored in a "chubby" style multi-CD jewel case, which gives it that extra physical impression and suits the chapter-defining archival nature of the selection. The liner notes, as detailed before, contain Yrjänä's descriptions on each song and all the lyrics for the third disc.

Bat for Lashes - Fur and Gold (2006)

1) Horse and I; 2) Trophy; 3) Tahiti; 4) What's a Girl to Do?; 5) Sad Eyes; 6) The Wizard; 7) Prescilla; 8) Bat's Mouth; 9) Seal Jubilee; 10) Sarah; 11) I Saw a Light

Welcome to the mystical world of Bat for Lashes - even though it's not quite the welcome you once might've thought it to be.

Key tracks: "Horse and I", "Trophy", "What's a Girl to Do?"

Time has unexpectedly removed some of the charm of Fur and Gold. Back in 2006 this was an incredibly exciting debut release from a new artist with a particularly characteristic touch to her music, and whose debut gave us the chance to peer into the musical fairytale world she called her own. Since then we've had many more Bat for Lashes releases which have built up on that initial excitement, and which have at the same time accidentally revealed just how one-note Natasha Khan's debut actually was - and in retrospect, just how much of its magic was reliant on two songs in particular. One of them, "Horse and I", is one of the defining debut album openers of the new millennium - a thrilling journey of a song that sets out Khan's entire ethos and manifesto and then crafts a world around those in just under three minutes, built on a small number of very particular elements (with a harpsichord of all things in the lead role) but marching on like a juggernaut, making for an incredibly powerful introduction. The other, "What's a Girl to Do?", takes those same ideas and marries them to a more traditional pop song format with the result coming across like a gothic nightmare take on Motown; with Khan's alluring personality, an instantly attention-demanding set of hooks and a swooning, theatrically bombastic chorus, as well a classic music video, it easily set itself out as one of 2006's best singles and still commands attention the moment the music player queues it up.

Beyond those songs Fur and Gold just isn't as superlative as it felt originally though, which is as strange as it is a little sad. Khan has a very particular vision for her music - all widescreen, dramatic and mystical, lyrics full of wild conjurations and bat lightning hearts - and in her later albums she's weaved those ideas into a multitude of sounds and styles that she now calls her own. Fur and Gold in comparison is all gothic gloom, crawling tempo and sparse arrangement where the lack of elements is as much of an instrument as the steady simple beats, strings, the occasional bass and Khan's keyboards are. Which isn't a bad formula to build songs upon and many of the cuts here - the hypnotic "Trophy", seductively sleazy "The Wizard", the Nick Cave -esque "Sarah", the quiet "Sad Eyes" - do well with it. It simply gets very similar very soon when there's little variety involved, which is all the more apparent towards the backside of the album when Khan has started to exhaust her bag of tricks, and what initially impressed now already seems rote. "Bat's Mouth" and "Seal Jubilee" already run on fumes, and the closing "I Saw a Light" is practically exhausting with its six-and-half minute duration and ends the album with by committing the cardinal sin of being boring. Khan has laid out a solid foundation for herself but the relative lack of range gets a little monotonous, and sonical shake-ups like "What's a Girl to Do" and the surprisingly bright-eyed and airy "Prescilla" that liven things up just by way of offering something different are few and far between.

Khan herself is incredibly compelling as a storyteller for these surreal dream-like scenarios she sets out in her songs and she's by far the stand-out aspect of Fur and Gold. Even when the music threatens to turn into a bog you have to wade through and the lyrics veer a little too close into particularly vivid teen diary poetry, she's front and centre with her charisma pulling everything together into a functionable whole. Without her in lead this'd be half the album it is now because as far as the material itself goes, apart from the handful of highlights Fur and Gold sticks a lot less than it gives the impression of. Still, it's not an album I can badmouth even as the years have dimmed its shine. Khan's simply written better, more consistent records further on in her career and by assessing her journey (so far) as a whole, I guess I've finally come to realise that I only ever did listen to this album on the strength of a few select songs while the rest acted as enjoyable enough padding in-between. It's a compelling sound with much promise, but promise turns out to be the key word after all.

Rating: 6/10

CMX - Discopolis (1996)

1) Discoinferno; 2) Antroposentrifugi; 3) Nimetön; 4) Aamutähti; 5) Jerusalem; 6) Vallat ja väet; 7) Paha; 8) Suljettu astia; 9) Epäonnisten liikemiesten helvetti; 10) Arcana; 11) Silmien ummistamisesta Nansenin galvanointiin

Enter the industrial disco inferno. Twists, turns and loops.

Key tracks: "Antroposentrifugi", "Aamutähti", "Vallat ja väet"

Where to start? If you are following CMX's journey chronologically then Discopolis is the first truly befuddling curveball they throw at you; and if you're just going through the back catalogue in a random order, it's still going to be a strange trip no matter when you stumble onto it. Let down by the self-production experiment of Rautakantele where they had the songs ready before they hit the studio, together with an ol' faithful friend Gabi Hakanen the band took the total opposite route for the follow-up. Instead of having already written the material the band started recording sketches, demos and ideas in the studio and then began to construct the actual songs by cutting and clipping sections together, utilising the latest studio technology (this is apparently Finland's first ever ProTools-recorded album?) to form a piecemeal record. And that still doesn't explain how the songs turned out the way they did, as the band took the highly technological approach as inspiration to head towards an industrial techno-hell soundscape where heavy metal riffs would mingle with remix-ready drum loops: where you can't tell where the irony ends and earnest experimentation begins in-between the mosh pit numbers, the heartfelt moments where the facade is stripped off and whatever side the sardonic smoky jazz club number "Paha" is meant to represent.

Discopolis gets a weird rep because it is a weird album, both on the obvious surface level and - once you get to know it a bit better - perhaps moreso a little deeper under the surface as well. It finds CMX at crossroads: after two incredibly successful albums with big ballad hits and a more nuanced (some might say audience-friendly) sound CMX were bigger than ever, but the internal schism with drummer Pekka Kanniainen's disillusionment with the band and the music industry had began to affect the group's internal chemistry and the band's future was looking blurry. Throwing themselves into this studio experiment that was so different to their former recording ethos feels like a carpe diem moment to try and stoke a new fire going - and the loop-heavy approach probably helped with the issues with Kanniainen too. It's an album of thrown-in ideas where nothing was too peculiar to be shelved outright if it had the possibility of finding a place in one production cut/paste job or another - and a lot of those ideas still stem from the same band who had been evolving their songcraft and were keen to move forward in that respect. The weird industrial dancefloor metal moments and their adlibbed Scatman-riffing ("Nimetön", and maybe the "di-di-di-di-diii-ii-ii-ii-iisco" in "Discoinferno" could count as an eurodance hook too) and the bonkers euroclub-goes-metal homages ("Antroposentrifugi", without a doubt one of the wildest songs CMX have ever released and so ecstatic in its insanity) share spaces with earnest moments of songwriting which clearly stem from the preceding two records. "Aamutähti" is a gentle lullaby decorated with beautiful horn sections and light-as-air backing vocals with only the drum loop giving it that overt Discopolis vibe, "Suljettu astia" is such a normal rock song that it feels awkwardly out of place here, and "Vallat ja väet" rises from the ashes of its noise breakdowns into a heartfelt and longing giant that has the honest strength of a band acknowledging they've made it big time and they're going to ensure it damn well means something, by precision-firing an anthem so sharp and striking it instantly becomes a landmark song for them. They're reminiscent of the peaks of the past two albums - and in terms of "Vallat ja väet" and "Aamutähti" specifically they surpass many of them - but in the vortex of Discopolis they're almost too serious and too focused.

It's a bit of a mess then: a band heading down a clear path, but intentionally disorienting themselves from it. But it's a really good mess, if a bit uneven. Discopolis is a little bit of everything: hilarious (intentionally or unintentionally) and emotional, heavy as hell and still at times incredibly graceful, successfully exploring new concepts as well as sometimes clunkily forcing them down the band's material. But it's always, always memorable and most of the time really interesting and still solidly written underneath the ProTools trickery where you can literally hear the cuts between takes. It is, as expected, a little uneven and if there's a fault to Discopolis it's that its flow is all over the place and in particular that it ends with a whimper: "Epäonnisten liikemiesten helvetti" is mostly just loud and disgruntled huffing-and-puffing which at this stage feels a little regressive, and the sprawling and outro-like "Silmien ummistamisesta Nansenin galvanointiin" is a great guitar hook aimlessly lost in search of an actual song to be in. At least "Arcana" in between is one of the best marriages of machine and man that the album boasts, highlighting that in another timeline Discopolis could've been an incredibly solid industrial rock album, even if sans its quirks. "Jerusalem" too isn't as good as its admittedly impressive choir explosion of a hook would give the impression of, because that choir is the only really memorable part of the song. And if you want an example of how the flow in general feels like a crapshoot, just check out how "Aamutähti" and its skygazing grace follows three of the album's most outrageous songs and it feels like the album abruptly hits the handbrakes each and every time. Discopolis is uneven and all over the place - but it's so often close to genius too.

I can absolutely understand why one person would be over the moon for this album and another would consider it a confusing dip in quality, and boringly I meet the extremes somewhere a little more centrist. Discopolis is as thrilling and inspired as it is an odd duck hinting at a greater potential; whether that'd have been by focusing more on either its earnest or its unhinged qualities, or CMX simply tightening the quality control a little bit more. But even with that caveat, it's still one of CMX's most fascinating albums and in a thoroughly positive way. It nails that unpredictability and askewness that makes up so much of the band's DNA and appeal, which has certainly already made appearances across the past five albums but nowhere so imminently as it has in these brimstone disco floor fillers and whirlwind industrial anthems. After Discopolis CMX would calm down a little and begin their second life as a steadfast and focused rock act, as if they deliberately trapped their excess madness within the confinements of Discopolis; while it's no classic album, it's riveting to peek into its Pandora's box nonetheless.

Rating: 7/10

Magenta Skycode - Relief (2010)

 
1) The Simple Pleasures; 2) Kipling; 3) Night Falls on the Rifle; 4) Sometimes; 5) King of Abstract Painters; 6) Trains Are Leaving the Yard; 7) The Old World; 8) Escaping Outdoors; 9) Montag; 10) We're Going to Climb / Kipling (Reprise)

Moving onto lighter and airier fields from the debut, still scaling grand heights and brimming with melody but more at peace - and more resonant.

Key tracks: "The Simple Pleasures", "Kipling", "Night Falls on the Rifle"

I finished my review for Magenta Skycode's debut IIIII by explaining its power via a quote from the second album, Relief. The opening song of Relief states that "the simple pleasures are always the deepest" and that was the motto why the debut's pop majesty - the moments of melodic bombast with pitch-perfect production, sweeping choruses and majestic peaks - worked so well even though, if you assess it with cold logic, it's hardly a unique album and Jori Sjöroos' flimsy front of a band had the personality of a well equipped studio. Sometimes all you need is just a song that slaps without any greater emotional resonance. The irony of using that quote from Relief is that as far as the two albums go, Relief is the one which actually goes beyond that.

The basic recipe is still as formerly described but in comparison to the stylishly moody IIIII, the blinds have been pulled back and the windows have been opened. The palette for Relief is brighter and airier, and the songs sound more open and positively glow, welcoming the listener in rather than suavely hiding in the dark club corners like the predecessor did. It's an album perfect for the spring: the soundtrack for the world moving on from the dark of winter and the snow melting under the sunshine to reveal patches of green grass coming to life, air filled with a crisp freshness. It's also much less of a 'band' album and it quietly drops the whole rock band pretense of the debut. Sjöroos has a couple of helping hands here (including his PMMP compatriots Paula Vesala and Mira Luoti in blink-and-miss backing vocal roles) but ultimately Relief has the air and aura of a classic multi-talented singer/songwriter/producer's album, where each song is given anything that suits the vibe its creator is trying to pin down and where recreating anything in a live setting is a completely secondary concept. By also moving away from the whole "ordinary band plays stadium songs" shtick, Sjöroos opens up Magenta Skycode's sound to less rigid structures, with sections where there's sometimes little distinction between a build-up and a verse and in fact where entire songs can almost act as dramatic payoffs to prior ones. The Chorus is still the center that everything else seeks towards in order to reach that perfect torchlight waving moment - and Relief has a ton of instantly great moments like that - but how the songs get there now is a different matter. It's probably my highly seasonal associations with this album but the one adjective that always comes to my mind is "natural", as in of nature - the songs play out like a wild growth of instruments and arrangements, in the center of which is a path to the lofty destination.

The new approach unlocks what kept IIIII away from reaching that next, more personal level that was readily in its sights but still beyond its grasp. Relief overall sounds more personal and, well, less like a stylistic experiment of a project and more like a vessel for human expression. Sjöroos' voice is less buried in the mix this time and while he's not necessarily the world's greatest lyricist or a singer, he's so much more confident here than he's ever been before and he soars through Relief with confidence and boldness without hiding himself with production techniques, which adds another layer to the album's overall earnestness and openness. It sounds beautifully at peace and overflowing with personal richness, expressed through these giant arches of melodies and multi-layered arrangements - and for once, Sjöroos' own voice clearly in the middle. It'd be hard to call him anything but a creator without limits (given his multi-project discography) but Relief feels personal and the title feels apt for it, as the weights fall off the shoulder.

As far as the actual songs go, the heavy hitters come up right at the start as Relief doesn't hesitate to start high. "The Simple Pleasures" (quoted earlier) is the big pop song to nail down the album's epic scales right from the beginning and it just gets bigger and bigger with each go-around to more and more majestic results, "Kipling" details the record's more free-flowing creativity with its mantra-like verses (if it's appropriate to call them that) and the sprawling jungle of melodies that wraps around the central shuffling beat that rides the song into the grand horizon, and "Night Falls on the Rifle" adds a touch of darkness from the debut to contrast against the rest of the album's light, eventually revealing its full colours in its harmony-laden chorus that deserves all the repeating it gets. From the opening salvo Relief moves onto a more understated middle section, but letting things calm down a little brings out some of the best qualities of Relief the clearest. The opening trio might be the best songs of the record, but in particular the flow from "King of Abstract Painters" to "Escaping Outdoors" is where all those nature analogies shine the brightest (sometimes literally, "Escaping Outdoors" and all), with an everpresent lush flurry of melodies and extended atmospheric build-ups really invoking that spring morning atmosphere of stepping out into what feels like a new world. They're slightly subtler songs than the big anthem threesome that opens the record, but the melodies are among the album's - and Magenta Skycode's - loveliest and they're honestly the kind of songs you want to wrap yourself into. 

They also resonate, and that's the big thing. IIIII I enjoyed because it's full of bangers (simple as), but Relief actually works its way to me on an emotional level, all to do with those abstract seasonal sensory memories it has despite it actually making little sense (the album was released in October, I got a copy of it in December and my actual memories of it revolve around my time in university in the UK where you just get a weird weather mush that largely blurs together for 12 months instead of clear seasons that would generate seasonal vibes). Even "Montag", the one somewhat ill-fitting song here thanks to its atypically lurching tempo and its melodramatic gothic agony that's at odds with the rest of the album's mood board (from which the grand come-together finale "We're Going to Climb" launches off gloriously), has warmed up to me over the years because it's reached that point where it evokes some actual memories of my university campus that I cherish in my nostalgic rabbit's hole. Thanks to the new approach to songwriting and presentation, the same qualities that won over on IIIII are now able to turn these songs into scenes made out of audio that you can see yourself stepping into, and that vividly atmospheric touch edges it over into a great album. It's a shame that tis where Sjöroos decided to park the project apart from one last EP a few years later: on Relief Magenta Skycode started to turn from one project among others into an artistic vehicle with its own personality, and it would've been interesting to hear where he'd take it from here. 

Rating: 8/10

CMX - Rautakantele (1995)

1) Rautakantele; 2) Yöllisiä; 3) Palvonnan eleitä; 4) Talviunia; 5) Kirosäkeet; 6) Ennustaja; 7) Päivälintu; 8) G; 9) Pelasta maailma; 10) Linnunhammas; 11) Veden ääri; 12) Pirunmaitoa; 13) Hiljaisuuteen

Beautiful songs pushing through a production that tries to stifle them.

Key tracks: "Kirosäkeet", "G," Pelasta maailma"

Aura was a big deal and so a good amount of pressure was always going to be involved when it came time to follow it up, and from the outset Rautakantele looked to be destined to fail. The motivation difficulties that would lead then-drummer Pekka Kanniainen to become an ex-drummer in a few years time became more apparent as Kanniainen struggled to attend writing or practice sessions. Disagreements about the production of the album gave the band the idea to self-produce the record, which didn't go quite according to plan and the band's regret about how the album sounds would become the first thing they’d ever mention when discussing the record. Given the studio time had been booked and the band had plenty of songs in bank they started the recording sessions without their drummer, which meant that most of the material that was recorded leaned towards the softer side of CMX's spectrum - so much so that towards the end of the sessions there were so many doubts within the group about how the album so far had turned out that they quickly recorded a number of songs more in vein with what you'd expect from CMX.

Somehow, through all that, Rautakantele survived. The touch of tenderness and the open embrace of something more graceful that Aura introduced to CMX's sound is followed upon and even emphasised on Rautakantele, through the abysmal production job. The drums are so anemic it makes you wonder if it was a direct snapback to the issues the rest of CMX had with Kanniainen (“Palvonnan eleitä" alone has probably the worst hi-hat sound I’ve ever heard in an actual studio release), the guitars are completely depthless be it acoustic or electric, and everything else is simply so flat this may as well be a 2D release. But the songs bloom through the concrete, and the skeletal sound and the frequent more raw outbursts of volume turn Rautakantele into an album that's both beautiful and ugly at the same time. The troubles that lead to the album are reflected within its tones, with a sense of melancholy and discord across it but through it all, there's a bright warmth that pulls through against the odds reflected in its nonetheless rich arrangements, filled with more playful guitar parts, adventurous vocal lines and a frequently appearing three-piece backing vocalist set whose soft cadence smoothen Yrjänä’s gravel and always become the best part of any song they appear in. Rautakantele like a barren country field in the middle of winter: stark and lifeless, but still picturesque with all the snow over it. 

Much of the album is made out rock songs with serene hearts, where underneath the scarred guitars there's an abundance of strong melodies, and it's at this intersection of heavy and tender where Rautakantele is most often at its best. It’s where you find the anthemic "Kirosäkeet", vulnerable power-ballad-in-making "Talviunia", "Ennustaja" which is awash with playful vocal melodies that beam through and the simply sublime "G" that escalates into a flurry of backing vocal harmonies over one of the band's most - almost spiritually - heavenly choruses. The more traditionally CMX-esque bursts of manic energy like the rhythm-flailing title track and the entertainingly twisted “Palvonnan eleitä” (that speak-song second verse!) support their gentler counterparts and lend the album a surprisingly rapid pace - and even they have a melodic flourish that gives them an airier footing. It all feels - for the first time with CMX - light as air, with none of the pressure behind the scenes detectable; anything but really, as the band has never sounded this effortlessly great.

It is the slow and hymnal heart of Rautakantele that’s become synonymous with the album though, with an intimate touch rare for a CMX album. It's that side which also offers "Pelasta maailma" which became one of CMX's great evergreens shortly after its appearance, and little wonder why. It's a startling song, really, because it's so honest with its romance and peace. No hidden tricks, no cheeky twists: simply a ballad the size of a small personal universe, colouring the night sky with the northern lights in tune with its wistful woodwinds, heartbeat of a drum machine and a genuinely touching vocal performance from Yrjänä and the backing vocalists. "Päivälintu" and "Veden ääri" are more traditional acoustic campfire ballads and are more unarmed than anything the band has recorded before, and "Yöllisiä" even proves that it's possible to mix CMX's erratic whimsy into these new ideas as it topsy-turvies around its strums like a court jester - and then suddenly clearing the table with a moment of quietly touching resonance as the backing vocals begin to gather behind. You even get a literal hymn, “Hiljaisuuteen”, to close the album: a choir piece that has all the holy heavy-heartedness of an actual church song, Yrjänä backed by a multi-head chorus all a cappella who bid a hallow farewell to the album which strikes straight into the heart for this little atheist who grew up in a habitually Christian country. The transition from "Pirunmaitoa" - angry and growling at start but moving into a calmer extended instrumental jam in the way the band enjoyed tiding their albums to the close at the time - isn't perfect, but I'm not sure what exactly could lead flawlessly into "Hiljaisuuteen" either, and as an actual ending it feels just perfect. I don't think I'd ever be able to rank it among my favourite CMX songs as a song, but it's up there with my favourite album closers of theirs, haunting the space long after its brought the disc into its silent end.

“Hiljaisuuteen” is by no means representative of Rautakantele but despite the initial surprise it makes perfect sense for it to exist here. There’s strands of serenity, intimacy and almost spiritual calm throughout the album and after those strands have spent the album wading between rowdy guitars, gentle embraces of melody and a rudimentary production that threatens to strangle the life out of them, a hymn is a natural place for them to gather together. In its own way it makes sense that the band would retreat into a clearer headspace when all four walls around them kept crashing down, and the first thing that comes to my mind from Rautakantele is just how clearly it’s guided by vision, allowing itself to sound so uninhibitedly pretty even if it means shaking away the edge the band had carried - and will go on to carry - with them; to the extent that no matter how long the discography has grown it still remains unique in that extent. The strength of the songwriting and the weakness of the production makes it a strong but wounded album, clearly imperfect but its strengths glow so strongly they sweep away the shadows. If it sounded better maybe it would be an all-time great - and yet in a way its that crippled grace that the record bears which makes it so alluring.

Rating: 8/10