The bracing lyrical power of this sonata in A minor is established in the hill-shaped contour of the opening octave statement and the shadowy recesses of the chordal reply. The counterweight thus provided by chords rebounding from the octaves creates a resonance or "oversound" which emanates through the first movement, and indeed the entire work. This bold gestural opening (reminiscent of Schubert's Piano Sonata in A Minor, D.784), along with a cheerful second theme announced over a broken-chord accompaniment, instinctively identifies with the forces of nature and affirms an enduring passion for life. The curve and grain of the music partakes of an impressive physical space in a way that Lilburn described plainly as "letting our music grow out of the land beneath our feet".

The central movement, intensely lyrical rather than starkly dramatic, seems to plough the earth. The musical heart is a lullaby-like theme which wells up out of heart-break. Cut this music and it will bleed – yet even so, consolation can be found in the warmth of wanting to feel the earth and in the sweet whisper of the closing bars. This movement reveals Lilburn at his most humane.

If the physical push of the second movement is earthward then the psychic direction of the finale is skyward, its melodies overbirm without complication to bring the sonata into abundant fruition.

The composer's friend and colleague Frederick Page gave the first performance of this sonata and Margaret Nielsen, a key Lilburn specialist, subsequently established it in the repertory.