For a few dollars less
First commercial release of Il Maestro’s soundtrack to a forgotten 1964 Lucio Fulci comedy. By Andrew Male.
Ennio Morricone I Due Evasi Di Sing Sing SONOR MUSIC EDITIONS. DL/LP
BY 1964, Ennio Morricone had already been working as an arranger and composer for 14 years. A Rome-born child prodigy, who wrote his first compositions when he was just six years old, he had moved from pop and jazz through theatre and radio, ghosting for other name composers before working on his first official film score in 1960. In 1961 he worked on three films. By ’64 that number had risen to at least 13. The next year it would rocket to over 20. However, as any true fan of Il Maestro knows, alongside recognised masterpieces from this period such as A Fistful Of Dollars and Bertolucci’s Before The Revolution sit lesser works that were compromised by time, genre or the aesthetic demands of the director. Still, Morricone, who aligned himself more with avantgrade composers such as Luciano Berio and Luigi Nono, insisted that he approached every assignment “with the highest professionalism and commitment [finding] room for quality and… a personal touch.”
So, what are we to make of this rediscovered score for a little-seen Italian slapstick comedy from a director better known for horror and giallo films, music only ever previously released on an impossible-to-find library record promo in the late ’60s? Well, there are gems here. Bracketed by the big-band orchestral Bernstein jazz blasts of Titoli and Finale you’ll find lonesome Mel Tormé-style ballad Oh Little Birdie (sung by frequent Morricone collaborator Maurizio Graf), some slinky Chico Hamilton-esque noir jazz with vibraharp (Incontro Die Boss; Fuga), a flute and guitar bossa (Bossa Per Gloria) and an eerie minute-long harp glissando (Il Tempo Che Passa).
Sadly, you also get two of Morricone’s least enticing sub-genres, ragtime piano roll (Ballerine) and three Sousa-style military marches (Le Sedie Elettriche, Marcia and Marcia No. 2). Of course, we’re dealing with a comedy film, and both styles suggest a certain kind of knockabout fun, but similar deadening pastiches are even found in Morricone’s finest scores. They amused him, even if they no longer amuse us.
Morricone completists won’t care, arguing historical importance and the fact that the highs outweigh the lows. They’re right, but this is a reminder that not every long-lost album is a rediscovered classic.