I became acquainted with Varèse myself only toward the end of his life. A big, gruffly restless man, he had extraordinary power to vivify, and I will not soon forget him as he moved about his basement studio one night striking his beloved gongs, then rushed around the block to buy a pizza. I also remember him – it was the last time we were together – listening to the electronic interludes of Deserts, which he had just revised (the machine-guns were made to enter at new places, I think). He pleaded with the sound engineer to increase the already fuse-and brain-blowing volume, I recall, and he could hardly contain his eagerness to wiggle the dials himself. I am deeply saddened by his death.