When I lose direction, it becomes very hard to write. I actually get a physical pain, as if my subconscious knows better. That may sound mystical and pretentious, but it's true.

I get nervous before I conduct a concert, but then you just go out there and do it.

I always say that I can help someone who can already compose, but if they can't, I can't help them. I can advise on technical issues, of course, like how low the piccolo can go, but otherwise what's important is not wisdom but enthusiasm.

Concerts are dangerous because anything can happen - which is one of the joys as well.

The London music world isn't a particularly cohesive place. And when I'm composing, I'm not very friendly. I need isolation.

It it's true that fastidiousness and attention to detail is very much in my genes - if you knew my parents, you'd see that this is something I've inherited, only doubly so.

It's not only that I want to get things right when I'm composing but that my imagination often gets lost, and then I have to wait until I come back to the path. I think there's an internal force that makes a piece logical from beginning to end; I like to tell stories in music that are unexpected but also logical.