“From pagan rites to pastoral reveries, Ireland at his best" - Rebeca Omordia

For readers of a certain age, the progress of recordings of piano music by John Ireland has been astonishing. I first heard his piano music on an old Saga album (XID5206) lent to me by an older friend, where Alan Rowlands played the Decorations and the Holy Boy: Prelude. This album had been released in 1962. In the early 1970s I acquired three Lyrita records of Ireland’s piano works, once again played by Rowlands. Since that time there have been another four more or less complete editions of this repertoire - two by Eric Parkin (one Lyrita and the other on Chandos), John Lenehan on Naxos and Mark Bebbington on Somm. All bring their unique talents to this notable music. Rebeca Omordia has chosen a fine conspectus of Ireland’s piano compositions: three major essays and a selection of five more ephemeral, but none the less, important “character pieces.”

The recital gets off to a great start with an outstanding account of the expansive and visionary Piano Sonata in E minor. This is his most significant piano composition. That said, it is certainly not his most popular or oft played. It was written between October 1918 and January 1920. Although not a “war work” as such, its period of gestation coincided with the end of hostilities. The liner notes explain that it is conceived on a “large scale” not so much in temporal terms as “in concentrated intellectual command and expressive ire.”

John Ireland once suggested that the first movement of his Piano Sonata was about “life,” the second was “more ecstatic” and the last was “inspired by a rough autumnal day on Chanctonbury Ring & [the] old British Encampment.” It is a good hermeneutic for appreciating this music.

The opening movement, Allegro moderato, features an “emotional struggle” that is never quite resolved, although it never descends into violence, nor is tranquillity discovered. The slow movement, Non troppo lento, is hardly ecstatic: it is hard won and deeply felt. The finale, Con moto moderato, is the most demanding movement, with a “jubilant” conclusion, that certainly creates a vivid evocation of the South Downs topography. There are references back to earlier themes and motifs bringing the Sonata to a satisfying conclusion. It is given a rewarding performance here, with a remarkable equilibrium between the “mystical,” the “late romantic” and the “passionate” elements.

The three movement Decorations is another one of Ireland’s most significant works. It was completed in the years before the First World War. There is a watery mood to The Island Spell, which may remind the listener of Ravel or Debussy. It is possible that quieter passages from Shakespeare’s The Tempest may have been an inspiration. The actual quotation heading the score is taken from a poem by the Symbolist poet, Arthur Symons. Moon-Glade is a decent evocation of a melancholic poem about “sorrowful dreams,” also by Symons. It is characterised by “subtle dissonance” created using bitonality. The final section, The Scarlet Ceremonies, is the most dramatic and intense. Drawing on a passage from Welsh poet Arthur Machen’s occult tale The White People, the listener is led into a world far removed from the pastoral convention popular at that time. What the Ceremonies were, we must imagine, but Eric Parkin has suggested “forgotten and forbidden pagan rites.” It is certainly not a walk along The Towing Path.

There is a definite impressionistic feel to the first of the Two Pieces (1921), Amberley Wild Brooks which is predicated on “rippling, sparkling sonorities” creating a mood of “rushing, fluttering and trembling of nature, green springing, joyful.” There is the occasional irruption of a melody, but this is about keyboard figurations. On the other hand, Remembrance has been likened to moments in Wagner’s Parsifal in its solemnity and introspection. They are two delightful pieces, which deserve to be better kent.

John Ireland’s Two Pieces for Piano (1925) are often underestimated as mere “character pieces.” This is unfair. April is a gentle miniature, which complements its title. Calmness is balanced by a short but virtuosic climax in the middle section before the recapitulation of the pastoral theme. In contrast, Bergomask could nod to the Italian courtship dance hailing from Bergamo. It is spirited, mischievous and may remind the listener of Ragamuffin from his London Pieces. They are given convincing performances here.

One of the highlights of this disc is Rebeca Omordia’s superb performance of Sarnia: An Island Sequence, which pianist Eric Parkin described as one of Ireland’s “pianistic masterpieces.” The title refers to the Roman name for Guernsey in the Channel Islands, a place of deep personal resonance for the composer.

This suite (or is it a Fantasy-Sonata?) would become Ireland’s final major work for solo piano. He began writing it in Guernsey and completed it upon returning to Banbury, England in 1940, having been evacuated shortly before the German occupation. The three movements - Le Catioroc (named after a Neolithic site), In a May Morning, and Song of the Springtides - form a wonderful tribute to the island he first visited in his late-twenties.

The pianist’s role in Sarnia is to navigate the suite’s complexity with sensitivity, balancing its mystical - at times pagan- nuances with luminous depictions of the island’s landscape. Of importance is the subtle innocence/supressed passion dichotomy in the second movement Song of the Springtides, dedicated to Michael Rayson, the son of a hotel owner, and whom Ireland was infatuated. It is one of the loveliest movements he composed. The final movement, Song of the Springtides, requires that, as Ireland wrote to Clifford Curzon, the performer must “display charm, subtlety, passion, and above all [the] beauty of a high alluring order.”

It is good that the recital ends with a lesser-known number as a kind of encore following Sarnia. Columbine was finished in 1949, late in his career. It appeared in an anthology of pieces, Down the Centuries, edited by English-born Canadian administrator, teacher, pianist, conductor, and arranger Leonard Isaacs. Connoisseurs of Italian commedia dell’arte will recall Columbine as clever, charming, witty, graceful, flirtatious, and resourceful - forever outsmarting masters and lovers with a playful twist of cunning. Ireland’s little Ravelian waltz is full of charm and insight into this engaging lady, notwithstanding a touch of melancholy.

The soloist’s website explains that she was born in Romania to a Romanian mother and Nigerian father. She studied in Bucharest, Birmingham, and London. Her acclaimed recordings include African Pianism and Errollyn Wallen’s Piano Concerto. Omordia’s doctoral thesis is focused on John Ireland’s piano music.

The liner notes by Robert Matthew-Walker are comprehensive and provide a great introduction to the man and the music. The booklet is illustrated with six photographs of the performer, but sadly none of the composer. It is a pity that the quotations that head each movement in the scores of Decorations and Sarnia - they would have enriched the listener’s experience further.

Rebeca Omordia’s recital distils Ireland’s piano legacy with clarity and passion - from mystical movements to sparkling miniatures. An engaging tribute to a composer whose musical imagination continues to inspire and astonish.

Track Listing:
Piano Sonata in E minor (1918-20)
Decorations (1912-13)
Two Pieces for Piano (1921)
Two Pieces for Piano (1925)
Sarnia: An Island Sequence (1940-41)
Columbine (1949)
Rebeca Omordia (piano)
rec. 27-28 January 2025, Potton Hall, Suffolk, UK
Resonus Classics RES10372

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.