These must be among the earliest of oboe quintets, either on or off record. They are also among the least familiar; but of course not at all necessarily among the least rewarding on that account. Most rewarding, to my ears, is the Crussel; and it is good to see such a long-neglected composer now at last coming into his own. A divertimento as such is far from unusual for wind; but this one, in a single continuous movement (with varied sections) certainly is. The sections add up to a normal balance of (roughly) quick-slow-quick, the slow particularly effective in its evocation of Mozart's favourite G minor laments by deserted sopranos (there is a difference, though: probably none of Mozart's sopranos ever played the oboe so well as this). Throughout Crusell, himself a wind-player, treates the oboe as leader, and throughout he writes the most elegant and varied of music.
There will, of course, also be those listeners whose fancy turns more readily to Kreutzer, who quite understandably (after Beethoven's dedication nobody could forget he was primarily a violinist) promotes the leading violin to something nearer equality with the oboe; and who also writes elegant music in the process. And those listeners, too, whose fancy turnst to Reicha, who also holds a balance between the co-leaders (himself both a string and a wind player), and writes more extended music of considerable warmth (with an agreeable minuet which keeps trying to turn into a waltz).
All three works have the benefit of playing, balance, and recording of the first class. And all benefit from uninterrupted performance; the relative brevity of Crusell and Kreutzer allowing their quintets to occupy comfortably one side of the LP, Reicha's more expansive work the other.'