The Italian-born London-based producer, songwriter and DJ opens up on her love for Italian forbidden cinema and how it shaped her life and artistry.

Over the last decade, System Olympia has captured the attention of an international audience, and of London in particular, with a personal reinterpretation of Italo and synth disco, which blends with a poetry that unabashedly chases desire. However, her origins lie in southern Italy, in Reggio Calabria, where Francesca Macri – this is her real name – grew up in a family that was far removed from the world of music enthusiasts.The only cassette to be found in her home was Il Meglio di Lucio Battisti Vol.2, the second instalment of the Italian singer-songwriter’s best of. One could wonder how the elaborate and delicate melodies of Battisti came to influence the lustful and ethereal take on Italo disco that define System Olympia’s prolific output. No doubt the lyrics penned by Mogol for Battisti spoke about love, but a tender, almost prude and adolescent one. 

Francesca’s epiphany came in fact in the form of Tinto Brass, the legendary director who went from avante-garde films to, well, another type of auteurism, that of erotica, of which Brass is still regarded as an undisputed master. A man who elevated voyeurism and lust on the big screen to art. 

An occasional and premature encounter with one of his film ended up influencing the poetics of Francesca, which since 2017 – under the stage name of System Olympia – has been shaping her own universe across four albums, a record label Okay Nature, and a show on NTS Radio which has become an instant cult, where retro Italian tracks blend with contemporary, dancefloor-oriented jams to the smooth voice of the host: an invitation to sin.

System Olympia prominently rose to international recognition, starting from her 2020 debut album Delta of Venus, whose title paid homage to the same-titled collection of erotic short stories written in the 1940s by Änais Nin for a private collector, but published posthumously in 1977. A conceptual manifesto that was paired by a sonic once, made of dreamy synth, lustful pads and kinky disco trips. Three more followed, culminating in 2023 acclaimed New Erotica Collection. The cover depicts a close-up of a female body, illustrated in the style of old-fashioned film posters, in the act of giving herself pleasure. Her hands are slim, the nails sharp and decorated by lustful red varnish. An opulent scene, dripping in vintage erotica, just like the flowing silky red sheet the figure is laying upon, and her chunky diamond ring.

Her artworks are always at play between the aesthetics of 1970s and 1980s forbidden cinema and the playful transgression that accompanies Olympia’s public (as well as private) image, where freedom reigns over any form of bigotry. The one she nonchalantly fights on social media, despite the continuative shadowbans to her account.

However, lust is always tender with System Olympia, just like the soft-spoken, whispered vocals she gifts her compositions with. A lesson learnt from no less than Ennio Morricone’s soundtracks. 

System Olympia is the artist who remixed “What Can I Do” by Stelvio Cipriani, included in Eli Roth’s Red Light Disco, the latest release by CAM Sugar. Ahead of the release of the track, on Friday, we spoke with her to go deeper into her relationship with Italian forbidden cinema and its music.

CAM Sugar Journal: Your imagery flirts with eroticism, bringing together its retro iconographic dimension with contemporary sensibilities, even on a musical level. What does it represent for you?

System Olympia: My imagery represents the world I want to live in, sometimes in front of my eyes, and sometimes behind them. It is made up of everything I see and want to see, filtered through my emotions. Like a sea sponge at the bottom of the ocean, it filters the seawater that passes through and then spits it out with its own flavour inside.

CSJ: In this regard, has the cinematic universe influenced your artistic journey in any way? 

SO: Tinto Brass’s films, which I probably watched a bit too early, were the first to show me desire – naked. It doesn’t mind being a little bit wrong. Ennio Morricone’s romantic soundtracks taught me what love is. If it doesn’t sound like a beautiful melody, I’m not interested.

CSJ: Italian sexy comedy films from the ’70s and ‘80s, as well as sexploitation cinema, however, can present certain issues when rewatched today. How do you relate to them, and what elements do you think still hold relevance?

SO: The current relevance lies in the representation of desire, which is something that transcends time. We can change its tone, its context, and its dynamics, but it is an unstoppable constant of the universe. It is the mysterious force that has made everything move since the beginning of time.

CSJ: Speaking of which, you remixed “What Can I Do”, a sexy disco track by Stelvio Cipriani, which was included in CAM Sugar’s latest release Red Light Disco. How did you approach it?

SO: Unfortunately, I only had access to the master file and not the individual tracks, so I couldn’t do everything I would have liked for the remix. I used artificial intelligence to separate the vocals. The result is more of an edit that I played over, rather than a true remix.

CSJ: This shows how relevant this music can still be. In conclusion, what do you think the strongest legacy of the soundtracks of Italian erotic cinema is?
SO: The art of representing desire, from Libidine by Stelvio Cipriani to Rocco Siffredi’s porn films. The eternal ability of Italian composers to connect sex with emotions, keeping them separate as distinct entities but making them dance together, and sometimes even blending them, through music.

System Olympia’s remix of “What Can I Do” by Stelvio Cipriani is out from Friday, March 28th, on all digital platforms.