When in June 1923 a bewildered audience in London's Aeolian Hall heard Edith Sitwell declaim her 'Faade' poems through a megaphone, the 21-year-old William Walton - conducting behind a painted backcloth - stood on the threshold of fame. Throughout the 1920s and 1930s he was regarded as the white hope of British music, and a succession of works including the Viola Concerto, 'Belshazzar's Feast' and the First Symphony more than fulfilled that early promise he was also one of the first serious composers to be involved in films.br Using first-hand accounts, this book explodes the myth of 'Faade's' riotous reception, examines Walton's work in both films and radio and, through contemporary correspondence, articles and interviews - wherever possible in his own words - explores Walton's life and troubled times. It brings to the fore his complex personality - 'remote, removed, distant' in Laurence Olivier's words, in dynamic contrast with music of such vitality and drama. Composition for him wa