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When people want to praise a composer\u2019s music they often say \u2018it\u2019s instantly recognisable\u2019. But saying something is instantly recognisable is a back-handed compliment, because it\u2019s a quality that\u2019s actually not so hard to achieve. You just need to invent a few \u2018tricks\u2019 or mannerisms and repeat them endlessly.<\/strong><\/p>\n Harrison Birtwistle\u2019s music is indeed instantly recognisable, but not because it\u2019s always the same. In fact the variety of his music is extraordinary. There\u2019s the muffled sadness of Nenia: the Death of Orpheus<\/em>, where the three clarinets and piano move hesitantly in a perpetual twilight, tinged with the silvery sound of bells. There\u2019s the frightening power of his opera The Minotaur<\/em>, where the thundering percussion and growling bass portray the power of the tormented, misunderstood beast, trapped in his labyrinth.<\/p>\n There\u2019s the savage energy of The Axe Manual<\/em>, where the pianist and percussionist caper in a dance of weirdly off-kilter rhythms. And there\u2019s the incredible complexity of the later orchestral works such as Earth Dances<\/em>, where the layers of music evoke natural processes unfolding at their own different speeds.<\/p>\n