In this imaginary conversation with Erik Satie his words are authentic, translations by Rollo Myers. It was written for the Satie centenary on 17 May 1966 but never published. In fact, London's actual Satie Centenary on the day was a very modest programme of songs and piano music at the College of St Mark and St John, Chelsea, with Jane Manning and pianists Colin Tilney and Peter Dickinson. Satie's reputation may not yet have reached the level implied by this imaginary London Centenary but it has come a long way since then.

PD You must have been delighted at the Satie Centenary Celebrations in London and it was most unfortunate that you could not be present. The complete works were featured on BBC Radio 3; all the ballets were given at Covent Garden and televised for the first time; and the interdenominational service at Westminster Abbey was in honour of the Eglise Métropolitaine d’Art de Jésus Conducteur. It was a fine setting for the Messe des pauvres and Socrate received an ovation at the Festival Hall. You are now widely regarded as one of the first composers in modern music. Would you say something about your origins and later development?

ES M. Erik Satie was born at Honfleur (Calvados) on 17 May 1866. He is considered to be the strangest musician of our time. He classes himself among the ‘fantasists’ who are, in his opinion, highly respectable people. He often says to his friends: ‘Although born short-sighted I am longsighted by inclination. … Shun pride: of all the evils from which we suffer this is the most constipating. Let those unhappy people whose sight does not see me blacken their tongues and burst their ears!’

PD It is excellent to hear you say this as it is not generally known how many musicians with important places in the establishment may be suffering in the ways you have described. Unfortunately, you are often accused of being ridiculous when this is, surely, far from your intention?

ES My humour resembles that of Cromwell. I also owe much to Christopher Columbus, because the American spirit has occasionally tapped me on the shoulder and I have been delighted to feel its ironically glacial bite.