On paper – Composing Myself by Sir Andrzej Panufnik (Collected Writings, Volume One)

Composing Myself
by Sir Andrzej Panufnik
(Collected Writings, Volume One)
Toccata Press [477pp, hardback, illustrated, ISBN 978-0-907689-90-4, £80]

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Toccata Press continues its estimable ‘Musicians on Music’ series with this New Edition of Composing Myself – the autobiography of Andrzej Panufnik, first published (by Methuen) in 1987, now reissued with many new annotations, photographs and an end-piece by his widow.

What’s the book like?

Panufnik’s life – taking in the unsettled formative period of his youth, traumatic years with Nazi then Soviet occupation of Warsaw and takeover by communist forces loyal to Moscow, then rigid Stalinization of Polish culture on Socialist Realist lines resulting in his defection to the UK – would make a compelling film, and it typifies this composer’s unwavering integrity he pointedly eschews sensationalism or false emotion in its relating. Moreover, such measured objectivity is enhanced by his tangible evoking of an era cruelly obliterated while resulting in the death of his brother and destruction of all his music. The era of his emergence as Poland’s leading composer and conductor, but also a pawn at the hands of his political ‘masters’, is no less absorbing. Panufnik’s subsequent life – his struggle for recognition in an adopted country where his music fell-foul of officialdom while finding favour with conductors such as Leopold Stokowski and Jascha Horenstein – runs parallel to his evolving a mature idiom and, with the support of his second wife Camilla Jessel, the creative renaissance of his last quarter-century.

Panufnik’s text, left unaltered from 36 years before, is rounded out with explanatory footnotes – by Toccata MD Martin Anderson and the composer’s widow – that fill in a background often unclear or conjectural when Poland was still under communist rule. Almost all his friends or colleagues from the pre-war era are accorded brief but pertinent biographies, but the absence of information about his first wife Marie Elizabeth O’Mahoney (Scarlett Panufnik) after the breakdown of their marriage and divorce in 1959 is surprising (she died in seeming obscurity in 1984). There is an effusive Preface by Simon Callow, contextual Editorial Introduction by Anderson and, most valuably, a Postscriptum by Lady Panufnik. This takes the narrative from 1987 with the composer working on his most ambitious work, the Ninth Symphony, through a further 14 years as saw further high-profile premieres and recordings of almost all his major works before his untimely death in 1991. A late addition details the crucial role of MI6 officer (later MP) Neil Marten in Paunfnik’s escaping Polish ‘minders’ while in Switzerland in 1954.

Is it worth reading?

Absolutely. Panufnik’s being a significant cultural figure as well as a major composer should commend this book to anyone at all interested in the history of post-war Europe. Along with almost all those previously reproduced, this new edition features a host of photos unknown or not available in 1987 and which complement the narrative unerringly. This book is otherwise produced to Toccata’s customary high standards, with an index of works and a general index. Specific information on each piece can be found at Panufnik’s dedicated website (see below).

Is it recommended?

Indeed. The book is Volume One of Panufnik’s collected writings, its successor intended to collate the composer’s articles on music and culture together with his numerous programme notes. Hopefully this can be published in time for the 35th anniversary of his death in 2026.

For more information on the book and to explore purchase options, visit the Toccata Classics website

On paper – Humperdinck: A Life of the composer of Hänsel und Gretel by William Melton (Toccata Press)

Humperdinck: A Life of the Composer of Hänsel und Gretel by William Melton, with a Foreword by John Mauceri
Toccata Press [hardback, 456pp, b/w illustrations, ISBN 978-0-907689-92-8]

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

Several years ago the singer formerly known as Arnold Dorsey was asked how he had chosen his stage-name, to which he replied that it was his manager’s decision and he had simply gone along with it – having known nothing about the composer in question and remaining ignorant of his music through to the present. Certainly, he took nothing by him in his eight choices on Desert Island Discs in 2004. Hardly unexpected, beyond confirmation that, then as before, the real Engelbert Humperdinck (1854-1921) was fair game on account of his diminished status.

A status that, even now, is hardly what it was during the quarter-century up to the composer’s death and which itself was owing almost entirely to Hänsel und Gretel – the ‘fairy tale opera’ whose wildfire success throughout the Western world transformed Humperdinck’s reputation, in his fortieth year, from provincial teacher and well regarded purveyor of cantatas and songs to the leading German composer of his generation. Such success might have transformed his professional and financial standing, but it also created an aesthetic image such as could only become more stereotyped as time passed. Such acclaim that he later achieved was inevitably viewed (and not merely by his detractors) within the context of that one work, ensuring that Humperdinck’s legacy was fixed in the public mind even had he ceased composing thereafter.

This is reflected not least by the dearth of writing about his music, so that William Melton’s remark about this being the first biography in English is no idle claim. With the centenary of Humperdinck’s death barely a year away, its issue could not have been more timely – were it less than a total success. Melton, whose research into and publication on the ‘lost generation’ of Romantic composers is considerable and ongoing, has left little to chance when bringing to light vital information which, while it may have been known to specialists, has lain dormant in archives on both sides of the Atlantic until the present. Its sifting and distillation enabled a deeper appreciation than seemed possible or, indeed, necessary – Humperdinck emerging as the pivotal figure in German music from the demise of Wagner to the emergence of Strauss.

Although he does not exclude musical examples or eschew analytical discussion, Melton’s is primarily a biographical study as surveys Humperdinck’s emergence – halting and thereafter effortful – from his Rhenish origins, via dogged studies then extensive journeying in France and Spain, to his unexpected involvement with the circle around Wagner; on whose Parsifal he left more than a passing impression. Staying on cordial terms with Cosima and Siegfried, his distancing from the ‘cult of Bayreuth’ says much for his unforced independence of spirit.
Melton is mindful not to divide Humperdinck’s career into a crude ‘before and after’ Hänsel scenario, even if those changes arguably inhibited his future development with the demands of teaching and other duties. Succeeding operas Dornröschen and Die Heirat wider Willen enjoyed no more than succès d’estime, with his wartime stage-works Die Marketenderin and Gaudeamus hampered from the outset by poor librettos. Most significant was Königskinder, evolving from an innovative yet impractical melodrama into a drama of no mean profundity, but initial success in New York and Europe was not sustained after the outbreak of war; its deeper subtleties even now insufficiently acknowledged. The composer thought it his greatest achievement, making the lack of a UK production for almost three decades more regrettable.

Throughout this study, Melton is an informed and reliable guide to those many incidents and intrigues that make Wilhelmine Germany so fascinating if dismaying an environment; over the course of which, Humperdinck’s life unfolds as though intent on shunning the limelight into which he had been thrust. His final decade makes for poignant reading as he battles the effects of a serious stroke, then endures the death of his wife along with various friends and colleagues. His last creative act was not musical but literary: an autobiographical fantasy, Die Zeitlose, where he finds himself transported back almost half a century to his hometown of Siegburg – experiencing with accrued wisdom the sights and persons of his formative years. His death soon after the onset of the Weimar Republic could not have seemed less relevant.

The book is rounded off by a full Catalogue of Works then an extensive Bibliography, with the numerous illustrations reproduced as part of the actual text rather than as separate plates. Three decades ago, Toccata Press put many in its debt with the first biography in English of George Enescu: if Humperdinck emerges as a less significant figure, this is hardly the fault of Melton who, in his brief yet pertinent Epilogue, describes the composer as ‘Not a Genius, but a Master’: the case for which is presented methodically and persuasively throughout his book.

Further information can be found here