Watching Jess Franco’s particularly crack-brained 1972 sexploitation cash-in on ‘The Devils’ and ‘Mark of the Devil’ for the first time, most viewers will be especially struck (and likely amused) by post-production supervisor Gerard Kikione’s decision to demolish the film’s almost shaky period setting via the application of masses and masses of pungent psychedelic rock… and lo and behold, all these years later, here it all is on vinyl, lovingly pasted together by Finders Keepers.

Largely pulled from French composer Jean-Bernard Raiteux’s ‘Trafic Pop’ album, the cues used for ‘Les Demons’ pulse with pungent, historically inappropriate jazz-funk beat-downs, alongside eerie piano meanderings, wistfully priggish flute/guitar concoctions, absolutely STINKIN’ fuzz-wah freak-outs and, well, everything that makes the early 1970s the unquestioned high watermark of Western civilisation, basically – all served with a generous side order of witch-finder ranting, witches’ curses, lashing, beating, screaming and, uh… more lashing, beating and screaming.

As was the case with some of Finders Keepers’ Jean Rollin soundtrack releases a few years back, the label’s presentation of the material will no doubt have many serious soundtrack aficionados grinding their teeth to a bloody pulp as a result of audio that seems to have been pulled at least partially from the film print itself, as is clearly signalled by the utterly gratuitous chunks of fruity English dub dialogue and sadistic sound effects liberally scattered throughout. Meanwhile, FK’s apparent decision to rename tracks previously featured on the ‘Trafic Pop’ album to reflect the scenes they soundtrack in the film seems decidedly questionable, and could no doubt raise further consternation from those aforementioned serious soundtrack types, together with much potential confusion for those of a scholarly disposition… but no matter.

For us more casual listeners, it’s lovely to have the chance to enjoy this stuff purely as a long lost Jess Franco OST, packaged and sequenced in entirely the manner it might have been had the great man’s terminally marginal, shadily distributed films proved a hot enough ticket in the early ‘70s to justify the release of their own historically inappropriate Tarantino-esque mass market soundtrack LPs.

Another instant room clearance device, a perfect Halloween party disc, a further chance to convince your neighbours that you’re a heinous pervert, or just another reminder of the singular world of creation that spun around the axis of that sainted sinner Jesus Franco – take it however you wish… but take it!

Buy directly from Finders Keepers here.

Labels: best of 2016, comps & reissues, Finders Keepers, Jean-Bernard Raiteux, library music, soundtracks

Picking up this reissued Italian library disc as an entirely blind buy (how could I not?), I must admit I had my fingers crossed for some H. Tical/‘Distortions Pop’ type heavy rock freakouts, or some foot-tapping, Bruno Nicolai-esque weirdo-giallo jams – but for better or worse, it turns out maestro Iacoucci was going more a rather more literal and primal interpretation of the term “psychedelic”.

As such, proceedings opens with some weird tone generator stuff that sounds like a pair of Clangers attempting to sing opera, before subsequent pieces bring in harpsichord, piano, scittering free drumming and stridently atonal bass for some studio-warped “jazz on the moon” type shenanigans that might have escaped from the more fragrant end of Sun Ra’s planet of sound. Climbing-the-mountains-of-Mars reverbed kettle drum crescendos are up next, then bleeping sci-fi movie sonar noises, before the flip-side opens with something that briefly sounds like one of those atonal nightmare dirges that Morricone used to bust out for gialli soundtracks… and then it’s back to Moon Base Alpha again for laughing gas cocktails in the jazz capsule.

Basically then: if you’ve ever felt the urge to create a parody of an aggressively experimental Italian library music album from the early 1970s (a pretty niche audience for those laffs, I’m guessing), give up immediately - ‘Simbolismo Psichedelico’ already covers that ground so perfectly as to render your efforts surplus to requirements.

To be honest, only a maniac would be likely to deem this LP ‘essential’, and with so much of this kind of way-out weirdness popping up in the reissue racks these days, I’m not sure that ‘Simbolismo Psichedelico’ will claim much space in many listeners’ lives. Although there are moments here that arguably break through to the increasingly busy plateau of “long lost avant garde genius”, the more persistent feeling is that of “a couple of blokes farting about in the studio for the few days after the boss demanded ‘something spacey and psychedelic’”. But, well, I dunno - I like it nonetheless. It’s quite the mood-setter, that’s for sure – especially if the mood you tend to favour is one in which everyone else leaves the building, leaving you to watch a Czech sci-fi movie in peace. Score.

You can listen and download directly from Intervallo’s bandcamp, or check Discogs for the vinyl.

Labels: best of 2016, comps & reissues, Gerardo Iacoucci, Italy, library music