These days the name of Anton Reicha may only ring clear bells in the minds of the wind players among us. If Joseph Haydn is often named the father of the string quartet, then Reicha may certainly be hailed as the founder of the wind quintet. Alas, as a genre the wind quintet does not arouse the same lofty sentiments of awe and profound respect as does the noble string quartet, and is seldom heard. Things were altogether different in the Paris of the early eighteenth century however. Between 1811-1820, Reicha composed and published no less than 24 wind quintets, originally intended for five Professors of the Paris Conservatoire who were all highly virtuosic and brilliant instrumentalists on flute, oboe, clarinet, horn and bassoon respectively. In 1815 a special concert series was launched to perform Reicha's complete quintet oeuvre as it appeared. These concerts produced a sensation amongst the Parisian public, which clamoured for admission to hear each next installment.

This astonishing fact cannot only be written off as some vaguely perverse French predilection. By this time Reicha had established a reputation as a highly revered master and innovator in the field of musical theory and composition. Particularly in the quintets he set about in a quite systematic way to codify and in a sense prove through practical experiment his often radical theories of melody, harmony and counterpoint. The results must have sounded nothing less than highly adventurous and daring in their time.

Though born in Prague in 1770 as Antonín, Reicha did not stay long in his native Czech land, spending the majority of his life in Paris where he was eventually naturalised to become Antoine. At eleven he ran away from home to chase his early musical ambitions in the Swabian home of his well-known uncle, cellist Josef Reicha. After the family relocated to Bonn, he quickly found himself playing flute in his uncle's orchestra, where, funnily enough, a certain Ludwig van Beethoven graced the back desk of the viola section. The two became lifelong friends. A peripatetic decade saw Reicha shifting between Hamburg, Paris and Vienna, having ceased performance in favour of full immersion in his study of composition; moreover, mathematics, philosophy and compositional theory, especially of the fugue. It is this analytical and intellectual rigour, and the application of theory into compositional practice, which are keys to Reicha's style and also his lasting influence on other nineteenth century composers.

In 1808 Reicha settled permanently in Paris where he sought to make his mark as an opera composer. For a variety of reasons - perhaps some to do with the above approach not necessarily lending itself ideally to the drama and spontaneity of the stage - his operas were never successful, despite Reicha himself regarding some as his masterpieces. He gradually grew weary of the constant ego battles, political squabbling and minefields of the fickle Parisian opera world, and resigned himself to more solitary tasks. These included developing in compositional practice some of his more progressive ideas on musical theory and elaborating in writing on them in a number of significant treatises. In 1818 he was named Professor of Counterpoint and Fugue at the Paris Conservatoire. There he went on until his death in 1836 to command an enormous respect from his colleagues and students, some of whom became luminaries of the nineteenth century. It is not difficult to see some of Reicha's theory and influence in the works of students Hector Berlioz and Franz Liszt, for example. Perhaps Reicha just lacked the audacity and fervour to reach their heights of fame.

The Grand Quintetto for bassoon and string quartet dates from Paris in 1826. It is indeed on a grand scale, being not only one of the longest pieces in this genre, but one of the most thematically evolved. It bears all the hallmarks of Reicha's mature style: the extremely idiomatic use of instrumental colour as previously exercise in the wind quintets; strongly contoured and recognisable thematic material which undergoes a great degree of variation and imitation; an innovative harmonic structure; and an extraordinary amount of canonic activity.

Despite its length the quintet never comes across as a laborious exercise. It is a friendly and open piece of generous gestures, lyricism, playfulness and surprise. The lento arioso for example is an operatic cantabile, full of sentiment, which builds towards a conclusion almost heart-rending in its simple poignancy. The minuet is a fleet, shimmering, light-footed Mendelssohnian scherzo that occasionally erupts into a boisterous, rustic whoop of merriment. It is in the Finale that Reicha's love of the fugue really hits its stride. The movement is an epic gallop through all the unexpected modulations, thematic modifications and explosive interruptions its material can take. A wild ride indeed, but one nonetheless held back from running utterly amok by the firm reins of internal logic and structural cohesion.

A few decades earlier, in late eighteenth century Paris, we find at work another highly regarded pedagogue and composer, François Devienne. Very much in vogue at the time was the symphonie concertante, or concerto for two or more instruments. The Parisian audiences delighted in the theatrical and ostentatious interplay between soloists who competed in expressive power as much as in virtuosity. Again we find wind instrumentalists featured with great frequency, including in the often-performed music of Devienne, himself a celebrated flautist and bassoonist. Devienne composed very readily and painlessly, which one feels immediately in the easy inspiration and spontaneity of his musical ideas. The melodies are always lively with an infectious forward rhythmic impulse and natural logic of dimensions, creating a flowing line that avoids all rigidity at phrase-ends and cadences. As charming and gracious as it is, the music is never superficial. Not only does Devienne display an excellent sense of humour; there are often moments of true drama and suspense.

The three quartets, Op.73, of Devienne are clearly infused by the spirit of the symphonie concertante. The melodic material and bravura passage work is shared fairly equally between the “soloists” on bassoon and violin; the viola and cello are mostly in accompanying roles, though their lines are often independently interesting with the occasional solistic outburst. The third movement of the Quartet no.3 in F is a theme with variations, allowing each of the instruments its turn to play the role of diva, expressively and virtuosically.

(c) 2010 Jane Gower