He composed for the stage and the radio, but quit the national radio broadcaster, rai, when they wouldn’t let him freelance on the side. Branching out on his own, he refused to let himself be distracted, one reason why he continued living in Trastevere, travelled little and never bothered to learn to speak English. Hollywood, when it decided it wanted him, had to come to Rome. When his music came to him, it was fully formed. He would rise before dawn to write, composing at his desk on 12-staff paper with a pencil rather than experimentally at the piano.

He liked using all the orchestra’s resources in his arrangements; his musicians would often find themselves playing instruments that they had never played before— the military snare drum, the jaw harp and, increasingly, the Fender Rhodes electronic piano. He wasn’t showing off; every note had a job to do. Changing one thing changed everything. In time he came to realise that his approach to composing was like his favourite grandmaster, Bobby Fischer’s approach to playing chess: a series of sudden and surprising moves.

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