[1] The compositional style rejects the idea of a dialogue between the solo piano and the orchestra, but rather promotes a conjunction between these two elements, hence the title of the piece.
"[1]) Much of the piano writing produces what Xenakis would later call "arborescences", where germinal shapes proliferate into a variety of branching lines.
[5] Xenakis considers the compositional style used in the piece as a continuation of his own Eonta (1963–64), which eventually culminated in Evryali (1973) and Erikhthon (1974).
Jacques Lonchampt, from Le Monde, wrote that Synaphaï has "a torrential score, tossing in a kind of perpetual tremolo on top of which break through frenzied rhythmic sequences, but also a whole agitation, shuddering and truly musical".
Musicologist Henry-Louis de La Grange said of the piece: "Set against a flamboyant orchestral tapestry, occasionally pierced by harsh cries from the brass, the highly elaborate piano part (the score uses one stave for each finger!)
[1] Pianist Roger Woodward reflected on the visceral reaction he experienced while performing the piece, recalling an "overwhelming crescendo... where, throughout the opening eighty-two measures...
"[6] In an interview with Xenakis, Bálint András Varga stated the following: "While listening to Synaphaï I noticed something very interesting...: suddenly there appears a melody.