‘When you or I look out a window we’ll see more or less the same things”, a leading British composer once said to me, “But if Harry looked out of it, he would see something entirely different.” The utter distinctiveness of Harrison Birtwistle’s music came from his utterly distinctive view of the world. He was a very singular creative figure, one of the greatest in the history of British music, I would maintain, but he and his music were never predictable or easy to pin down. I knew him for more than 40 years and never ceased to be surprised by what captured his imagination, whether it was the intricate 18th century Dutch still life in a US gallery that interested him more than any of the great 20th century paintings on show, or discussing the French fondness for eating ortolans, and the now illegal techniques employed for trapping these tiny songbirds.
