Andrew Irwin
Loch Erne’s Shore
Since I started to listen seriously to classical singers I have been particularly fond of the repertoire of Irish songs championed by the likes of John McCormack (although there hasn’t really been any singer like him before or since…). I am not sure why this should be as, though I can easily trace Welsh, Scottish and English ancestry, I am not aware of any Irish blood flowing in my veins. Be that as it may, Andrew Irwin’s choice of repertoire was one of several reasons I found this recital so enjoyable.
To begin with, Irwin’s voice is a very attractive one: a high tenor in the classic Irish tradition, essentially lyric, with some beautifully poised soft head notes, but with a touch of steel which leads me to speculate he might well investigate the lighter end of the Wagnerian repertoire in the fullness of time, particularly as I believe he is currently working in Germany. While his singing is not so heavily accented as McCormack’s, there is never any doubt we are listening to an Irishman (or Ulsterman if Mr Irwin prefers) and I would not have it any other way; his voice fits these songs (including two German lied) like the proverbial glove. Perhaps most impressive, and I mean this as the highest praise, his diction is quite superb and his approach to text unfailingly sensitive and intelligent.
Highlights of the recital include the ‘Five Fermanagh Folk Songs’ (arranged by Neil Martin), previously unknown to me, but instantly arresting, lyrical narrations of American exile, arduous labour, sexual frolics among ‘the rushes green’, and birdsong recalling lost love; Carrickfergus, that famous meditation on the major celtic preoccupations of homesickness, alcohol and death (I was surprised, and pleased that Irwin sings the climactic ‘I’m drunk today and I’m seldom sober/ A handsome rover from town to town’ in a gentle half voice, counter intuitive perhaps, but most effective, and typical of this singer’s attention to detail); Schumann’s ‘Zwei Venetianische Lieder’ (beautifully sung, in excellent German), and above all, a consummate performance of ‘The Garden Where the Praties Grow (‘two boys just like their mother and the girl’s the image of me’ – the joke is perfectly inflected); I have never heard this sung better, and yes, I do include Count John McCormack in my assessment!
Ruth McGinley accompanies as to the manner born, so, all in all, we have a delightful recital which will, I have no doubt, give great pleasure to any listener.
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