And now comes Kaikhosru Sorabji, the son of a Parsee father and a Spanish mother, and born in Essex.  I am no seer, and do not say that here is the music of the future;  but I would like to speak of his Opus clavicembalisticum, not as a Sabbatarian Olympus, but as one who certainly is no musical Sadducee:  I concede the possibility of a rebirth of music.

No paper analysis could convey the slightest clue to this extraordinary work for the piano:  it is contained in 252 oblong pages, the music written on three staves and without key signature. The composer cautions us that " accidentals hold good only for notes in front of which they stand with the exception of repeated notes and tied notes."  To me this Opus clavicembalisticum comes as an adventure in fugue making, and music-making of this order should always be a hazard.  The shape of the fugue subjects here before me are those of Bach, figuratively only, but the treatment of the answers is that of Sorabji;  and in it I find much that is new. When the answer is neither strict nor tonal, the 'cautions' made by all previous generations are swept aside, which results in an amazing work.

Sorabji would seem to have studied Busoni to some purpose:  but neither that master nor any other appears to influence this work, except that they both use the same language, as do Pater and the police-court reporter.  I consider Sorabji to have miraculous gifts; and Busoni himself did not fail to speak well of him after he had played his first Piano Sonata.
Things which confuse and torture most men when seeking expression are all so easy to Sorabji:  as was said of William Blake and his Prophetic Books, he is the medium through which angels in spheres far away speak to men.   This suggestion came first from Philip Heseltine years ago when writing of Sorabji in Dent’s Modern Musical History.

This Opus clavicembalisticum is a phenomenon, quite as much as Tristan ever was:  and musicians will appreciate its composer’s uncanny cleverness when they learn that he writes out his enormous piano works and orchestral works direct into full score, and with never an emendation.  Is not the time with us when we should hear Mr. Sorabji play this work? [1]  Could not the Musical Association justify itself by making such things possible?  I offer my congratulations to the publishers, Messrs Curwen, and also to all whose work is included.   The engraving is superb.

My present theme, thus far developed, might suggest that I think music is wholly and commendably a 'progressive' art.  Far from it:  I often sit aside and picture the cavalcade passing, yet rejoicing more and more in those elements that are static.   Music has developed from the early operas of Monteverdi to the thrilling and magnificent works of contemporary Italian and German opera composers, and this movement has been accompanied by the progression of orchestral technique.  The tone of orchestral instruments becomes less and less biting, owing to easier means of production.   The trombone and bass drum alone stand aside from all change.