Easy Tempo

Or, bad films with good music…

Though Right Tempo's ten volume series of Italian film music from the 1960s and 70s may well have gained many of its listeners from the irony-drenched retro lounge scene of the late 1990s, the truth is that the overall quality of the music presented within transcends the easy listening label in charm and imagination.

Unsusprisingly, Volume 1 is not a bad place for the novice listener to begin their musical journey. With no really bad tracks on the disc and orchestration and playing never less than competent, stand outs include Armando Trovajoli's febrile Sessomato ("Crazy Love") with its infectious breathy female vocal, Guido and Maurizio De Angelis's trashy and catchy Gangster's Story and a taster from Gianni Ferrio's "Death Walks at Midnight" that makes one want to check out the full OST in its own right.

Volume 2 introduces the idea of grouping the compliations by theme, presenting "The Psycho Beat". It's an ambiguous phrase that might be taken to refer to musical psychedelia or to the gialli genre with its omnipresent psycho killers. Nino De Luca's Girl With a Gun – the phrase panning left to right over a twangy sitar-type backing – tends towards the former, as does Mario Molino's Gli Angeli del 2000, with its mix of Louie, Louie guitar riff, chimes and burbling synth noises somehow strangely reminiscent of The Simpsons's theme. Whatever the case, this is a solid, slightly left of centre collection with other stand out cuts including Lee Selmoco Orchestra's Blue Media with its cool lounge jazz feel; the chocka-chocka guitar, farty brass and beweep synth of Gianni Oddi's Geronimo, and Molino's brash, bold Shake Psyco.

"Further cinematic easy listening experiences" is the subtitle of Volume 3 and indicates the mood of this collection, which has a more Latin feel than its predecessors. Piero Piccioni's I Cavalli is seductive and slinky; his namesake Umiliani's Bob E Hellen takes the male and female doop de doop vocals about as far as they can go without becoming a Zappa-esque parody, while Agusto Martelli's Beryl's Tune amusingly combines a flute main theme with sitar twaang counterpoint. Not my favourite disc, but not bad either.

Volume 4 presents "a kaleidescopic collection of exciting and diverse cinematic themes". A wide range of styles is showcased, though fortunately the one thing that is consistent is the overall high standards. Highlights include Florinda Bolkan's vocal version of Metti Una Sera A Cena and the Italian take on American smooth jazz funk lite in Robert's Theme – "there's no hope. You know you're all alone" – complete with moaning sax line.

One noticeable absence till Volume 5 had been Ennio Morricone, the name most listeners will imediately associate with Italian cinema of the 60s and 70s. This "slammin' cinematic experience" introduces il maestro in the best manner possible with the brilliantly trashy Adonai, perhaps the track of the series. Blending Hebrew liturgy with reverb guitar, chimes and cheesy keyboard line it has to be heard to be believed. Elsewhere, the likes of Stefano Torossi's Running Fast, with its incessant beat; Trovajoli's funky Blazing Magnum; Augusto Martelli's eight minute epic grower Loco Love Motor, and some outstandingly tight, subtle drumming on Piero Piccioni's La Rai Si Presenta make this a solid entry, even if Dick Oliver's cover of James Brown's The Chicken feels ill-advised.

Volume 6, "a cinematic jazz experience" is, for whatever reason, probably my least favourite. Perhaps it's the relatively conventional, straightforward nature of the cuts on offer – compare Umiliani's Night in Algeria here to his inventive cover of Caravan on his Tribute to Duke Ellington disc – but I just find many of the tracks on this one lacking that distinctive Italian vibe so in evidence elsewhere and, as a result, don't stick it on anywhere near as often as the others. This said, the disc is not without its merits, such as Gianni Ferrio's Concerto Blues, with its intriguing appropriations of a Tchaikovsky piano concerto.

Volume 7, "the bikini beat" is one of my favourites. Though there maybe aren't any tracks that really stand out, there are no weak spots either: it's a consistent collection of joyous "shake beat" entries from reliable names like Gianfranco Reverberi – the "wall of sound" styled opener "Malizie di Venere" – Piccioni – how can one not love a song called "Topless Party" – Ortolani and Trovajoli – the delightful "Decisione".

Volume 8, subtitled "cinematica!! different musical horizons" opens with one of Bruno Nicolai's Morricone imitations, "Autosrade per Los Angeles" – never a bad way to start. Some of the succeeding tracks, like Walter Rizzati's Baei des Anges and Alberto Balban Bembo's Tema di Barbara, are too easy-cheesy for my tastes but there are also some real gems like Fred Bongusto's The World of the Blues with its mournful jazz-blues vocal stylings, while foot-tapping polyrhythmic bossa beats, driving basslines, brass stabs, cool soloing and even some wacka-wacka guitars are in evidence elsewhere. The cover and interior artwork by famed fumetti artist Guido Crepax also warrants a mention.

Volume 9 is a bit of a mixed bag. On the plus side there are some good entries like Gianfranco Piezino's Minor Jazz Number Two and Lesiman's Play Car – the Future Sound of Lesiman CD is highly recommended – but these are somewhat counterbalanced by a couple of less satisfactory remixes from Gak Sato, a dancefloor version of Berto Pisano's Kill Them All that omits the best part of the original in Doris Troy's delirious vocals, and a needless retooling of Goblin's Death Dies with intrusive congas and monkey chattering. Still, anything with a scorching live version of Piccioni's Colpo Rovente – living up to its English AKA of Red Hot – and Crepax artwork can't but win through overall.

Volume 10, "end titles" marks the end to the series with neither a flourish nor a whimper. Opening with a long version of Piero Umiliani's delightful theme for Five Dolls for An August Moon and elsewhere including an alternate near eight minute take of the classic Metti Una Sera Cena along with Stelvio Cipriani's Femina Ridens, with an all-attitude female vocal from Olympia – who is she, I want to hear more of her deliciously accented English – there's some good stuff here. Elsewhere, however, one wonders at the inclusion of French composer Philippe Sarde's On Ce Voit Ce Soir and can't decide whether new names like Vittorio Paltrinieri, Carlo Pes and Gino Conte are present to encourage adventurous listener to seek out fresh obscurities or second stringers brought in because the back catalogue of Umiliani, Piccioni, Trovajoli and company was starting to run a little thin.

All told, these discs are infectious. If the Italian movie music bug bites, be prepared to spend a lot of money tracking down CD reissues (Easy Tempo) and compilations (Lounge at Cinevox, Beat at Cinecitta, Loungeissima, Women in Lounge) in search of that elusive alternate take…