Is it possible, after something has been beaten into pop-culture uselessness by the hipsterati, not only to still love it but to expose people to new facets of its greatness? Morricone went through a supernova spell of cool a few years back: Dozens of his obscure '70s scores received deluxe reissues, a blind eye was turned to his later, more predictable material and, of course, everyone and his post-rock brother claimed him as an influence. Why on earth would Mike Patton, whose cutting-edge tastes are widely revered, bother putting out a Morricone compilation in 2005? Simply put, Patton's passion for Morricone is based on just how screwed-up his music could get. This double-disc set brings together some of the Italian master's most out-there pieces, and most of it sounds like music for a "horrifying nightmare of drugs" scene. From the distorted choral haze from L'Istruttoria E' Chiusa: Dimentichi to the stunningly avant-garde noise in Il Serpente to the fractured, squealing crime-jazz from Una Lucertola con la Pelle di Donna, this disc proves that insanity is timeless.