There are no music critics in this country, there may be one or two, I don't know. But the presence of Ramon Santos was more than enough. He thought it was bitin, but I couldn't care any less. In fact, quite the contrary, I felt glad. I now understand that he always pushes me beyond my capabilities.
As I write this I'm listening to Arkata by Xenakis. The composition of which was directed by a mathematical machine.
In the twentieth century, composition has detached itself from music. Composition, the process, has become an art in itself. Which I doubt to have had any concern on the resulting music.