11th July 2025

91 years ago today, on 11th July 1934, George Dorrington Cunningham (‘G D’ – then City Organist of Birmingham) gave the first broadcast performance of Herbert Howells’ ‘Sonata for Organ’. George Thalben-Ball (a former pupil of Cunningham) had premiered the sonata earlier in the year at the Royal Albert Hall and Howells had withdrawn an earlier 1911 Sonata.

I recently discovered Cunningham’s marked-up score for the Birmingham performance. It provided a fascinating insight into the registrational simplicity of Cunningham’s approach when faced with the long arch-phrases of Howells’ writing. There is so much detail in this music, yet the overall shape is what needs to be heard. Cunningham’s score also included his timings, which, along with Howells’ very fast metronome marks, suggest that performances have slowed down considerably in the intervening decades.

Today, I’m sharing my own recording of the complete sonata, inspired by Cunningham’s approach. This has been recorded ‘as live’, so please do forgive the occasional clipped note.

The Sonata is in three movements:
i – Vivo, energico ed agitato
ii – Quasi lento, tranquillo
iii – Allegro assai

The first movement follows a fairly classical sonata structure in D major. The second movement is far more introverted, opening in F sharp minor and closing in A major. The final movement opens in F sharp minor and its closing moves to F sharp major (a key that Howells associated with Parry, whose Piano Concerto is in the unusual key).

Personally, I hear the three movements as reflecting a narrative of birth, death and resurrection. The opening movement is characterised by all of the snappy syncopated rhythms, covered in accents – it’s exceptionally ecstatic music. The opening ideas are found in all three movements. The second movement opens like a fugue, but soon gives way to a much more lyrical (modal) style. This builds to an unexpected and dramatic fanfare from the solo reeds, which could speak of the final judgment in the Book of Revelation – ‘and there were peals of thunder, voices, flashes of lightning, and an earthquake’. Howells’ vision then subsides and gives way to a coda in F-sharp major of remarkable tranquillity. The final page turns to A major at the last moment for an almost inaudible close. The final movement (crotchet = circa 144) – the resurrection – begins with a C sharp pedal, whilst a whirlwind of manual figurations swirl above. There is a similar effect in the final movement of ‘Hymnus Paradisi’. The time signature shifts between 4 and 3, giving a manic effect. This gives way to a more march-like idea, building to the full organ climax with the most jazz-like syncopation of Howells’ entire output. The tension then dies away, and we get a beautifully lyrical theme from the solo flute, which mirrors similar music in the first movement. These ‘memories’ of earlier moments are extremely powerful. Howells then builds the movement up to its fortissimo conclusion. For its time, this was extremely ‘modern’ music; the rhythmic complexity and harmonic dissonance were considered extremely experimental. However, over 90 years later, it is clear that this sonata deserves a place alongside those by other composers, such as Elgar and Whitlock, which are much more frequently programmed.

You may like to read and listen to a similar blog that I’ve written on Howells’ Paean.