Notes from an Alchemist’s Laboratory: How Four Flies Records Resurrected The Electronic Man

Transmission 276: Interview with Pier Paolo De Sanctis on Umiliani’s “L’Uomo Elettronico”

Piero Umiliani was an Italian composer and musician, known for his extensive work in film soundtracks and his foundational role in Italian jazz. Beyond his more recognized compositions, Umiliani cultivated a deep interest in electronic sound. His personal studio, the Sound Workshop, became a laboratory for sonic alchemy, where he experimented with synthesizers and tape machines to create futuristic textures.

This work resulted in a significant body of library music and more introspective, scientific-sounding pieces. The compilation L’Uomo Elettronico, released by Pierpaolo De Sanctis‘s label Four Flies Records, gathers selections from this specific area of his output, showing a darker and more experimental dimension of his musical character.

How did your relationship of collaboration and trust with the Umiliani family come about for the enhancement of such an important archive?

I approached Umiliani’s work as a fan, starting from the most famous titles, connecting his name to soundtracks and already recognizing him as a great composer of the 60s and 70s. Before founding the label, I met Francesco Argento, the husband of one of Umiliani’s daughters, who was my mentor at the beginning. He had curated the first website dedicated to Umiliani, doing important research work, cataloging records and titles by period and being the first to historicize his work in an almost maniacal way. We became friends and I immediately confided in him my project of wanting to make a documentary about the maestro, so it was quite natural to then reissue some of his records when I founded the label.

When you first got your hands on the Umiliani archive to conceive the “Studio Umiliani” collection, what was your first impression? Did you feel more like an explorer in unknown territory or a curator with a clear idea already?

The goal was always to look for something never seen before and I was aware that some of his scores were inaccessible. From there I listened to the tapes from their archive, the Liuto archive, and the surprise was gigantic. It was a work of study, passion, and human sharing, in which I relied on the maestro’s notes kindly granted by his daughters, Elisabetta and Alessandra, and I learned to put the tapes directly on the Revox for the first time. I think I was the first person outside the Umiliani family to have access to that heritage. Studio Umiliani was the first compilation of unreleased material after years of silence since the last publications in the 90s, and it brought Umiliani’s name back to the center of attention. I like to think I made that contribution.

“I think I was the first person outside the Umiliani family to have access to that heritage.”

Among the many possible paths, why did you feel the urgency to tell the story of the “Uomo Elettronico“? What aspect of his production did you absolutely want to bring to light with this collection?

“L’uomo elettronico” was born from my desire to bring out his almost artisan-like work, the essence of his laboratory as a sound alchemist. As soon as a new electronic instrument came out, Umiliani had to experiment, which is why so much library music was produced; the sound was ahead of its time, projected into the future, and in general, the productions of the 60s and 70s had this almost unheard-of sound, which stands outside of time. I wanted to make a collection that distanced itself from the electronic compilations of the era, which were too cheerful and colorful, one with a more scientific attitude, also including the depths of the darkest human emotions, which Umiliani knew how to capture very well. These were tracks composed and played during the Years of Lead; you could feel an underlying tension. L’uomo elettronico is a 70s treatise on Umiliani’s electronics; it’s like hearing Aphex Twin twenty years earlier.

The tracklist is a journey that ranges from pure experimentation, library music, and almost proto-techno atmospheres. With what narrative criterion did you select and order the tracks?

The collection of tracks is a continuous listening flow, conceived as a tracklist to be listened to in a single play. I wanted to curate the transitions from one track to another; perhaps this comes from the fact that I am a cinephile, so for me, the tracklist is like a film, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. I have to put them in sequence, to narrate.

“I wanted to make a collection that distanced itself from the electronic compilations of the era, too cheerful and colorful, one with a more scientific attitude, including also the depths of the darkest human emotions.”

The collection contains three unreleased tracks. Can you tell us about the moment of their discovery? What emotion does one feel finding and listening for the first time to an Umiliani track that has remained silent for decades?

For the unreleased tracks, there was a huge thrill. At the time, I didn’t even think unreleased tracks could exist; I thought all the work had already been done, but today I know that who knows what else might turn up. The track that moved me the most is “Lavorazione a mare,” which is a very simple repeated pattern with echoes, hypnotic and suggestive, dreamlike.

The title, “L’Uomo Elettronico,” evokes an almost science-fiction imagery. Is it a title you chose or was it already present in some form in Umiliani’s notes?

Perhaps with the title “L’uomo elettronico,” I wanted to give this idea of a link between a music professional of the 70s and the technology of his time. It’s a man-machine relationship, as if the synthesizers were the means of production and Umiliani the engineer, almost a Marxist relationship, and perhaps the title is a bit Marxist, I was just thinking about it as I speak. The track titles are descriptive titles that arise from reflections on the images evoked by listening to the track. “L’uomo elettronico” in particular is a science-fiction title and was not mentioned in any of Umiliani’s found notes.

“L’uomo elettronico is a 70s treatise on Umiliani’s electronics; it’s like hearing Aphex Twin twenty years earlier.”

In the years when these tracks were composed, there were other electronic experimenters in Italy. Where do you place Umiliani’s work in this historical context? Was he an isolated pioneer or was he in dialogue with the scene of the time?

Umiliani in the 70s was not the only pioneer; there were also Carnini, Brugnolini, Tommasi, Safred, to name a few, and they also produced tracks that were light years ahead. In my head, they had fun like children getting their hands on electronic instruments; there was a real playful relationship. Names like Giuliano Sorgini, Fabio Fabor, have influenced entire generations. However, they were isolated cases; there wasn’t a real Italian scene. Perhaps Umiliani was the most recognized, his works were the most used, he has a massive production behind him.

Beyond the tracks that were actually published, what has been the most surprising discovery made among Umiliani’s tapes?

The most interesting discovery has yet to be published! There are many works that will be published sooner or later, which belong to other publishers. However, most of the most important titles have been published. Some lost unreleased tracks remain, for example, the complete soundtrack of “Baba Yaga,” of which we have only released a 7″. Another title I am fond of is “La schiava io ce l’ho e tu no,” an incredible and outdated title today, which we managed to release in time, starting from the official tapes found in the La Cometa studio.

Photos courtesy of Four Flies Records