“Kagel was not the sort of person one would have expected to die”—a nonsensical remark, perhaps, but those who met the composer, however briefly, would no doubt see what the anonymous author may have meant.

In his music, Mauricio Kagel poked fun at accepted notions and figures of music history. The very title of Mirum for tuba has a tongue-in-cheek quality, as does Variationen ohne Fuge for large orchestra, especially the full title, which goes like this: Variationen ohne Fuge über die “Variationen und Fuge,” über ein Thema von Händel für Klavier op. 24 von Johannes Brahms (1861–62). In English: Variations without Fugue on the “Variations and Fugue” on a Theme by Handel for Piano, Op. 24, by Johannes Brahms (1861–62). The piece has Brahms and Handel make a personal appearance in period costume. I am particularly fond of the title “Unguis incarnatus est,” which has a devoutly liturgical and irrevocably final air about it—when in fact all it means is “ingrown toe nails.” (Composed in 1972, it is “for piano and …”) In his La trahison orale (1981/83), he even went as far as to invoke the Devil. Why did he succumb to Death?

Kagel was someone who seemed entirely sure of himself, as if he had never been plagued by self-doubt, as if he had been perfectly conscious of his place in music history. While most of his colleagues usually display pleasure on receiving a favorable comment on a composition, Kagel would simply agree with you and say “Yes, it is one of my best works.” I remember expressing genuine admiration for his Die Stücke der Windrose (1988/93) for salon orchestra, an extract from which he conducted in Vienna’s Wiener Konzerthaus. He nodded, the serious expression on his face unchanging, and concurred. So he should have, I suppose: why pretend to be grateful for recognition when he knew it was his due?

An addict to sincerity, I decided not to shake his hand following the Austrian premiere of his Sankt-Bach-Passion (1981/85)—I would have found his self-assurance jarring.

I.

Reading books on music has always been more of an immediate inspiration to compose than listening itself. I can still remember an episode that happened back in Argentina: