The Takács Quartet, which performed to a nearly sold-out Finney Chapel last Friday night, is considered one of the greatest chamber ensembles performing right now. Their recordings of Beethoven, Schubert and Bartók on the Decca Records Ltd. label have been highly acclaimed. There is no doubt that they possess a mysterious, seemingly telepathic ability to function as a single unit, as all great ensembles do.

The performance was, on the whole, satisfying. Still, while there was much to admire in their playing, I couldn’t help wondering if the amazingly extravagant praise this group has received in the music press isn’t a bit overblown. The Cleveland Plain Dealer’s claim, for example, that the Takács play Beethoven’s late quartets “better than any quartet of the past or present” is surely an exaggeration. Perhaps they were simply a notch or two below their best on Friday night.

The opening work, Haydn’s String Quartet in C Major, Op. 74, No. 1 received a thoroughly musical, reasonably engaging performance that fell a little short on surprise. The tone of the first violinist, Edward Dusinberre, was occasionally edgy and febrile. The fast tempi in all four movements tended to skate over the surface of the music, though the virtuosity displayed in the finale was impressive. Compounding the blandness of the whole performance was the fact that, good though it is, this is not one of Haydn’s most memorable quartets.

The Takács seemed to be on firmer ground in the next work, Bartók’s String Quartet No. 5.  The outer movements received aggressive, driving readings that pulled no punches; the ferocity of the music was fully conveyed and the precision of the ensemble was close to flawless. And the folksy Scherzo had plenty of spice and personality. Still, the highlight of the performance was the mysterious Adagio molto. The soft playing at the opening was stupendous — the music seemed to emerge out of thin air. Throughout the movement, the players maintained a mesmerizingly hypnotic level of concentration.

The concert ended on a warmer note with Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet in A major, K.581. Franklin Cohen, principal clarinetist of the Cleveland Orchestra, took the clarinet part. There were a few quibbles here and there: The first movement development whisked by a little too fast; Cohen, though his tone was lovely and his phrasing musical, didn’t seize the spotlight as much as he could have; and Dunsinberre still displayed an occasional edge to his tone. Despite this, everyone sounded engaged with the music and with each other, and the awesome beauty of the first two movements in particular came over fully.