Not many string quartets programme Dvorak's "American" Quartet next to Shostakovich's No 11; somewhere in between there's a headlong plummet from one of the most optimistic works in the repertoire to one of the bleakest. But not many quartets are as fully in control as the Takacs, and what might have looked like dartboard repertoire selection emerged as a brilliantly balanced programme.

The Dvorak was shot through with a coursing energy and a sense of wide-open space; he may have got only as far as New York, but you could breathe the air of the prairies listening to this. And yet the music is at the same time unmistakably Czech, with pre-echoes of Janacek in the most sparingly textured passages. The slow movement, though, is unambiguous homesickness; the nostalgic violin melody, played with a huge, heart-tugging vibrato by Edward Dusinberre and poignantly answered by Andras Fejer's cello, should have left any Czechs in the audience sobbing.

Moments later, the opening of the Shostakovich made this all seem like so much naive indulgence. This is not what we think of as the Takacs' signature repertoire, but there is no reason why it should not be. The music's eerie numbness was captured with stark assurance, never more so than in the dehumanised see-sawing with which Karoly Schranz's violin coerced the rest into the funeral march towards the end.

After this, the temptation to let rip in Brahms's Piano Quintet in F minor must have been great. But, boosted by the presence of pianist Stephen Hough, the Takacs wisely kept the passion on a long leash, meaning that the moments of high triumph in the gloriously propulsive scherzo and of high drama in the finale made maximum impact. Hough and the Takacs are about to record this, and the result will be something to listen out for: chamber music does not get much better.