The title is a statement of intent, and a bleak one. Ad gloriam — for the glory — because the five of them knew perfectly well that the record was a risk and that it would sell badly. It did sell badly, and it cost them their contract with CAR. Le Orme made their first album in the full knowledge that nobody wanted it, called it that on the sleeve, and then went off and became one of the most important groups Italy produced. This is where it starts, and it sounds almost nothing like where it goes.

The short version

Recorded at the end of 1968 and released in 1969 on CAR Juke-Box, this is Le Orme’s debut. They were a quintet from Marghera, outside Venice: Aldo Tagliapietra sings and plays acoustic guitar, flute and celeste; Nino Smeraldi plays lead guitar and sings; Claudio Galieti plays bass and cello and sings; Tony Pagliuca plays organ, harpsichord and electric piano; Michi Dei Rossi plays drums, timpani, bongos and tambourine. Nine songs, framed by the noises and playful writing of an Introduzione and a Conclusione. Smeraldi co-wrote every single one of them.

Before the trio

The band that would define Italian progressive rock is not quite here yet. They formed in 1966 and had already tasted success as a beat group: the debut single Fiori e colori in 1967, then Senti l’estate che torna, which won at the Disco per l’Estate in 1968 and came out in English too, then Milano 1968, each selling better than the last, with a live reputation built at the Piper in Rome. The line-up settled in late 1968 when the first drummer left and Dei Rossi arrived alongside Pagliuca, from the defunct Hopopi. Galieti left in 1969 and Tagliapietra moved to bass; Smeraldi was not replaced. Five became three, and the three are the ones everybody knows.

The sound

Full beat era, and it could hardly be otherwise for a record from the start of 1969. It is a long way from the progressive splendours Le Orme are celebrated for, and the style they would develop is not easy to make out here — but in places it lays solid foundations for exactly that path. For an Italian album of 1969 it is genuinely quite advanced, and what dominates is Tagliapietra’s voice, already unmistakable. Of all the many Italian bands that came out of the beat era, these are the ones who managed the most convincing evolution across the seventies, and some of the reason is audible here.

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The songs

The Introduzione and Conclusione bracket the record with noise and jokes — the closer says goodbye to the listener with a deliberately silly little song about the band being tired and going to bed, which tells you how seriously they expected to be taken. The title track follows the introduction. Senti l’estate che torna and Milano 1968 are the hits, folded into the album. Mita Mita is dedicated to the actress Mita Medici and takes its music fairly openly from a Bee Gees song of the previous year. Fumo, Oggi verra, I miei sogni, Fiori di giglio and Non so restare solo fill out the rest.

Reception and legacy

It flopped, exactly as predicted, and ended the CAR relationship. And then two things happened. Pagliuca became the first Italian musician to work out that beat was finished and that the symphonic pop arriving from England would shortly be big in Italy — a conviction he confirmed on his first trip to London, where a journalist from Ciao 2001 introduced him to a post-Beatles city full of Quatermass, The Nice, Yes and Emerson Lake and Palmer. He came back to Venice and convinced the others to experiment; they went to the Isle of Wight in 1970 to hear the new wave first-hand. Collage followed in 1971 and everything changed. Meanwhile Ad gloriam quietly became one of the most sought-after and highly valued Italian LPs on the collectors’ market.

The verdict

Worth it, as long as you know what it is: a beat record by a band who had not yet become themselves. The title track first, then Milano 1968, then Fumo. Then Collage, and then everything after. One curiosity that says something about how good the playing actually was: this is one of the most sampled pop albums in history — a British producer lifted a fragment of the title track for a record of his own twenty-five years later, and others followed. An album made for the glory, which got no money, no label and no audience, and ended up in other people’s music anyway.

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