Aldo Clementi marks out the distance with an absolute refusal to provide narratives, whether of tension resolved, or simply of that logically unending succession of states of being so dear to many of his contemporaries. His materials, whether gathered from a tonal past, generated as a jeu d'esprìt from the names of dedicatees, or produced by a purely abstract process, are projected into a rotational steady state that has no logical end or beginning. (David Osmond-Smith, 2005)
On the occasion of …