Sorabji, Schoenberg, Boulez, Berg, etc. all that rubbish. Many nouns could be used to characterize that whole malodorous pile of notes, with the exception of one: 'music.'
Listen to this for a few minutes (at least long enough to hear a few complete chorales) to remind yourself of what music actually is:
The performer plays two versions of each chorale, one with bass and soprano only, then one with the alto and tenor put back in. Bach's basses are unimpeachable of course; but when his other two voices are added, the result is the immortal, perfected essence of Western music -- and that's just the bedrock of the whole mountain, of which Bach also composed a large portion of the remainder.
Sorabji, along with all those other 20th-century note-scribbling neurotics, is just a pianistically gifted but mentally disturbed note-factory. Many, many things can be said about him that are true; but one thing that can not be said seriously is that he was a composer. He was simply a man who wrote and played millions upon millions of hard-to-play notes. That does not equal 'music.'
If there's one thing I've become convinced of over my lifetime, it's that many people who absolutely adore listening to 'music' as they call it, are in fact grotesquely unable to understand and respond to actual music. The sounds that are giving them such intense pleasure turn out, upon the briefest inspection, to have nothing at all to do with music. I have seen this syndrome in both friends and family, and it frankly makes me lose my appetite.
But I try to keep in mind the ancient Latin saying, "De gustibus non est disputandam," which means essentially that it is entirely futile to try to prove superiority of taste by means of argumentation.
So I don't argue. I merely point, laugh, and mock.