So, I'll make a general point. However, I must start from our conversation, because one thing needs to be clarified. I introduced Δίκη Wall by writing: here is a beautiful new recording. 'Beautiful' evidently refers to the recording, not to the piece itself. Usually, when I propose a piece in this section of the forum, I try to explain briefly and simply how I see it, for what reason that piece seems interesting to me… In short, I try to provide an interpretation, certainly partial, perhaps even wrong, but something that can be discussed. In the case of Δίκη Wall, no, for a trivial reason: I wanted to propose it because I was interested, but I didn't have time to write anything else.
Oracolo intervenes and writes: “I don’t like it.” What is this, Nutella? I don't like Nutella, fine. But here we are talking about music. Do we want to discuss it? Then let's articulate a thought. What is there to discuss about the fact that you don't like it? There is nothing to say… But then it is perfectly useless to discuss it. Can we imagine something like this referred, I don't know, to Beethoven? Just to mention a name about which no one would have doubts. What sense is there in saying: “I like the Great Fugue,” or: “I don’t like the Hammerklavier at all.” I mean: in the face of such statements—both positive and negative—wouldn't you also, Oracolo, feel some perplexity regarding the ability to get into the merits, and to say what, how, and why, to explain, to discuss, etc.?
So it is clear: I hear “I don’t like it,” and I respond with an even greater triviality, something like “it's beautiful.” Something like that does justice to no one, neither to the Hammerklavier nor so much less to Δίκη Wall. And so let's talk about it, but seriously. You ask me: “Who is there such a great need for?”, and I answer you: for a lot of people. And not just for the few thousand people who listen to “contemporary music”: otherwise it would be truly useless. Instead, here there are things that many would need: I don't say everyone, that wouldn't make sense, but surely here we can find something that is rare to find in our old and weary Western culture. A precise knowledge of what is being done, how it should be done, and why it is being done. In this case, since we are dealing with a composer, the knowledge of sound. And I am not talking about “effects”: everyone uses those. I am talking about the possibility of creating something new, never heard before, and equally comprehensible—perhaps difficult to explain, but comprehensible—where every sound has its place, its function, and its breath; something unexpected and perhaps not pleasant (or at least not immediately pleasant) but endowed with a strength that one does not hear every day.