This month, New Yorkers have had the opportunity to sample some of the most esteemed string quartets in the world. Last week, the Emerson String Quartet played at Zankel Hall. Two nights ago, the Orion String Quartet played at Alice Tully Hall. And this Sunday afternoon, the Brentano String Quartet will also play at Alice Tully. I’m sure I’ve left out other esteemed string quartets that have performed in New York this month. My apologies to them.

The Orion is quartet in residence at the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. They consist of the two Phillips brothers, Daniel and Todd, who are violinists, plus the violist Steven Tenenbom and the cellist Timothy Eddy. Before Wednesday’s concert began, one of the brothers – I’m sorry I can’t tell you which – announced that the pro gram was a tribute, of sorts, to Felix Galimir, the late violinist, and leader of the Galimir String Quartet. All four Orions had worked with him; two of them – the non-Phillipses – had actually played in the GSQ. Wednesday’s program consisted of three works that Galimir would frequently program; and he had personal connections to two of the composers.

The concert began with Haydn’s String Quartet in G, Op. 77, No. 1. No, this was not one of the composers whom Galimir knew. Op. 77, No. 1 is one of Haydn’s best string quartets, which is saying something. It opens with a pert, bouncy Allegro moderato – and the OSQ played it that way. They were full-bodied and bold, but respectful (of Classicism). A huge felicity covered this movement. Technically, they were clicking like a well-coordinated machine. Their sound was far from honeyed – it had some grain in it, which made the sound all the more interesting, and masculine. In fact, this movement sounded a bit like Beethoven, who, at the time this work was written, was 18.

The Adagio had all the swellings that Haydn requires. And the third movement – Menuetto: Presto – was more sprightly and bright than it needed to be. I intend that as a compliment. This movement had great, and slightly unexpected, drama – and it ended with a deft touch of Haydnesque humor.

After all this energy and commitment, would the final movement – also marked Presto – have enough juice? Sure. No problem.

The concert continued with one of Schonberg’s greatest works, and one of the greatest works in the chamber-music literature: that composer’s Quartet No. 2, which employs a soprano. Schonberg wrote this during a pivotal moment of his life, and the work is, indeed, transformational.

The OSQ played the first movement with both heart and head. In the second movement – a kind of scherzo – they conveyed what I might describe as a desperate hopefulness; one also heard a hunted quality. Eventually, this music goes off kilter – a little nuts – then returns to its opening material, which again had that desperateness, and huntedness.

In the third movement, the soprano joins in, and she was Susan Narucki, an American who devotes much of her career to contemporary music. She handled Schonberg’s intervals gamely, and she got up to top notes rather excitingly. Beauty of voice was not in evidence, but neither was it necessary. I cannot say that this was a heartrending traversal of the third movement (“Litanei,” text by Stefan George). But the music and words contain enough of that themselves. And the string players were powerful in their lamentations.

I should tell you that, at the beginning of the fourth movement, I had never heard the subway under Alice Tully so loud. We complain – justly – about the loudness of the Zankel Hall subway; the Alice Tully subway was almost as intrusive. Furthermore, Ms. Narucki had trouble with audibility over – or through – the OSQ. Still, we could hear that she was cool, unrelenting, and fairly ethereal, amid those agitated strings. She made Schonberg’s points. The last line of the text (again, Stefan George) is, “I am only a roaring of the holy voice.” I cannot say that Ms. Narucki was either roaring or holy – but she did the job.

As for the strings, their agitation, in time, ceased, and they floated away – leaving the here-and-now for something better.

After Schonberg’s Quartet No. 2, one needs a break, and intermission was welcome. When they returned, the OSQ performed one of the most skillful and pleasing string quartets of all: the Ravel, written a few years before Schonberg’s No. 2. In my view, the opening movement should have an effortlessness, and the OSQ did not quite have that. Also, their tones might have been thinner – more French, if you will. But as they savored Ravel’s strange harmonies, so did we.

The second movement – a scherzo not labeled that way – was darker than you normally hear it, and also slightly heavier. But the Orions were not incompetent, and they executed Ravel’s shiverings marvelously. In the slow section of this movement, they did some beautiful sighing, and this was especially true of the cellist, Mr. Eddy.

I consider the third movement one of Ravel’s finest songs, and the OSQ sang it nicely; Mr. Tenenbom was astoundingly warm on his viola. Unfortunately, the OSQ’s intonation problems were more marked here than elsewhere.

The finale, they attacked with the crispness, assurance, and authority of the Haydn G major. This movement was a thing of tumultuous beauty. But that Haydn! Good as this entire concert would be, nothing topped it.