You don’t have to know that Fazıl Say’s 10-part Troy Sonata is a musical parallel to Homer’s Iliad in order to perceive the music for what it really is. For example, will the second movement’s inventively swirling gusts of arpeggios evoke the image of ‘Aegean Winds’ to those who partake in blind listening? Why don’t we call the movement ‘Nantucket Sunshower’ instead, an equally plausible title? Similarly, Say’s fusion of Prokofiev and progressive rock recasts the ‘Heroes of Troy’ as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. ‘Sparta’ contains lovely delicate passages, embroidered with percussive effects. By contrast, the mawkish love theme depicting Helen of Troy is basically watered-down Michel Legrand; but, then again, Say’s melodies are rarely memorable. The eighth movement (‘The War’) is predictably boisterous, full of pounding bass notes and string scraping. Say churns out more of the same in the ‘Trojan Horse’ movement.

Say’s four-part suite The Moving Mansion works best when the composer showcases his lyrical side in the first and third movements, and is least convincing when he tries to generate climaxes through crude repetition, which is not the same thing as forward momentum. ‘Sari Gelin’, from Say’s Art of Piano, similarly embodies these strongest and weakest aspects of his piano-writing.

There’s no question that Say puts his ideas across with confidence and communicative immediacy. After a while, however, his limited bag of tricks become predictable. He really should compose for films.