Remember when we used to be told that there was no significant British opera between Purcell and Britten? If there was ever an excuse for repeating that old lie, it’s long gone – with revivals and recordings of operas by the likes of Smyth, Stanford and Macfarren revealing a much livelier picture. Now the indefatigable Retrospect Opera has made the first full recording of Stanford’s 1895 ‘Romantic Comic Opera’ Shamus O’Brien, and if nothing else it needs to be heard by anyone with more than a passing interest in British music.

In short, it’s a jewel: the sort of piece that makes you sit up and reappraise everything you thought you knew about a composer – even (perhaps especially) if you already know the only other one of Stanford’s 10 operas to have been recorded, The Travelling Companion (Somm, 11/19). Possibly it shouldn’t come as such a surprise. George Bernard Shaw always insisted that Stanford was at his best when he embraced his Irish roots, and in its day Shamus O’Brien was a genuine hit: running for 80 performances in the West End and 50 on Broadway, as well as touring extensively in Britain and Ireland. Henry Wood conducted the first run; Beecham promoted a later revival.

It’s set in rural Cork in the aftermath of the 1798 rebellion, and perhaps the closest musical and dramatic parallel is one of Dvořák or Smetana’s Bohemian village tales. Shamus, a rebel, is on the run from the government forces; but he’s been betrayed by Mike Murphy – a rejected suitor of Shamus’s wife Nora. Meanwhile Captain Trevor, his pursuer, is torn between duty and his love for Nora’s spirited sister Kitty. Part of the appeal of the libretto (by the Irish playwright George H Jessop) is that it portrays each of the characters (except the villainous Mike) as essentially sympathetic: credible, likeable human beings caught by the tide of history.

Again, if your sole knowledge of Stanford as an operatic composer is The Travelling Companion, prepare to be bowled over by the assurance and freshness of Shamus O’Brien. It has momentum and it has atmosphere – painting a recognisably Irish musical landscape without recourse to folksiness and using the wordless cry of a (possibly imaginary) banshee to spine-tingling effect. There are big choral scenes, impassioned duets for Shamus and Nora, and powerful extended finales to both acts (the Act 1 finale features uilleann pipes, played here by Jarlath Henderson). And the melodic inspiration more than delivers on the promise of the delightful overture (one of the few numbers to have been recorded in modern times) – expect to acquire a couple of new earworms, at the very least.

As usual, Retrospect Opera provides generous documentation and a full libretto, as well as a vigorous-sounding chorus and a cast that seems entirely committed to the project, even delivering the spoken dialogue (Shamus is an opéra comique) with gusto. (Typically for the period, Irish and upper-class English accents are rendered phonetically, making Joseph Doody’s Captain Trevor sound like the Scarlet Pimpernel). Brendan Collins is a swashbuckling Shamus, and his fine heroic baritone makes for a splendid pairing with Gemma Ní Bhriain, sounding ardent as Nora. Tenors Doody and Andrew Gavin (Mike) make an attractive sound and can really soar when required. Ami Hewitt (Kitty) is sweet and bright and Rory Dunne, as the village priest, brings a weight and sincerity that makes this far more than a character role.

David Parry, conducting, initially seems a little steady but comes to feel entirely natural – maintaining tension, giving space for melodies to breathe and allowing the words to come through with notable clarity. In short, this is a magnificent piece of advocacy for an inspired and wonderfully enjoyable opera. The finest British opera between Sullivan and Smyth? Let’s just say that in future, no one gets to answer that question without listening to this recording. The rest of us can simply, and with great pleasure, follow Nora’s advice: ‘Hey, boys, listen to Shamus!’