One evening [...] I came across a crumpled and greasy paper lying on the ground, covered in writing that caught my attention. I picked it up and when I got to the block, I unfolded it carefully so as not to damage it. It smelled of herring and God knows what else. But they were notes. The melody itself, handwritten but very clear, without harmonisation, or accompaniment.
I washed the precious document as carefully as I possibly could and hung it in a discreet place in the music hall to dry off overnight. Over the next couple of days, I harmonized and wrote down all three polonaises for a small chamber ensemble, and then started rehearsing them in the block as soon as circumstances permitted. They turned out to be true pearls of XVIII century Polish music. Some of my Polish colleagues attributed this "feat" to me, considering it an act of resistance. I was a bit surprised, because for me it was merely a musical satisfaction, admittedly intensified by the Polishness of the music, but I didn't see how its conspiratorial performance could harm the Germans or influence the course of warfare...
After the war I recreated the "Three Warsaw Polonaises" from memory.
With the efforts of many people and institutions, including the PWM in Cracow, the notes were found, and with the financial support of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Victims Memorial Foundation, and the patronage of the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum in Oświęcim, this musical triptych was recorded and released in the form of a CD.
The discovery and recording of these works bring back to life the musical oeuvre of the Polish cultural legacy, and research is currently underway to determine whether these works are known in Polish music history. The uniqueness of these works is not only the possibility to listen to the sound of the camp orchestra, but also an example of a very rare way of orchestrating, forced by the circumstances of the prisoners (musicians) in the camp.
The conductor of each of the camp orchestras in Auschwitz had little influence on the composition of his ensemble, in particular, he had no idea whether the musicians would survive another day in the camp. Although newcomers took the place of those who fell ill, or were sent to the gas chamber or "the wire", it was necessary to prepare the instrumentation such that part of one instrument could be replaced by another, which Laks recalls as follows:
"The sudden disappearance of one or more musicians caused "emptiness" in the chords, and often in the solo parts. It imposed a grim obligation on me to keep a close eye on the physical and mental health of my weaker colleagues and to use a special kind of instrumentation. This system, which is referred to in musical jargon as "odeon", consists in allowing any work to be performed by any ensemble, regardless of the presence or absence of one or even several musicians. It is achieved by writing small notes of more important themes into other vocal parts, so that in the absence of the principal soloist he or she is replaced by one of those present, by reading these small notes. Over time, I gained real mastery in this peculiar art, and the sound "gaps" that plagued me appeared less and less frequently. It was only after long months that the composition of the orchestra, which was growing in number, became established as such, which permitted me to abandon my activities as a music gravedigger".