Smetana's Second Quartet is less often played than his First, but it's cut from the same cloth, and the composer considered it a direct sequel. It's an expression of anguish at his deafness, interspersed with wistful interludes, particularly the polka in the second movement. Smetana's quartets may be played to emphasize lyric feeling, but the Prazak opted to bring out the drama and sorrow in the work, with strong accents and turbulent fast tuttis alternating with solos anguished in their loneliness. Dark and bright spots flashed by in alternation.

Janácek's Second Quartet, titled “Intimate Letters,” reflects the one-sided love affair of his last years with a younger woman. It's full of intense passion, but Janácek was by no means a tender or warm composer, and the music couldn't be mistaken for the throbbing soundtrack of a romantic film. Again the Prazak gave a tough dramatic reading, running hard motor rhythms in the accompaniment to solo passages. In more contrapuntal moments, each voice seemed to go its own way without sacrificing unity. Violist Josef Kluson particularly shone in his solos, producing appropriately weird and spooky sounds for the ponticello opening theme and the strange flautato passage in the second movement. This was above all a performance full of character and, in the finale, a glint of humor as well.

This touch made a good transition to the second half, for Dvorák was one of the least anguished or self-obsessed composers in history. His “American” Quartet is a genial expression of joy at finding himself spending the summer of 1893 in the Czech colony of Spillville, Iowa, after a hard and lonely year running the National Conservatory in New York. Like all his American-inspired works, it has more rigid, regular structures than are typical of the more rhapsodic music he wrote at home, and it needs a light touch to come off well in performance. After the dark, introspective first half of this concert I was not expecting the Prazak Quartet to provide that light touch so well, but the common thread of their interpretations is a keen sensitivity to the character of the music. This performance was a complete delight, with intimate solos nicely contrasting with galumphing fast passages driven by dotted rhythms in Michal Kanka's cello. At the end of the piece the audience leapt to their feet, and justifiably so, though I thought the Janácek, less of a crowd-pleaser but supremely well characterized, was an even better performance.

The “American” Quartet was preceded by four movements from Dvorák's Cypresses – one of which, yes, has a viola solo. These were not knocked off as bonbons, but played as if they formed a whole quartet as serious and worthy of respect as the “American.” And for an encore, we had the galloping finale that gives Haydn's “Rider” Quartet, Op. 74 No. 3, its name. Like the Dvorák works, it was played with every ounce of charm that could be brought to a witty piece by a most genial composer.