When Malcolm Williamson was appointed Master of the Queen’s Music in 1975, Sir William Walton quipped that they had given the job to the wrong Malcolm.

Nevermind the fact that the other Malcolm, Sir Malcolm Arnold, could be something of a loose cannon. Alcoholism, promiscuity, manic-depression, possible bi-polar disorder. He once shot himself in the foot to get out of war service and attempted suicide several times. Still, he did manage to churn out much delightful music-to-order, often lickety-split and in an immediately accessible idiom. So who knows, maybe Arnold would have been a good choice.

Williamson, who would have been 90 years-old today, was always an establishment outlier. Born in Sydney, Australia, he arrived in England in his late teens. His antipodean origins led to sotto voce grumblings that his Royal appointment was but a utilitarian one, “cementing the cracks in the Commonwealth,” as Walton put it.

Whether or not a sense of alienation contributed to a kind of paralysis in the face of overwhelming pressure, Williamson developed an unfortunate reputation of being very bad with deadlines (and for that, he certainly has my sympathy). Most particularly, he failed to complete a symphony in time for the Queen’s Golden Jubilee in 1977. His ambitious “Mass for Christ the King,” also intended for the occasion, was also delivered late. Significantly, he was the first Master of the Queen’s (or King’s) Music in over a century not to be knighted.

Following the Jubilee debacle, his output slowed, though he was seldom unproductive. In all, he completed seven symphonies, concertos for piano, violin, organ, harp and saxophone, and numerous other orchestral, choral, chamber and instrumental works.

Williamson suffered from ill health in his later years. He too may have turned to the bottle to numb himself against stress and depression. However, those close to him assert that, at least toward the end of his life, he never drank, but rather struggled with aphasia, the effect of a series of strokes.

What’s certain is that he was the first non-Briton to be named Master. Following his death in 2003, the parameters of the appointment were revised. The position is no longer one for life, but rather a fixed, ten-year term. Sir Peter Maxwell Davies was the first to serve under the new guidelines. He was succeeded in 2015 by Judith Weir, the first woman to hold the post (and yes, she is still referred to as “Master”).

What’s puzzling is that, for someone with a reputation for being unable to meet deadlines, Williamson was able to write a fair amount of music for the cinema. The films were admittedly of varying quality. It’s always amusing to discover his name in the opening credits of Hammer productions like “The Brides of Dracula” and “The Horror of Frankenstein.” But it proves that he could write to order, and he could write very quickly, perhaps when he wasn’t under the microscope.

Now that the dust settled, it is the music he left us that’s important.

Happy birthday, Malcolm Williamson!

Williamson performs his attractive Piano Concerto No. 2

A rare recording of his Symphony No. 6

Ballet music from “The Display”

Orchestral excerpts from the opera “Our Man in Havana”

“With Proud Thanksgiving”

“Two Christmas Hymns”

“Lento for Strings”

Theme music for “The Brides of Dracula”

End credits for “The Horror of Frankenstein”

“Nothing But the Night,” starring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing:

Malcolm Williamson in conversation with Bruce Duffie:
http://www.kcstudio.com/williamson2.html