For much of this century within English (and, by often dubious extension, British) academe, musicologists of whatever cultural bent have tended to ply their trades according to oddly discrete, non-overlapping strategies of study and discourse. This curiously extreme form of epistemological apartheid, while by no means unique to the native tradition, has persisted long after many other subject fields within both the humanities and the sciences have embraced interdisciplinary interpretation with open minds. Indeed, Nattiez's widelydisseminated semiological tripartition notwithstanding, the division of intellectual labour still most typically operative is that represented by the current mainstays of home-based musicological publishing, namely, the 'Lifeand-Works' monograph and the 'Handbook'. Throughout its venerable existence, the former genre has been envisaged as a portmanteau attempt to engage in biographical, historical and (to a lesser extent) technical exploration of the elements that comprise the semiotic package represented by the phrase, 'the great composer' of which there are so many famous examples that it is invidious to single out a handful for inclusion here.l Studies of this kind have a distinguished English-language history that stretches back at least to Edward Dent's pioneering text on Busoni (1933), and have often been aimed at a readership of both enthusiastic amateurs and professional scholars. By comparison, the handbook has come to epitomise a more or less opposing kind of credo. Like the monograph, it is catholic in ethos, but tends rather more to focus on the technical detail exemplified by a specific work or group of works by one composer.2 As a consequence, the handbook's more rigorously textual and, by implication, esoteric approach, indicates that it is targeted primarily at the academic community, rather than the general public. Despite the imaginative possibilities inherent within both types, there have, to date, been few genuine syntheses, a fact which may explain a third, more recent tendency in British musicological publishing that of the 'Book of Studies'. As their titles would indicate, these symposia aim to bridge the philosophical gap between monographs and handbooks by illustrating a range of approaches germane to a particular composer (and perhaps with an element of the non-English tradition of the Festschrift thrown in). Consequently life,