No need to be precious about it—this is the model for Broadcast, down to the clavinets and barbiturate singing. There are a half dozen other early analog synth devices in here, along with this low-key everyday horror queasiness. It’s not the Bernard Herrmann school of scaries—no way. Komeda is the lounge casual of horror. This is elegant stuff, jazzed out absinthe hallucinations, never dropping the pocket square. The terror here is some Carnaby Street shit, no gore and rubber masks here. Some of my favorite moments are when the strings and horns do gothic little cues and somebody gets all improv on upright or guitar. Lots of late Sixties flowing through this, Valium and Mia Farrow (at least the latter for sure). Truly magical.