Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1998)

1) The King of Carrot Flowers, Pt. One; 2) The King of Carrot Flowers, Pts. Two & Three; 3) In the Aeroplane Over the Sea; 4) Two-Headed Boy; 5) The Fool; 6) Holland, 1945; 7) Communist Daughter; 8) Oh Comely; 9) Ghost; 10) Untitled; 11) Two-Headed Boy, Pt. Two

Half a legendary album begging to have a matching flipside.

Key tracks: "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea", "Two-Headed Boy", "Holland, 1945"

Like I presume many people have done over the years and certainly in the 2000s, I originally downloaded (illegally!) In the Aeroplane Over the Sea because of its status as Indie Rock 101 study material and as the kind of essential listening that you come to learn about when you spend a moment among music geeks in the internet. Likewise, like I assume happened to those many others as well, I then spent my first listens in a state of "ok, and?" after the album with way too much weight across its humble shoulders did not, in fact, turn me into a crying mess crumbled in front of something beyond mortal understanding. Thanks to time and persistence, I'm now proud to announce that after almost two decades from that first exposure I not only own a copy of this physically (by happenstance, admittedly), but I am this close to understanding the fervour!

I'm obviously being glib above, but the truth is I do understand why In the Aeroplane Over the Sea has its reputation: if there's any record that sounds like something that is going to be someone else's most beloved thing in the world, then this is it and its rebirth as a legendary album through internet word-of-mouth alone is one of my favourite stories of the 00s world wide web. And for the first half of the album, it makes a damn good case about deserving to be all the way up there with the greats. Jeff Mangum & co hide behind a great number of (intentional or unintentional) acts of being as quirky and uncommercial as you could get (the album credits read more like D&D lore book with items like euphonium, zanzithophone and a wandering genie, the uneven production, the concept that floats somewhere being about Anne Frank and just being really horny on main), but he's simply undeniably great at writing stupendously catchy and instant melodies that could be stretched into pop songs by definition and his chosen arrangements in no way obscure that. Just check out the the first twenty minutes of the album which throws one iconic cut after another like it's nothing: all parts of oddly joyful "The King of Carrot Flowers" (including the infamous "I love you Jesus Christ!", which takes an awful lot of attention in the wider discourse from the euphoric second half), the sublimely beautiful title track which I think is the key that has the greatest chance to unlock this as a personal experience to anyone, "Two-Headed Boy" which is one of the greatest man-and-guitar salvos in indie rock and "Holland, 1945", the fuzzy punk rock anthem that injects some well-needed energy into the record and sounds so blissfully delirious doing so. Even the interlude "The Fool" stacks up. It's a run of songs that thrill, resonate and excite all at once, that sound both like high art and approachably warm and comforting. Above all they're ridiculously, affectionately catchy - I've barely even looked at the lyrics sheet to this album over the years and I could still convincingly sing karaoke with nearly every line across all those songs, and frequently do when I listen to the album. People have been converted into faith with lesser miracles.

Then In the Aeroplane Over the Sea reveals itself to be one of the most obviously lopsided, top-heavy albums I've heard. There isn't a subtler or fancier way to put it - nothing after "Holland, 1945" has the same strength or charisma that the album was so full of right up to that point. "Communist Daughter" is pleasant but mostly memorable for the line about semen stained mountain tops (it took me an awful lot of time to understand that he really does say that and it wasn't just my mishearing), "Oh Comely" is a centerpiece epic without the ambition to be one or the melody or spark that could successfully carry its eight whole minutes, "Ghost" comes in through one ear and goes out the other, and of the two instrumental intermissions "Untitled" is the filler one. The reprise of "Two-Headed Boy" makes for a functional finale and it could be a beautiful way to bookend the record, if it had been preceded by a more impactful run of music that built up to its resigned farewell. As impressive as the first twenty minutes were, the next are disappointing - still decently enjoyable but a far cry from where we were, almost as if someone had swapped songs from an earlier version of the album before Mangum went back to hone things down. And this is the spot where I've been for a good portion of my life that I've been making acquaintances with this album, and I imagine it's where I'm likely going to stay too - in the past week as I've been preparing for this ramble the only thing I've really wanted to listen to is this album, and even during this binge nothing has shifted.

That is, admittedly, in large part because I don't hear this as a particularly personal experience and it feels more like a museum piece that you admire from a distance. The effect of the hype is real, but not in a way that would affect the album's inherent qualities but rather I've never been able to hear this as just an album like any other that waits for me to imprint my personal context and experiences to its songs. So, it's remained a little aloof and its weaker moments haven't been able to penetrate my defenses in a way that some less exemplary deep cuts have on albums I have deeper personal attachments to, where I can forgive the flaws to the extent that the surrounding material supports them. That just isn't the case with In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, even when its strengths are obvious and even though in particular the title track and "Holland, 1945" have managed to worm their way into my personal canon of beloved favourites. I do feel genuinely miffed about it too, not because I just want to be part of the cool gang but purely because the simple quality of those first five songs (and the interlude in-between) makes me desperately wish the rest of the album was of that caliber. Who knows, maybe it could be one of the all-time greats then. As it is, it's a tale of two halves - and one of them is exactly as incredible as people praise.

(Fun fact: my CD copy of this is a hand-me-down from a friend and was supposedly straight out of the shrink wrap after he had bought it brand new from the shop, and rather than the famous drum head lady the front cover is the "front" panel of the fold-out poster style liner notes. It feels like I'm missing a slipcase or something? It's actually quite hilarious, to me anway, that I finally own a copy of this and of course it's missing the bloody iconic cover)

Rating: 7/10

Various Artists - Strong Love: Songs of Gay Liberation 1972-1981 (2012)

1) Everyone Involved - A Gay Song; 2) Charlie Murphy - Gay Spirit; 3) Blackberri - It's Okay; 4) Smokey - Strong Love; 5) Robert Campbell - Dreamboy; 6) Mike Cohen - Evil & Lusty; 7) Lavender Country - Cryin' These Cocksucking Tears; 8) Chris Robison - Big Strong Man in My Life; 9) Steven Grossmann - Out; 10) Tom Robinson - Good to Be Gay; 11) Buena Vista - Hot Magazine; 12) International Gay Society - Stand Up for Your Rights; 13) Scrumby & Martin - Hots for a Hustler; 14) Paul Wagner - The One; 14) Conan - Tell Ol' Anita

Songs of love, empowerement and defiance - hidden hits with a big rainbow heart.

Key tracks: "A Gay Song", "Big Strong Man in My Life", "Tell Ol' Anita"

I'm going a little personal here to start with - sorry - but I think personal is an appropriate place to begin simply because a compilation of old songs of queer defiance like this hits a little a different when you are flying the rainbow flag yourself. Now, that's sentiment I wouldn't have related so strongly with if I had been writing this review earlier in my life - for many years I didn't consider my sexuality to ever be a point worth raising. I'm writing this during Pride month and that used to be a concept I felt almost alien towards: I've always accepted being gay and never felt I wanted to be anything different, but I also felt no relation to the wider LGBT+ community and if anything I found myself rather estranged by it, being so out of sync with what was considered the general "gay culture", and as a result who I am attracted to became a completely blasé topic for me in the wider sense of things. But people change, positions in your life change, your relationships change, and governments change and so do the people in power who no longer care about making life comfortable for everyone. I still don't perhaps fully relate to everything that Pride is all about but these days I do carry a little rainbow emblem on my shoulder bag and the importance of that representation has grown more meaningful on a personal level. And with that softly cultivated personal connection in mind, hearing music that was written and performed by people who were genuinely gambling around with their wellbeing by being so open about who they loved now strikes a somewhat deeper personal importance (and it certainly brings your own issues into perspective). This compilation came somewhat out of nowhere for me (I can't even remember how I stumbled across it in Bandcamp) but it took me by surprise during a period of self-analysis when it became something strangely comforting - proud - to listen to.

Strong Love gives the spotlight to a group of voices who felt empowered in the aftermath of the Stonewall riots to be who they are and sing it out and loud; the songs here are specifically and intentionally from the perspective of gay men, without downplaying the importance of any other groups (which the liner notes acknowledge too). Much of the material here was distributed through limited circulation at most, some from acts who never amounted to more than some random songs. Only a few artists featured only ever made it to a major label, with their efforts receiving little promotion partly thanks to their open sexuality and their albums now have a status of little below cult records that have yet to be rediscovered by modern audiences. The succinct but tight fifteen-song selection runs a whole gamut of styles, from celebratory and by default rebellious anthems openly celebrating queerness and demanding equal justice, to pop songs of a various degrees of horniness and a handful of forlorn acoustic laments with writers bearing their souls on the injustices they're living through. Some are joyous, others heartbreaking; some are political and others are more personal, though by default given the subject and the times the personal is also political.

From a more "objective" perspective - judging the music and presentation alone - it's a ragtag selection of competent and often fun songs that bear no shame should they be stood next to any more esteemed peers of theirs from this decade. Robert Campbell's "Dreamboy" is vintage 70s dreaminess that bears the hallmarks of classic studio-focused crossroads where art and pop meet, "Stand Up for Your Rights" (International Gay Society) and "It's Okay" (Blackberri) have that post-flower power funk groove going on with sufficient charisma to have become highlights on any more genre-specific selection, "Big Strong Man in My Life" (Chris Robison) is only a rough demo but would've had the clear potential to be a huge bubblegum smash with some lyrical tweaks, or a non-male singer given the times. The collection throws a few curveballs along the way too, even extending to country (Lavender Country's hilariously sassy "Cryin' These Cocksucking Tears") and cabaret (Scrumby & Martin's "Hots for a Hustler", a drag queen stage show in sound alone) - it paints a vivid picture of a vibrant community of varied musicians who can't be pigeonholed and who refuse to compromise on their individuality. The tones and production values flicker wildly back and forth across the fifteen songs which is kind of fun (and kudos for the compilers for making it work as well as it does), and on surface level it's a chaotic representation of a handful grassroots 70s musicians who never made it big but who could have. That alone makes Strong Love a decently good and interesting listen.

But for a "scene" compilation such as this, the context and concept are vitally important - especially for a collection of this type of theme - and it's the shared spirit throughout that makes Strong Love not just cohesive but also meaningful. Throughout the entire album the connecting thread between the songs is a combination of boldness, bravery and earnestness - everything comes from the heart and the musicians are living the truth they preach in the fullest. Lyrics like "gay is natural / gay is good / gay people should / all come together and fight for our rights" are so blunt that they're from a modern perspective cheesy or even cringy, but put it in the context of a random collective of political youths (Everyone Involved) singing out a statement that few others would with zero desire to hide the message for the masses, and it flips into a genuinely inspiring passage of words. Even the more straightforward love songs sound practically subversive because of a few little choice pronouns here and there, with an impact that countless more contemporary attention-baiting songs wish they had a fraction of. All the songs have such a wide big heart that it strikes a very personal chord, and it makes these generally good obscure 70s pop songs into a whole more resonant bunch. The intimate confessionals obviously benefit from the meaning the most: the genuine heartbreak running through every line of Steven Grossmann listing every in-closet person's nightmares in "Out", the warmth that radiates across Paul Wagner's devoted love song "The One" and the quiet but confident defiance in Conan's "Tell Ol' Anita" and Mike Cohen's "Evil & Lusty" are the most emotional songs of the entire compilation simply because of their unique combination of performance, wider context and intimacy.

 (I have to raise "Tell Ol' Anita" here out specifically for being particularly striking. Aimed at Anita Bryant, a former pageant model who became one of the big faces of the anti-gay rights movement, the final gentle kiss-off which also closes the record is a such a stunning combination of sweetness and rebellion. "Tell ol' Anita / There's nothing sweeter / Than the sound of my lover's name" never fails to give me the chills)

Strong Love is really rather powerful at places, but in an affirming and empowering way. While occasionally melancholy, it's ultimately a joyous album that revels in the self-determined freedom of its songs, and while many of the songs are rough around the edges to some degree there's a beautiful warmth glowing throughout. The relatively small size of the compilation - fifteen songs, fifty minutes - keeps things neatly consistent too and while there's always going to be the odd weaker song in any compilation the pace never gets too disturbed. And in case you're wondering - for me personally it's the somewhat musically heavy-handed titular "Strong Love" itself and the admittedly funky "Hot Magazine" that just don't quite measure up to the rest though it's not too far away either. This compilation seems to have generally flown over many people's radars and it's a shame - not only because it would make some kind of poetic justice to have these messages of love to play out more openly now that they can, but because there's plenty of genuinely great songs here that are treasures waiting to be found whether you're an enthusiast of the decade or not. And if you do find yourself falling in a category that makes this all the more personal to you, then consider this a history lesson; one lead by infectious melodies and a freewheeling spirit of togetherness no matter what.

Rating: 8/10

CMX - Alkuteos (2018)

1) Elementa; 2) Paratiisin Eeva; 3) Puolikas hyvää; 4) Konx om pax; 5) Verenpuna; 6) Sulaneet muovisotilaat; 7) Neljäkymmentä päivää; 8) Alkemisti

Something old, something new, and the return of the classic spirit.

Key tracks: "Elementa", "Paratiisin Eeva", "Sulaneet muovisotilaat"

With some (most?) of my reviews I like to provide an idea of the context behind the albums to give a little insight of how they came to be what they are, especially with these more "regional" releases where most people reading this have little to no idea what this band or album is. It gets a bit trickier with Alkuteos because CMX's website was hacked and deleted off the cyber realm in 2015; when it finally came back, in a typical CMX fashion the band announced they had no desire to spend energy trying to recreate the past and instead their website now (as it still currently stands) is largely just of a list of links on where to buy the latest releases. With the website, we also lost both the official biography where the band retrospectively revisited and reviewed their own past as they gave insight to each studio session, as well as the infamous Q&A page where in-between the band and the fans trying to outsnark one another they'd sometimes drop interesting trivia or detail behind the music when they were in the mood for it. 

That means we have to take some inferred guesses, and I think the genesis behind Alkuteos lies in the band's touring activity prior to its recording. In 2016 CMX took on a concept tour subtitled "Rarely Heard Songs", with the concerts dedicated to b-sides, deep cut album tracks and songs they'd never performed live before; this meant that CMX got back in touch with some of their most erratic work, lost classics that the band had shockingly forgotten about and other songs that fans had begged to hear for years but which had been deemed too difficult to reproduce live thanks to their detailed production and/or keyboard/synthesizer heavy arrangements (CMX having never been a band with a particularly elaborate live setup). The tour was a success, and when in the following year when the band revisited their bonkers space prog opera record Talvikuningas for its 10th anniversary, they brought in another trick from their sleeves. The anniversary concert started with a "Prelude to Talvikuningas" section where the band, all four members now behind synthesizers and laptops, reimagined a number of thematically appropriate songs across the back catalogue. And if you ask me, it's that binge back into the deepest sections of their archives and the adventurous spirit bolstered by successful risk-taking which ignited a particular spark they took to the next album sessions.

I dislike the phrase "return to form" but in some cases it feels appropriate to use. CMX had been slipping across the past few albums, simplifying their form and content to diminishing degrees of success and the band was acutely aware of it as well. Alkuteos is inspired by the band's past selves, and CMX even acknowledge it openly via lyrical references (and one potentially coincidental musical reference - the near-end section of "Verenpuna" is very similar to the ending of Talvikuningas' "Kaikkivaltias" or is that just me?). The prog dials are turned up again and Yrjänä has gone back to cryptic theological prose in his lyrics, to the extent that Alkuteos could easily be read as a biblically inspired concept album - it all seems like a homecoming after years in the wilderness. But CMX are doing their return in their own way and so the 'inspired by' part is really just that, because the sound is fresh. Bringing out their prior synth escapades and inventing the "Elektro-CMX" form (which would continue to appear throughout the Alkuteos tour) has left an imprint on the album and Alkuteos is the most heavy on synths and programmed elements across an entire album's length that the band's ever been. It's not the synth-CMX album some may have hoped to hear one day because the band's clearly present throughout and they are rocking very heavy and hard; but the new elements have a fairly equal slice of the pie of the album's arrangement decisions: the new textures and sounds share an even footing with CMX of yore, and thus despite being reminiscent of the band's past Alkuteos isn't a simple retread. It's almost a hypothetical reset, a record that could have naturally followed up Talvikuningas (the metallic bass twang even feels so in touch with that album's sound world) while bypassing the decade afterwards entirely. 

And for all its inherent mania (it is a very creatively mad album), Alkuteos is impeccably balanced and probably one of the best examples of CMX placing equal weight to, well, everything they're made out of in a single release. You've got your crooked and snarled prog (the chimaira-like couplet "Elementa" and "Alkemisti", "Konx om pax") and your loud and heavy guitars ("Neljäkymmentä päivää", "Puolikas hyvää"), but you also have the lush and welcoming melodic abandon that CMX used to be so wary about and now display so openly (the airy pop of "Paratiisin Eeva", the sky-reaching anthem "Verenpuna"); the warbling, keyboard-focused "Sulaneet muovisotilaat" is almost a brand new direction in its entirely. The indecipherable insanities are in harmony with the immediate choruses, like they had found a hidden formula after all these years; or it's simply the age and experience of a veteran band that has taught them to hone onto everything they are good at. With only eight songs and 45 minutes it's a compact run of songs where not a minute is wasted. It's almost economical in its approach, each of its songs assigned a clear and distinct role in the sequence where they all feel important and each jump out. 

It is a welcome return home. It's the most inspired and exciting CMX have sounded in years, and they sound so inspired and excited themselves between the lines too. When a band reaches back into their past the danger is that they awkwardly try to fit into old clothes that no longer suit them, but CMX have brought back the spirit from their revisit into the past and the songs have a spark that places them alongside any past greats. Even "Puolikas hyvää", the now-expected token single that always shows any CMX album at its most uncharacteristically direct, practically refreshes the ruleset on its ilk because it's so excitingly headbanging it's almost ridiculous, and in the album's grim sterness it's a welcome flash of fun that most clearly reflects how renewed the record feels. "Paratiisin Eeva" is near heavenly in its unashamed ethereal suaveness, the twists of "Elementa" never stop thrilling. "Palaneet muovisotilaat" may be the biggest surprise, unassuming as it is at first glance in its role as a short breather among bigger statements. Its cold sound, drowned in synthetic production, is the furthest the album goes in taking its newest elements but in its heart it's a classic CMX ballad that has been given a new skin, and it makes it sound all the more chilling and yet strangely resonant and impactful.

In real life, I had partway written CMX off at this stage after a string of disappointing albums. They had become a band whose newest releases I'd only listen to thanks to a feeling of old obligation, until even that slipped through the cracks - the release of Alkuteos came and went for me without a single listen. It wasn't until a whim "well-why-not" mid-price bin purchase that it came to my life, and it was honestly a surprise. And having come back to it again for this review, I've been listening to it for a good week while holding off on finishing this review just so I don't have to cross it off my list entirely and I can keep returning to it. It's CMX finding a brand new wind, whether through fresh blood (the new producer Erno Laitinen behind the decks) or by reminding themselves of how great they used to sound by dedicating entire gigs to some of their most creatively wild material - it doesn't matter why, it's simply great that it happened. You could even consider the title of the album a pun, the likes of which Yrjänä loves so much: it translates to "Work of Origin" and while it's more obviously a biblical reference in line with much of the lyrics' theological angle, it's incredibly tempting to also see it as a sly nod for this being a new start.

Let's see if it lasts.

Rating: 8/10

CMX - Cloaca Maxima III (2016)

CD1 (Ilmari): 1) Tuulet ja myrskyt; 2) Uusi ihmiskunta (Videoversio); 3) Punainen komentaja; 4) Kivinen kirja; 5) En tahdo nähdä enää yhtään alastonta; 6) Sateenkaaren pää; 7) Kusimyrsky; 8) Rakkaudessa ja sodassa; 9) Laavaa; 10) Me tulemme kaikkialta; 11) Pedot; 12) Pretoriaanikyborgit; 13) Kappaleina
CD2 (Väinämö): 1) Niin me kaikki mennään; 2) Kain; 3) Iäti; 4) Linnunrata; 5) Tähtilaivan kapteeni; 6) Rikkisuudeltu; 7) Ojai; 8) Rautalankaa; 9) Teräs; 10) Kuolemaantuomitut; 11) Eteläisen tähtitaivaan kartoitus; 12) Laulu todellisuuden luonteesta; 13) Valoa nopeammat koneet
CD3 (Lemminki): 1) Hyökyaalto; 2) Magnetogorsk; 3) Suuri pyramidi; 4) Myrskynkosija; 5) Supersäie; 6) Kirotut; 7) Epätodennäköisyyslaskelma; 8) Vapaus johtaa kansaa (feat. Kotiteollisuus & 51 Koodia); 9) Mesokosmos; 10) Requiem 2012; 11) Vanhan liiton arkkiveisu; 12) Hullut koirat; 13) Mekaanisten lintujen puisto

More singles, album cuts and rare material, but a timespan full of mixed results is reflected here too.

Key tracks: Of the non-album material, "Kuolemaantuomitut", "Rautalankaa", "Mekaanisten lintujen puisto"

It's 2016. Digital formats now hold a stronger foothold than physical formats and streaming has started to take over as the primary method of music consumption for the general public. For those still holding out on physical music, CDs have been branded as the uncool choice and vinyl's baffling return to the mainstream is becoming a real thing. CMX, once a band who balanced unwavering commitment to their own whims with actual commercially successful hits, haven't had a truly popular single for a little over half a decade. The truth is, absolutely no average member of public is going to buy a 3-CD box set of singles, selected album material, b-sides and other extras - not the way they would with the first two Cloaca Maxima compilations and especially when you take into account how the timespan this third part includes one album with no singles, two with zero hits and only few songs they might actually recognise.  

The fact that Cloaca Maxima III exists to begin with is like a fan wishlist prompt, a tradition that needs to be fulfilled now that the band have established this series of milestone marker collections - and maybe that's why in parts it feels like a release done out of obligation rather than desire. Let's face it, everyone is here for the third disc for its rare non-album cuts and those first two CDs dedicated to a reader's digest summary of the last 12 years - once again split between the louder rock songs and softer/subtler material per disc - are more perfunctory in nature. Which would go for some way to explain why a lot of this sounds so slapdash. The flow is abrupt and awkward throughout which is a stark contrast to the well-thought running order of the first two Cloaca Maximas, with "Kappaleina" closing off the first disc being a particularly egregious example that sounds like it was made through shuffle. The selections from the segued-together Talvikuningas haven't been edited with even the laziest of fade-outs and thus they end with a direct crash into a brick wall halfway through a note, which might then explain why only three songs from that record appear here even though it's one of the key albums out of the five featured here. The two new songs aren't that exciting either: the piano-accentuated "Tuulet ja myrskyt" is a perfectly pleasant anthem and "Niin me kaikki mennään" drills really heavily into the radio-friendly suomirock vibe the band had started to fall into in the recent years. Both are fine but stereotypical compilation filler, which CMX had previously avoided. Where the discs dedicated to the old and familiar on the first two CM compilations are still fun to listen as an experienced fan, the impact isn't quite the same here.

That said, the key takeaway from the first two discs are that they act as a convenient collection point for a number of non-album tracks CMX released in the timespan of the compilation, and this time it's actually pretty significant. "Kuolemaantuomitut" was released as a one-off single right before Talvikuningas and it's effortlessly beautiful, gracefully sincere and soaringly yearning: or to summarise it, it's pretty damn huge of an anthem that strikes very particular emotional chords. It's huge and far better than just a random loose single. "Kivinen kirja" and "Rautalankaa" were originally released on the earnest greatest hits compilation Kaikki hedelmät in 2008 and now included here for the benefit of every fan who skipped on that label-mandated release, and while I do like the straightforwardly loud "Kivinen kirja", it's "Rautalankaa" that really deserves the second time in the spotlight. What starts out as a typical CMX-rocker (complete with a pun title which Yrjänä loves, "rautalanka" being the coined term for the particular guitar sound used in the lead guitar riff), as soon as the strings hit it ascends to a whole new level of grandeur that's slightly reminiscent of the golden era classic "Puuvertaus" with its combination of orchestral flair and muscular guitars. The Pedot single "Uusi ihmiskunta" is also presented as its music video version with a guest verse from the Finnish rock legend Tuomari Nurmio, which to my knowledge hasn't been released earlier and while I prefer the feature-less original, having the alternative take in my library is welcomed. 

The much-awaited third disc is... in retrospect kind of obviously a little bit of a letdown, in parts anyway. Both Seitsentahokas and Mesmeria were released after actual single releases had died in the industry and thus any leftover songs from those sessions remained unreleased officially until now. The first half of the 3rd CD is mostly dedicated to previously unheard material from those sessions (touched up after the fact where required) and with those two albums being two of the weakest CMX have released, the outtakes aren't particularly exciting. "Kirotut" and "Epätodennäköisyyslaskelma", two b-sides from the Pedot era are also rather throwaway in nature and in the liner notes Yrjänä admits as much between the lines. Things do get better halfway through, kicked off by the non-album collaboration single "Vapaus johtaa kansaa" with Kotiteollisuus and 51 Koodia - it's a whole lot of unhinged testosterone and masculine thrashing about, and it's a great deal of fun in its unashamed pop-metal flirtations. The incomprehensingly slobbering "Mesokosmos", the nihilist anthem "Requiem 2012" and "Vanhan liiton arkkiveisu" with its half-improv sing-speak verses are all Iäti b-sides but they were finished after the album and they've got a tangled-up weirdness to them that's reminiscent of CMX b-sides of yore. "Mekaanisten lintujen puisto" - "The Garden of Mechanical Birds" - at the end is the undeniable triumph of this collection: it starts out innocously enough if alluringly experimental, with a restless beat and an arrangement heavy on electric piano reminiscent of Radiohead when they were reconstructing their own essence at the turn of the millennium. Then the titular birds appear and the song falls into an abyss of nightmares for the next three minutes. It's maniac, creepy, almost genuinely distressing - and thoroughly brilliant.

The much-touted cover of pop superstar Antti Tuisku's "Hyökyaalto" should probably be acknowledged as well (recorded as an "exchange of pleasantries" after Tuisku covered CMX's "Pelasta maailma" in one of his albums), but in effect CMX just turn it into a very contemporary CMX single that probably could've been on Mesmeria and it becomes yet another example of a rock act covering a pop song that only highlights how the two worlds aren't as far apart as some people might like to think. It's fine and more of a curious footnote than you'd expect; still, more interesting than the Popeda cover "Hullut koirat" that comes and goes without leaving an impression. CMX don't really do covers and maybe these two prove a point why that's the case. 

I guess the slightly lukewarm positivity is to be expected though. The first two Cloaca Maxima compilations felt like natural spots for the band to park on and reflect the prior years, with the covered albums forming clear chapters in the band's history. Here we have one album that could just as easily have been included in Cloaca Maxima II and it would've made perhaps even more sense, another that was a bizarre experimental rock opera that stands as its own weird monolith in the band's story and a set of three records that are loosely combined by the notion of CMX's grip on quality control beginning to loosen. It's all much more of a hodgepodge to make any sense out of together and the diversity in both sound and quality is spread wide. At the end of the day it's a good collection, because combining (some of) the best bits of those five records together and adding some (some) interesting rarities in the mix can't really fail as a recipe. It's just not as captivating as the last two.

Rating: 7/10