My brother and I grew up with our insomniac father in the bush. He would plough the field at 3am with a rattling rotary hoe in the light of a gas lamp he’d rigged up. To keep us in our beds he played a reel-to-reel tape to muffle the noise. The sequence began with Satie’s Gymnopedies, Al Caiola’s version of Grieg’s A Minor Concerto, and for some harebrained reason Widor’s Toccata. Those three works have pretty much informed my creative life. These pieces belong to the four of them.