It must be cheating, in some way. What Michael Nyman does, I mean. His music is so direct, it takes a shortcut to the emotional core of your being. It's not fair on all the other composers. He bypasses all the extraneous stuff and just twangs the big string in your heart called "feeling".

This is not to say his music is without nuance. His minimalist compositions, endlessly cycling and repeating, are in constant flux, fluid. Their emphases change, the tension builds up, something like a wave, then releases in a huge gush as the core theme is revisited.

To my ears he is from the same school as Philip Glass, although Nyman's music is not as dense. Where Glass's music can sometimes feel austere or even heartless, Nyman's is instead a full on rush of emotion. It is more accessible. It's no surprise he has made so many film soundtracks. But the constant assault on your senses can get wearying.

I saw him at Cadogan Hall, off Sloane Square, playing music from his soundtracks for Peter Greenaway films The Draughtsman's Contract, Prospero's Books, The Cook, the Thief, his Wife and her Lover. After the interval Nyman played some new stuff - 8 Lust Songs: I Sonetti Lussuriosi. It was sung lasciviously by a minxy Marie Angel while overhead projections of the Italian lyric and erotic etchings were displayed.

An excellent show, and the sound in Cadogan Hall is pretty good, barring one or two crackles from the speakers as the band hit full stride.

Top tip: The Royal Court cafe in the basement of the theatre nearby is good for food, in a laid-back, jazzy atmosphere.