The sad truth, though, is that this crush has always been unrequited. Or, when it has been returned, it has been in the form of a seedy and unrewarding hotel-room fling. Take it as a rule of thumb that the more heavy metal Dario Argento uses on his soundtracks, the worse his films will be. If you want my theory as to why this may be, it’s because they are essentially the same thing. Both thrive on confrontation and extremity for the sake of confrontation and extremity. Both depend on a love for (or at least interest in) the dark side. Both gleefully juxtapose baroque virtuosity with thuggish violence. Basically, scoring a horror film with metal is like incest.

On the other hand, electronic has had a far more enduring appeal in horror, I guess thanks to its ability to present something seemingly sedate and ambient but with a few knob-tweaks introduce undercurrents of menace in a way that is too subtle for metal. Which brings us to this. They are called Zombi, named, of course, after the Lucio Fulci classic. But there’s more to it than just that; musically, Spirit Animal is full of the kind of shuffling prog-synth voyages that Fabio Frizzi developed on Zombi 2 as well as other Fulci works such as L’Aldila. This is very much the character of the title track in particular, which is far and away the best thing here. It opens with the exact same sort of ponderous, seemingly tame synth progression, using intensely retro sounds, with heavy, heavy 1970s Euro-exploitation vibes. But, as it progresses you realise that there’s something very plaintive, and even graceful about this (as there is with Frizzi’s work). Over its 14 minute running time it ascends various climactic crescendos without ever accelerating, achieving a real sense of drama through the clever use of tension-building harmonic shifts and surprisingly powerful instrumentation (real electric guitars, bass and drums feature heavily alongside the massive electronics). At times, it almost sounds like a reworking of Zombi 2’s title track, but dragged triumphantly into 21st century daylight.

So, that’s the high point, but the rest of it is very worthwhile as well. Spirit Warrior is intense and rhythmically complex, heavily reminiscent of Goblin’s more energetic synth material, and allowing A. E. Paterra plenty of showing-off room on drums. Cosmic Powers is another insistent, polyrhythmic workout. Closing epic Through Time brings us towards “sorta-nearly metal” territory, with a deep, squelchy, sludgy tone.

It’s a curious band to have on a label like Relapse, and indeed to review on this site. It’s the kind of sound that, in the wrong hands, will become artless and dull. Part of me worries that the reason I dig this is because it reminds me so intensely of cinema’s true golden age, by which I mean the Italian zombie/exploitation cycle of the late 1970s/early 1980s. But yeah, there is more to it than that. It’s a clever album which packs a punch that is far heavier than you’d imagine from its parts and concept.