How do you describe the music of Sorabji to someone unfamiliar with his extraordinary world? It is 'classical music' in the sense that to play it requires the huge training and dedication demanded of the concert pianist. And in that sense it is classical music at the pinnacle of ambition and accomplishment. But really, it is something else of its own kind, sui generis. Hyper-modern without being modernistic, yet with fabulously ancient roots. To hear Sorabji is like discovering the derivation of Einstein's field equations to be embedded in illuminated manuscripts from twelfth century Persia, or as though looking very closely at a Jackson Pollock was to reveal each splotch to be a Chopin étude. His music somehow embraces all of civilisation down to its origins, while at the same time taking us into the farthest depths of the starry realms. In his fourth sonata, which despite hearing a dozen times I have yet to scratch the surface of, one is keenly aware of the tendency, there before but now becoming the form itself, that for most of the time, we are listening to two hands. This in a way unlike any other piano writing I know of. Much of the meaning of the music is to be found in the tension between what at times sounds like two players on two instruments, drifting in and out of phase and harmonic synchrony with each other. What each hand is playing would stand up on its own as standard Romantic repertoire, but it is in the variation of their mutual reinforcement and antagonism of each other that much of the musical content lies. The result is neo-classical music of forbidding complexity, expressive of profound organisation teetering on the brink of collapse into chaos. It is mathematical music, indeed higher mathematical music, and as with Bach at his most sublime, its glory is in the pulse quickening pleasure of intellect operating at its peak of effectiveness. I have probably said enough now to clarify who and who will not have a taste for this variety of strange and exotic sublimity.