Daniela Casa: the definitive sound of Italian giallo cinema
You often have to feel sorry for the composers of library music, who spend all that time composing groundbreaking records only to go unnoticed, underappreciated, or even ignored within a production music library. Due to the nature of these recordings, not much importance was placed upon them when they were made, but thankfully, certain artists were so compelling that they have since managed to eclipse their nameless, faceless careers as library musicians. One such figure is Daniela Casa, who produced a wealth of incredible compositions in Italy during the 1970s.
Italian cinema has always been a pretty great scene, but it embraced some particularly revolutionary practices during the post-war era of cinema. However, the classic stylings of Italian neorealism soon gave way to something much darker and much more DIY: exploitation films. The history of exploitation flicks goes back to the earliest incarnations of film, but they proved to be particularly popular among certain cinema-goers during the 1960s and 1970s. Soon, various subgenres emerged, which further diluted the already pretty vague definition of exploitation films. In Italy, the style of giallo film morphed out of exploitation and was storied by murder mystery, sexploitation, and slasher horror.
The very nature of exploitation and giallo films dictate that they were usually made on a shoestring budget. So, when it came to adding the soundtrack, library music was the obvious choice. After all, these recordings were made by production companies to provide a cheap way of soundtracking media. Enter Daniela Casa, who had begun composing innovative soundscapes for library records during the peak of the giallo cinematic movement.
Casa was a true original within the world of cinematic composition in Italy, pioneering many techniques of home recording brought about by changes in music technology. Her prolific work and infallible artistry placed her firmly alongside fellow composers of the time like Alessandro Alessandroni, Pierro Umiliani, and even Ennio Morricone, but she was rarely afforded the same opportunities, fame, or praise as those figures.
Even during the 1970s, there was still an attitude that female composers were simply not as profound in their work as men. While the likes of Morricone went on to become world-famous composers, Casa’s work was largely resigned to the stacks of library records that sit in the corner of every vinyl shop. That was until recently, when much of Casa’s work was rediscovered, reappraised, assessed, and finally recognised for its true genius.
Given the cutting-edge DIY technology that Casa embraced when constructing these groundbreaking library LPs and soundtrack albums, they fit the tone of giallo cinema perfectly. An unexpected side effect, however, is that these records still sound captivatingly weird and unnerving even in the modern age. Her definitive work, the obscure subscription-only LP Arte Moderna, is perhaps one of the most profound and fully-formed concept albums of all time, yet it remains virtually unknown.
The brilliance of Daniela Casa is a testament to the idea that, when all is said and done, the greatest art will eventually rise to the top. She might not have garnered the same respect as the likes of Alessandroni or Morricone, but her work still stands tall against much of their produce. More than that, Casa blazed a path for an entire generation of female film composers and musicians, spawning countless incredible works – albeit inadvertently.
