A deluge of Ireland’s
piano music is upon us. Firstly there
is the classic, so-long-unavailable
Lyrita mono series recorded by Alan
Rowlands, then the first volume in Mark
Bebbington’s cycle and the third in
John Lenehan’s. Add to this the fairly
recently released stereo cycle by Eric
Parkin, also on Lyrita and the appetites
of all admirers of the composer will
be unambiguously whetted.
Rowlands has special
authority in this repertoire. He knew
the composer and studied a number of
his works with him when the composer
was seventy-eight. Rowlands’ liner-note
comments about his meetings with Ireland
are required reading – not least for
the admission that though he believes
these recordings ‘give a good account
of the way Ireland wanted his music
done’ Rowlands is still worried about
one or two details. He feels his tempo
for the Sonata’s finale is too slow
– despite Ireland’s famous admonitions
about measured tempi in his music. He
is far too modest really about everything.
For despite this moment
of self-doubt and despite the rather
cramped ‘front room’ mono acoustic it,
and everything else, sounds utterly
right. How fascinating for example to
hear the rapidity of the darting figures
in The Island Spell, which he
plays faster than anyone else – it has
the kind of sturdy confidence that doesn’t
so easily elide into comfortable impressionism.
Similarly the companion piece from Decorations,
the delicious Moon-glade has,
by virtue of the recording acoustic
and Rowlands’s playing, a degree of
hardness that avoids the too-easy limpidity
that Ireland’s music can sometimes engender.
Above all Rowlands can be, and frequently
is, startlingly sympathetic even when
he is earthy and loamy.
As for the Sonata I
happen to feel that tempo relationships
sound absolutely natural in his hands.
True it’s a boxy recording but he preserves
that sense of chordal solidity and spread
that Ireland valued – and complained
when he didn’t hear it. I think he catches
the sense of romantic melancholy in
the slow movement better than anyone
else ever has. Yes, the finale is broader
than, say, Parkin – but it has a breadth
that compels attention.
Everywhere one turns
there are things to learn and absorb.
Try the central movement of the Sonatina.
Listen to the nagging insistence, one
that borders here on the laconic if
also obsessive. The finale, accentuated
by the drier acoustic, emphasises the
rougher hewn approach that Rowlands
takes – a strong contrast to the sumptuously
recorded version from Bebbington. And
how admirable, at slower tempo, are
the London Pieces. Rowlands has
the knack of altering ones perception
of the characterisation of the music.
Chelsea Reach begins as a tone
poem of tristesse and loss before the
efflorescence of chordal romance. In
the Four Preludes Rowlands finds
greater intimacy than anyone and makes
most other Ireland players sound officiously
extrovert.
Of the two contemporary
cycles we’ll take Bebbington’s first.
His Sonata is more clement than Lenehan’s
combustible affair – the latter’s development
section goes like the clappers - and
broader too. Bebbington adheres to what
one takes to be a broadly Ireland-like
interpretation of the central movement
– measured, chordally generous, giving
full weight and measure. Both here and
in the finale he comes very close to
Alan Rowlands’ own tempi – much more
so than he does to Eric Parkin’s. The
lyricism of his performance is affecting
and one shouldn’t downplay the humour
and wit that he finds in the music.
The Island Spell
(from Decorations) is a purely
impressionistic evocation in his hands,
whilst its companion pieces are limpid
and warmly textured. The richly coloured
chordal ceremonial of the last is especially
resplendent in both performance and
recording. He articulates the left hand
accents of the Sonatina’s opening with
finely chiselled acuity. The finale
is springy and warm hued. Elsewhere
he’s fine in the London Pieces,
though not as ambiguous or affecting
as Rowlands. The Ballade receives
an unusually expressive and quite slow
reading with Bebbington finding in it
an intensity that others fail to locate.
He has been afforded
a truly royal recording in Symphony
Hall, Birmingham.
Lenehan, as already
noted, offers a uniquely vital and dramatic
reading of the Sonata. The localised
intensity is more visceral than Parkin’s,
say, because Lenehan allows for urgent
peaks but give necessary space for reflective
lyricism. This is equally true in the
central movement where he’s half a minute
quicker than the already pretty fast
Parkin. In the finale he displays a
perky confidence and striding power
and surety that is unusual. The Preludes
are excellent examples of Lenehan’s
quite extrovert take on Ireland’s music
generally – he brings a more muscular
and tensile, less introvert approach,
which is valuable on its own terms.
Even in a less well-known piece, such
as Spring will not wait, we find
Lenehan quicker and more straightforward
than fellow players. Ballade of London
Nights is powerfully done and expands
nicely at a standard tempo though a
corollary is that someone like Rowlands
finds more shadows in it. Amberley
Wild Brooks is against brisk and
bracingly extrovert – with Lenehan abjuring
the kind of expressive ruabti that Rowlands
brought to it. In the main then Lenehan’s
are finely chiselled, just a touch steely
performances, perfect for those who
find Ireland too sanguine and becalmed.
The warmly recorded performances are
not as plush as Bebbington’s but are
very satisfactory.
Three very different
recordings then. Rowlands’s mono cycle
is a cornerstone for Ireland devotees,
just as important in terms of performance,
if not more so, than Parkin’s set. Lenehan
is volatile, Bebbington more conventional.
Jonathan Woolf
REAM3112 see
also review
by Rob Barnett
for details
Alan Rowlands (piano) 
