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Musica Per Immagini: An Interview With Marco Ferretti

Thanks for your time, Marco. The Tra Scienza E Fantascienza record is fantastic. We appreciate you taking the time to unearth this gem and release it on your label, Musica Per Immagini. The booming rhythms, plunking guitars, and flanged synthesizers provide an awesome backdrop to Piero’s strange world.

When I first came across the cover of Tra Scienza E Fantascienza (1980), it was love at first sight. About fifteen years have passed since then, and many things have happened. I was a record collector like many others, now I am a journalist, a writer and, above all, a music producer who, with the help of my partner Luigi Giomini, is interested in the rediscovery and reissue of this type of album—no matter the genre or style. At the time, I wondered, first of all, what this record was: a soundtrack or something certainly bizarre, albeit beautiful, with the creature holding a still, placed to the side on this barren, almost desert-like, in some ways lunar, background. And, then, the title of the work, that is, something poised between what is scientific, who knows if even musically, and what is not, so it is the fruit of the imagination or, rather, the creativity of a composer, Piero Umiliani, who tried to hide behind the curious pseudonym ‘Moggi’—which, if I remember correctly, he had borrowed from the surname of the director of a psychiatric hospital.

Piero Umiliani was an authentic genius, improviser, and experimenter. He was a pioneer of electronic music who created unusual music, not necessarily intended as commentaries for documentaries and films, but as archive material for subsequent sound recordings. Albums of original tracks were at the time circulated in very few copies because they were printed as promotional items, often given as gifts to the insiders, or those technicians from the developing world of television who were called upon to use them during audiovisual editing. Even the titles of tracks like “Cowboy Spaziale”, “Officina Stellare”, “Danza Galattica”, “Saltarello Marziano”, “Automa” or “Killer Robot” immediately create a certain kind of imagery for those who approach this library. The music is better, though: a mix of atmospheres that are, indeed, alien, as modern as they are hypnotic, fascinating because they are complex and minimal, to which Giovanni Tommaso, leader of Perigeo, contributed on double bass and Vincenzo Restuccia, father of the pop singer Marina Rei, and among the credits of hundreds of soundtracks, on drums. Three friends in the studio, equipped with all electronic and non-electronic gadgets, and that’s it. My personal fetish, however, is “Bric Brac”, lasting a minute and a handful of seconds which, in retrospect, is a perfect jingle for a television news or radio newspaper.

What drew you personally to want to reissue the record? How did you discover the album? How did you get in contact with the artist/publisher? The logistical details to releasing albums are interesting [to us] because we’re keen to reissue records ourselves!

Before Tra Scienza E Fantascienza (2023) was reissued by Musica Per Immagini, both in standard black, and transparent blue vinyl in collaboration with HHV.de, the album had been the subject of others’ attention, as Beat Records Company had first released it on CD (2013) and We Release Whatever The Fuck We Want had first reissued it on vinyl (2015). Personally, as anticipated, I was already aware of the work, of course thanks to getting information and sounds from the web, so I bought both editions with my eyes closed. There are, however, differences between the Musica Per Immagini edition and the others. We literally poured over the original tapes of the album thanks to the skillful work of our sound technician, Giuliano Radiciotti, thus guaranteeing the best possible sound rendering. In addition, we used the original cover art on the front, not removing the album’s title in red at all. On the back, we have, on the other hand, translated the descriptions of the individual tracks into English, in order to make them understandable to everyone, and I have added a short liner note as a small commentary. We also did not remove the red side band, distinctive of the composer’s cycle of works. The tapes were kindly granted by Piero Umiliani’s daughters, Alessandra and Elisabetta, as was the license for the pieces themselves: they are the ones who manage the composer’s legacy today. Thanks to them, we had been able to republish for the first time, again starting from the pouring over of the tapes, the formidable sonorizations News! News! News! and Atmospheres. An honor for us.

What do you like about Italian film soundtracks? What would you say distinguishes Italian composers from others?

As the author of a book entitled Dissonanze Per Un Delitto. Ennio Morricone Nel Cinema Thriller Italiano (2023), published almost a year ago by Shatter Editions, I can proudly state that Italian composers have been more crafted, brilliant, creative, tightrope walking and, above all, in step with those times than their colleagues from the rest of the world. And Ennio Morricone literally embodied all these adjectives. He was the greatest Italian composer of the 20th century. He was the bridge that connected pop to cultured music and vice versa. He was a kind of superman with a profound work ethic. And, again, he is the example with which to begin a brief reflection. No one comes close to him for a number of reasons, primarily the quality and quantity of works he produced over a long artistic life, but many have shared his same cinematic experiences. There are those who have worked equally profitably within the framework of “high” cinematography, with substantial budgets and important collaborators, expressing themselves in an often exciting way in terms of sound. And there are those who worked, rather, within the framework of “low” cinematography, relying on a variety of gimmicks, in a good sense, to achieve results that, artistically, have little to envy the others. Not all of them had the opportunity to conduct large orchestras and to make use of the best performers or the best equipment then available, yet their soundtracks are “unique,” either in tune with the images of the film at hand or, deliberately, at odds with them, creating a distorting effect that seduces the viewer.

Not everyone had Ennio Morricone’s ability to push the envelope into that creative realm poised between reason and feeling, contemporary music and user-friendly. However, many charted an alternative path through a wide variety of musical genres. The first-generation Italian composers were highly influenced by overseas sounds, while the second and, even more so, the third generation almost broke away from this Hollywood symphonism, preferring a more Mediterranean approach during the golden age of Cinecittà, which incorporated jazz, funk and, finally, even electronic sounds. It can be argued that these composers were not the only ones working in such a way in Europe, however, the difference lies in how this was accomplished. Where the means were not there, ideas prevailed. Winning, innovative, out-of-the-ordinary ideas or, conversely, ideas in line with the sound traditions of others, but revisited, renewed, recycled tastefully and gracefully. Italians do it better.

The passion put into the Italian soundtracks you feature is inspiring. The music is so rich with detail that I imagine the composers even inspire the filmmaker to change or update their film—just to fit the soundtrack better!

There are several stories—and some interesting ones I have included within the pages of my book—about the easy or difficult relationship between film producers and directors and, of course, composers. It did not always go smoothly. Sometimes the filmmakers requested specific sounds from the latter, because it was fashionable at the time or because they were passionate about them, and not necessarily, they were satisfied by the musicians. Sometimes the artists worked in isolation from the former and produced superlative works, or the exact opposite, because that creative dialogue, if not clash, with the commissioner of the work in question—whose final judgment was, in some cases, as feared as it was, unfortunately, necessary for the work to proceed—had been absent. The history of Italian cinema and, of course, the history of Italian film soundtracks has, however, also been characterized by extraordinary artistic ties, if not friendship, between the parties involved. Just think, once again, of the relationship that Ennio Morricone had with Sergio Leone, Giuliano Montaldo, Mauro Bolognini, Giuseppe Tornatore, Elio Petri, and other directors. Just think of the relationship Nino Rota had with Federico Fellini; the one Armando Trovajoli had with both Dino Risi and Ettore Scola; the one Francesco De Masi had with Folco Quilici; the one Piero Piccioni had with Alberto Sordi; the one Piero Umiliani had with Luigi Scattini; what Stelvio Cipriani had with Stelvio Massi; what Dario Argento had with the Goblins; what Franco Micalizzi had with Umberto Lenzi; what Lucio Fulci had with Fabio Frizzi; what Guido and Maurizio De Angelis had with Enzo G. Castellari. These are truly magnificent examples. It is no coincidence that the soundtracks composed by such composers for the films of these directors are memorable. The reason, it bears repeating, is the trust the filmmakers placed in their artists of reference and their ability to translate suggestions or certain preferences into notes. All this contributed to the creation of the “zeitgeist” that made and continues to make the niche of Italian soundtracks so special.

For those looking to experience Italian cinema, do you have any recommendations for a starter pack of films? Do your favorite soundtracks also score your favorite films?

It is not easy to answer your question because, often, low-budget, “minor” films, if not forgotten or even unwatchable, have crazy soundtracks and may not be among my favorites at all. Certainly, those who want to approach cinema and film music made in Italy should dwell, first of all, on Ennio Morricone’s soundtracks such as Per Un Pugno Di Dollari (1964) and Indagine Su Un Cittadino Al Di Sopra Di Ogni Sospetto (1970), respectively for films by Sergio Leone and Elio Petri. The former revolutionized the Italian western, if not the musical concept of the global western strand. The latter is not only iconic, but slavishly follows the exploits of an incredible protagonist, played by Gian Maria Volonté: a sex-crazed policeman and mocking assassin against the Italian State.

Profondo Rosso (1975) and Suspiria (1977) are, likewise, two masterpieces of Italian thriller and horror cinema, both directed by Dario Argento. The Goblin soundtracks are simply perfect and tailor-made to comment on those kind of dreamlike sequences of terror—just as Cannibal Holocaust (1980) and La Casa Sperduta Nel Parco (1980), signed by Ruggero Deodato, are two punches in the stomach; they are two denunciations of human folly that differ in terms of workmanship, accompanied by Riz Ortolani’s grandiose or danceable music.

Polizieschi such as Napoli Violenta (1976) by Umberto Lenzi and Il Grande Racket (1976) by Umberto Lenzi and Enzo G. Castellari, respectively—which even tell true stories experienced first-hand by the citizens of an Italy grappling with “the years of lead”—feature excellently finished scores and the unmistakable sound of Franco Micalizzi and Guido and Maurizio De Angelis. They, in turn, commented on the “fagioli western” penned by Enzo Barboni, namely Lo Chiamavano Trinità… (1970) and Continuavano A Chiamarlo Trinità… (1971).

Also on the supernatural thriller and slasher movie front, I mention both La Dama Rossa Uccide Sette Volte (1972) by Emilio P. Miraglia and Gatti Rossi In Un Labirinto Di Vetro (1974) by Umberto Lenzi, with soundtracks by Bruno Nicolai. A cult favorite of mine is Umberto Lenzi’s Incubo Sulla Città Contaminata (1980), which anticipates certain ideas later made explicit in Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later (2002), with music as roaring as it is atmospheric by Stelvio Cipriani, performed by the Goblin as turntables, an absolute gem.

Lucio Fulci’s Zombi 2 (1979), commented by Fabio Frizzi who, in the company of Franco Bixio and Vince Tempera, composed the scores of true triumphs of bittersweet Italian comedy: namely Fantozzi (1975) and Il Secondo Tragico Fantozzi (1976) by Luciano Salce starring Paolo Villaggio, and, unfailingly, Febbre Da Cavallo (1976) by Stefano Vanzina, a.k.a. ‘Steno’.

Two films to rediscover that feature excellent soundtracks pressed for the first time on vinyl by Musica Per Immagini are, finally, Fatevi Vivi, La Polizia Non Interverrà (1974) by Giovanni Fago and La Settima Donna (1978) by Franco Prosperi. The former is commented by Piero Piccioni in a state of grace, amid syncopated beats and tubular bells, a different mood from that adopted for Luigi Zampa’s comedies starring Alberto Sordi, namely Il Medico Della Mutua (1968) and Bello, Onesto, Emigrato Australia Sposerebbe Compaesana Illibata (1971). The second is, on the other hand, the work of Roberto Pregadio, who was quite “influenced” by the psychedelic sound of Pink Floyd, to the point of imitating it to perfection.

Would you say that labels are more interested in reissuing Italian scores these days? While perusing record stores nearby, I see more reissues today than I recall roughly ten years ago.

Ten years ago, the record market was different than it is today and, numbers in hand, richer in new releases by Italian composers and artists, published at close quarters, and more profitable for those who decided to invest money in the reissue business of soundtracks and music libraries. [The] pandemic was a turning point for many of those in this small world. My partner and I started a few months before the lockdown in Italy and commercially survived. It is paradoxical but, a decade ago, there was more “reception” of the product by the public, including myself, who were more interested in anything “new” that was available on vinyl. Nowadays, it is more difficult to offer something truly “underground”: production costs have increased. Many have certainly tried to jump on the bandwagon of soundtracks and music libraries, to take advantage of the singular “moment” of general visibility, but the players active and, above all, interested in conducting a sort of “rediscovery operation” of this type of product, are limited.

What would you say are some of the most underrated Italian film composers? Any new active composers you recommend that others check out?

I always return to the starting point. Ennio Morricone’s star shone and, four years after his death, will continue to shine for a long time, dimming the brilliance of others. The list of colleagues of his era still less regarded by critics today can be long. It is appropriate, however, to make distinctions on the basis of objective data. The underestimated composer par excellence is probably the one who unfortunately had little chance to work during the thirty golden years of Italian cinema (i.e. from Neorealism to the 1980s) and [only] for minor films, often relying more on inventiveness than on the means at his disposal. One name might be Giuliano Sorgini—whose Musica Per Immagini released the unpublished music commentary for a series of television documentaries on space entitled Sounds From The Far Space (2020)—author both of a fantastic soundtrack with even rock references for a “zombie movie” such as Jorge Grau’s Non Si Deve Profanare Il Sonno Dei Morti (1974) and of those for erotic films set during Nazism. As with other contemporary artists, Giuliano Sorgini’s musical ‘redemption’ was realized, however, by embarking on a career as a composer for the small screen, producing a conspicuous number of music libraries and soundtracks of absolute merit. 

Having said that, if someone like Giuliano Sorgini could be considered now “famous” after a bunch of releases, undervalued, unknown or forgotten artists may be, for example, Ugo Busoni and Gruppo Sound, whose Valvole (2021) and New York City (2024) libraries Musica Per Immagini reissued for the first time on vinyl. 
Today, a young composer to keep an eye on is, on the other hand, Fabio Massimo Capogrosso, author of the soundtracks for the films Esterno Notte (2022) and Rapito (2023) by Marco Bellocchio. Mention of honor, however, for the Genoese duo Pivio & Aldo De Scalzi, active for almost thirty years, fresh from the triptych of soundtracks for Diabolik (2021), Diabolik – Ginko All’Attacco! (2022), Diabolik – Chi Sei? (2023) for the Manetti Bros. cinema and, behind them, the music for eight seasons of the “modern” detective television series L’Ispettore Coliandro (2006-2021).

Your label also released its first brand new material in the album Polarlys by Heinrich Dressel: an inspired score to an imagined North European noir film. Are there any other inspired scores you would like to see that relate to a made up film of your choosing?

As in the case of Heinrich Dressel’s Polarlys (2024), there are and will be other “alternative” soundtracks for existing and non-existing films. One of these, and it promises to be quite special, made by a close friend and inspired this time by the content of a text by Edgar Allan Poe, will be released in the second half of this year or, at the latest, by early next year.

Musica Per Immagini’s releases are mostly vinyl. We love vinyl, but others without a record player can only support the label by purchasing digital copies. Is there a legal/publishing issue that limits releases to only vinyl? Or, are you a die-hard analog purist label?

We are not vinyl purists at all costs but, at the moment, we have not decided to invest in digital when we have signed licensing contracts for the soundtracks and music libraries we have released. There is no legal barrier, it is just a matter of paying extra money to be able to upload the files to your Bandcamp profile. We instead invest more to improve the quality of the collector’s item.

Any new releases or directions to look forward to from Musica Per Immagini?

In mid-July, almost coinciding with the twentieth anniversary of the death of the great Piero Piccioni, his soundtrack to Ti Ho Sposato Per Allegria (2024)—a delicate commentary on a “matrimonial” comedy (1967) by Luciano Salce, still topical in terms of content, with splendid vocals by Edda Dell’Orso—will be released on vinyl for the first time, and in blue color. After the summer, Musica Per Immagini will republish, for the first time, a music library partially edited by a self-taught author and multi-instrumentalist, the first in Italy to play the sitar, already an appreciated guitarist, as well as a valuable collaborator of Ennio Morricone and many others as “whistle man”: namely, Alessandro Alessandroni. After always being interested in Italian applied music, we would also like to look at foreign composers, as we did on the occasion of the release of Joel Vandroogenbroeck’s L’Immagine Del Suono (2023).

Any recommended soundtracks, composers, or fellow labels that we can shout out on the blog?

I hold in high esteem Pierpaolo De Sanctis, head of Four Flies Records, a label to keep an eye on due to several quality releases. Daniele De Gemini, on the other hand, is at the helm of Beat Records Company: a label that remains active for more than six decades, whose unique catalog is worthy of everyone’s attention.

Thank you for your time!

You’re welcome! Keep supporting Musica Per Immagini and Italian libraries and soundtracks!