It’d be a grey day indeed that couldn’t be brightened by Dvořák’s chamber music, and I don’t think it was the vivid orange artwork alone that made this new album from the Talich Quartet feel like quite such a ray of sunshine. Foolish to judge on first impressions, of course, but on first listening there’s a freshness, and a big, upfront open-heartedness about the playing here that – heard ‘blind’ – would not necessarily lead you to conclude that this was an ensemble with a six-generation heritage, in its third decade under the leadership of first violinist Jan Talich.

On further reflection, and more detailed listening, that pedigree sounds a little more evident. You can hear (and the recorded sound is both natural and clean) that this is an old-school ‘top-down’ quartet, with the ensemble sound finely layered beneath Talich’s sweet, fluid violin tone. There’s just a faint sense that when, for example, viola player Radim Sedmidubský launches the American Quartet, we’re hearing a beautifully shaped ‘solo’ rather than an equal voice in a conversation.

But these performances are none the worse for it, and the rarities – the six (out of eight) Op 54 Waltzes that have not previously been recorded by a quartet (the transcriptions are by Jiří Kabát, lately of the Pavel Haas Quartet) and the F major quartet movement – have an irresistible buoyancy and lilt: very much Bohemian rather than Viennese. The sense of enjoyment is audible; pizzicatos are deliciously nutty and ripe, and there’s a kick to the group’s rhythms that puts an electrical tingle through their spirited but otherwise unshowy account of the American Quartet. If the repertoire appeals, these interpretations will give a lot of (not unsophisticated) pleasure.