Antoine Reicha (1770–1836) has recently attracted increasing interest from both scholars and performers. Born in Bohemia, he pursued his career in Bonn, Hamburg and Vienna, before spending the latter part of his life in Paris. In Bonn he was acquainted with Ludwig van Beethoven, and in Paris he was appointed professor of counterpoint and fugue at the Conservatoire in 1818, teaching composers such as Hector Berlioz, Franz Liszt and César Franck. While his name is occasionally mentioned in the biographies of such ‘great composers’, his own works – despite his prolific output across a wide range of genres – have rarely been performed in modern times. However, developments since the 2010s have been remarkable: conferences devoted to Reicha have been held, and collections of essays published.Footnote ¹ As with Beethoven, the 250th anniversary of Reicha’s birth in 2020 – despite the impact of the pandemic – provided the impetus for numerous events.Footnote ² Reicha was not only a composer but also an author of many theoretical writings, which have increasingly been published and studied. In parallel with this scholarly trend, modern editions of Reicha’s works have appeared in quick succession, leading to new recordings and making his music far more accessible.Footnote ³

Among the most significant contributors to this ‘boom’, particularly in the field of music publishing, is Michael Bulley, the editor of the four scores introduced in this score review. Bulley has edited numerous Reicha scores: since 2014 he has collaborated with Symétrie, focusing on editions of Reicha’s solo piano works. Whereas Reicha has long been valued by wind players – his wind quintets were highly regarded in his lifetime and have remained readily available – the same cannot be said for his piano music, string ensembles, or orchestral works. In what follows, I introduce three plus one scores for different ensembles and consider their significance alongside the diversity of Reicha’s creative output.

The 57 Variations sur un thème de Grétry, Op. 102, was first published in Paris by Zetter in 1824. The original title differs slightly from that of the modern edition: Étude de Piano ou 57 Variations sur un même thème suivies d’un Rondeau (Study for Piano or 57 Variations on a single theme followed by a Rondo). There are thus two differences: the first edition includes the term ‘Étude de Piano’, and the theme is described simply as ‘un Rondeau’, without any mention of ‘de Grétry’.

The modern edition includes only a preface, with no critical commentary, presumably because it adheres closely to the original edition. There are, however, small notational modifications – such as the use of 8va – introduced to enhance readability for contemporary performers. The sole major alteration concerns the time signature of the concluding Rondo: passages originally written in 2/4 with triplets have been recast in 6/8. Bulley explains, ‘it seemed to us that these passages are more naturally heard as having a rhythm of 6/8 and we have therefore written them in that way’ (v). While the actual note values remain unchanged, the perceived rhythmic character would be subtly different. Furthermore, where Reicha indicates ‘jeu céleste’ in Var. 16, 17, 26, 40, and 45, the edition reads ‘jeu céleste/una corda’. Early nineteenth-century pianos, by Érard for example, typically had four pedals: la sourdine, le forté, céleste, and una corda. Thus, although on period instruments, ‘jeu céleste’ and ‘una corda’ were distinct, on modern pianos lacking the céleste mechanism, una corda offers the closest approximation. The music is printed with far more generous spacing than in the original edition, and the page-turns have also been carefully considered.

The Twelve Duos for Violin and Cello, Op. 84 were published by Gambaro in Paris around 1814, issued in two volumes of six pieces each. In the modern edition, both score and parts are provided. Before these duets, there is a short treatise in French, which in this edition is also accompanied by an English translation. Moreover, the concluding section of the treatise, Variations en contrepoint double à l’octave, written in invertible counterpoint, is supplied with separate score and parts.

The editorial work is meticulous, and the critical commentary enumerates divergences from the original edition – chiefly obvious errors in accidentals and the presence or absence of slurs. All appoggiaturas have been rendered in modern notation. Although the original shows several inconsistencies in the use of slurs, the edition deliberately avoids uniformity in similar phrases; performers may nonetheless choose to standardize phrasing where appropriate. In Nos. 5 and 10, the first pieces employ a basso ostinato, which in the original edition is noted simply once; the modern edition writes out the entire passage, a welcome convenience for contemporary performers. In the critical commentary, the various discrepancies – such as those concerning slurs and accidentals – are listed in detail, enabling a clear understanding of the condition of the original sources.

Ouverture générale pour les Séances des Quatuors was never published during Reicha’s lifetime and survives only in manuscript; it appears here in print for the first time. The manuscript, held at the Bibliothèque nationale de France (Ms12035), bears the title on its cover: Ouverture générale pour les Séances des Quatuors ou Vérification de l’accord des instrumens à cordes exécutée par deux violons, alto et violoncelle (General overture for quartet sessions or verification of the tuning of string instruments, performed by two violins, viola and violoncello). As the title suggests, this quartet is highly unique, in that Reicha integrates the very beginning of the performance into the composition itself: in the first movement of the three-movement quartet, he writes instructions such as ‘Accordez votre instrument’ (Tune your instrument) and ‘Allumez vos bougies durant ces pauses’ (Light your candles during these empty bars).

The critical commentary notes that the manuscript of the full score and parts is written neatly, ‘with few doubts about the notes’ (i) – only 12 such instances are listed. The principal editorial challenge lay in the ambiguity of slurs, owing to discrepancies between score and parts and inconsistencies within repeated figures. Bulley has standardized these. For four performers to play together, such standardization is necessary – provided that the discrepancies can be verified in the critical commentary like this edition – and, together with the addition of bar numbers, it results in a score that is considerably more performer-friendly.

The manuscript is dated ‘Paris 1816’, yet there is no account of any performance of it in the composer’s lifetime. A few recent attempts have been made to play from the autograph, but unlike the two works discussed above, this quartet has not, to the reviewer’s knowledge, been recorded or filmed. One hopes that its publication will bring to light a work that reveals Reicha’s humour. In addition, in the context of the current revival of string quartets by lesser-known composers of Beethoven’s era,Footnote ⁴ this modern edition will surely make a valuable contribution.

As has often been noted in recent years, we now live in an age when scores of works whose copyright has expired are freely accessible online, raising anew the question of the purpose of publishing modern editions. Indeed, the three works discussed here are all available in digitized form from the Bibliothèque nationale de France. Reicha’s manuscripts – unlike those of Beethoven – are written in a neat, legible hand, making it feasible to place them on the music stand and perform from them. The first editions, though of somewhat low resolution and not easy to read, present no notational difficulties and could likewise be used for performance without serious impediment. Moreover, unlike works such as those of Frédéric Chopin, where three variant ‘first editions’ pose editorial challenges, the scores available for reference in preparing these modern editions are unique, leaving little scope for interpretative decisions by the editor – a fact reflected in the brevity of the critical commentary compared with that of a typical ‘Urtext’ edition.

Yet this does not render the publication of modern editions meaningless. For the performers, especially, scores with bar numbers, page turns thoughtfully planned, and obvious misprints corrected are immeasurably more practical. Bulley’s editorial work adheres closely to the original sources, whilst also incorporating, where required, practical adjustments that render the editions serviceable for modern performers. Furthermore, a work that appears not merely as a digital file buried among countless others but in the catalogue of an active publisher is far more likely to be performed.

At the end of Symétrie’s score appears a quotation from Berlioz, which may fittingly be repeated here: ‘Over a hundred of Reicha’s compositions have been published and a great number still remain in manuscript, among which many are of the highest importance to the art of music’.Footnote ⁵ Today, one might add to ‘still remain in manuscript’ the phrase ‘or survive only in their first edition’. It is to be hoped that more of Reicha’s works will be published in modern editions, performed, and studied so that the image of Reicha – a highly individual, forward-looking musician who transcended the norms of the nineteenth century – will become clearer.