Over the last nine years, the Sacconis have been quietly building themselves a reputation, which they enhanced at last week’s concert for the British Music Society.

Currently they seem to be on a Czech mission. This gave us not only Smetana and Dvorak, but even a Suk encore. Their Beethoven curtain-raiser was the only work of the four that never quite settled. In that, it reflected the composer’s own uncertainty with the medium in 1798.

For Beethoven’s Op 18, No 3 in D was the first string quartet he completed. Still in thrall to “Papa” Haydn, yet wanting to make a statement of his own, he finds himself Janus-like facing in two directions. The Sacconis, always meticulous, were too cautious in their approach. Physically speaking, they were trying too hard, swaying unreasonably. Only in the finale was there any genuine electricity.

The Czechs fared far better. Smetana’s First Quartet From My Life opens with a viola cadenza, which Robin Ashwell dug into urgently. It proved infectious, underpinning the whole movement.

Similarly, Cara Berridge’s opening cello melancholy permeated the largo. The finale’s high “tinnitus” chillingly reflected the composer’s resignation to deafness.

The American Quartet, Dvorak’s twelfth, is often described as sunny. But its central two movements were quite rightly anything but in this account, tinged with dark colours. The closing vivace restored a happy balance. Suk’s Meditation On The Hymn St Wenceslas was a most welcome seasonal extra.