Black Vinyl. Two giants of Italian library music. Two continents. Fourteen tracks of tribal, ritualistic sound. Musica Per Immagini presents the first-ever vinyl reissue of Alle Sorgenti Delle Civiltà Vol. 3, the final chapter of the legendary Folkmusic triptych originally released in 1971.

Somewhere between the editing suites of Cinecittà and the ethnographic archives of a parallel universe RAI documentary department, two of Italy's most prolific sonic chameleons shed their studio pseudonyms like lizard skin and slipped into the grooves of a record that was never meant to leave the library shelves.

Alessandro Alessandroni - yes, that Alessandroni, the man whose whistle ricocheted through a thousand Sergio Leone sunsets, the conductor of I Cantori Moderni, the secret weapon behind half the Italian soundtracks you've ever loved - and Giuliano Sorgini, the shadowy architect of a hundred unreleased fever dreams, here disguised as Braen and Raskovich for reasons known only to the licensing gods of 1971.

This is the third and final volume of the Alle Sorgenti Delle Civiltà trilogy, and if you thought Italian library composers approaching African and Oceanian folk traditions might result in some polite armchair anthropology, you clearly haven't been paying attention. This is not the Discovery Channel. This is something far stranger - a collision between Mediterranean studio wizardry and the imagined rituals of distant lands, filtered through oscillators, bongos, and whatever else was lying around the Folkmusic studio that week.

Fourteen tracks of propitiatory ceremonies that never happened, tribal initiations from the cutting room floor of your subconscious, sacred dances choreographed by men who'd probably never set foot south of Naples. And yet (and here's the trick) it works. It works because Alessandroni and Sorgini weren't interested in authenticity; they were interested in feel. In the way a gourd shaker and a fuzzed-out bass could conjure the heat shimmer off a savannah you've only seen in Mondo films. In the way a wordless chant and a rattling percussion loop could make you believe in rituals you'd never witness.

This is armchair ethnography as fever dream. Documentary music for films that exist only in the space between your speakers. The vinyl has been silent for over fifty years. Musica Per Immagini is turning up the volume.