I struck gold at No. 40 on Rákóczi út in Budapest. First impressions were pretty dazzling, but I wanted to dig right down to 1898. And as it turned out based on what I found there, my first impression turned out to be wholly accurate. It concerned the renowned Müller family. The great-grandfather was Austrian, Rezső Müller the Elder; he came to Hungary from the Lauberger & Gloss factory in Vienna at the invitation of the Hungarian Royal Opera House, some fourteen years after the opera house had opened. He was responsible for tuning and maintaining the opera house pianos up until 1939. This was perhaps one of the most significant heydays for Hungarian musical instrument making and trade. Today, it is difficult to imagine that many leading instrument workshops, including piano workshops and factories existed in Hungary at that time. For example, the founder and owner of the Beregszászy piano factory was responsible for countless innovations, including improvements to the soundboard, which were adopted by the rest of the famous factories. This particular innovation made fundamental changes to the way pianos were made. In this period, Rezső Müller the Elder became a leading authority of the time, which was an especially great achievement, given the situation described above and the exceptional competition in the field. His son, Rezső Müller the younger, learnt the trade from his father; later he worked at Endre Thék’s piano factory, before setting up independently. He continued working right up until 1978, including overseeing the tuning of the Hungarian State Opera House pianos. Craftsman László Müller holds a golden diploma. He also learned the craft from his father. Since 1959, he has been working independently and he has been a master craftsman since 1966. His son, György Müller studied engineering and joined the workshop in 1990, where he presently works as a master piano-maker. Müller Piano customers are artists from the Hungarian world of music: opera singers, composers, conductors and pianists. As well as tuning and concert tuning, the company specialises in restoring old pianos from well-known piano makers, in keeping with modern standards. Over the past century or so, the family has received numerous honours for their work. In the piano showroom, I met György Müller, who has in his hands the knowledge and experience of at least 108 years. As well as being perhaps the leading Hungarian expert in his field, this young master piano-maker is also skilled hunter and gourmet chef: he cooks brilliantly and has a great appetite for food and life – a thoroughly agreeable personality. But of most interest to me is the intangible connection between György Müller and pianos. In some sense, this is a kind of aristocracy; every detail of this connection is refined and confident. This only possible for someone with a sense of vocation, because the whole connection is mellowed by age as it is passed down the generations. The sense of vocation belongs to the individual and is something which can be acquired, the rest is obviously inherited. The perfect situation is where they both come together, as they do in the case of György Müller.

 
 
There is no shiny glass door or clamorous adverts in this street-level workshop. You could be stepping fifty or even a hundred years into the past. Just as the instruments being made here now will still be played fifty and one hundred years from now or even longer. Because behind this modest, muted façade, great deeds are afoot… great deeds… perhaps not in worldly terms, but certainly in terms of the eternal values of art.

The Hungarian cimbalom is a trapezium-shaped instrument, with steel strings. There are wrest-planks on the left and right sides, which hold the strings. The wrest-planks were originally made out of hardwood (beech), but nowadays, they may also be made from other kinds of laminated wood. The wrest pins are on the left side and the tuning pins are on the right. Modern Bohák-type cimbaloms have a range from C major to A3. Individual instruments may vary however, and I have seen a bass cimbalom extended with the minor third.

Conversation with István Láng
 
 
I and István Láng, composer stood on the balcony of his flat, watching trees, cars, observing the traffic of Budapest and, at the same time, asking about music. Almost immediately, a slight misunderstanding occurred between us and later I discovered a hidden modesty in the personality of the artist. “You spent a lot of time abroad  so was your attitude influenced by such periods?” He answered immediately, without thinking. “I have not lived abroad.” It is a special modesty and I realised it during the one or two hours spent there that it is part of his personality. The intensive internal life and the own logic of existence characteristic of István Láng results in that he often or almost always responds to questions than expected. He always kept on looking for new and special solutions and he finds these. It is an individual existence. While István Láng lives in a natural environment: his grandchild was playing with an electric train, and when we sat down we got a real black coffee. We started to talk. Somehow, the administrative forms of higher education were mentioned, including preparatory classes, the College, Academy classes, the Music Academy and the University of Music.
 

When the subject of violin making comes up, then most from people outside the profession usually think of one of two names: Stradivari and Guarneri – without first names.  The better informed may be dimly aware of “Amati” too. Please do not misunderstand me:  I do not wish to denigrate the layman or woman. After all, there are many who have a great passion for music and in case, it is hardly their fault that there is so little good literature on the world of music instruments and musical instrument makers. This is what came to my mind when Máté Domonkos got in touch with me to raise the idea of starting a column in this publication, which would introduce readers to Hungary’s most illustrious musical instrument makers. So let us begin: allow me to introduce you to Sámuel Nemessányi, master violin maker!

When the idea of a series on significant Hungarian instrument makers arose, neither Máté Domonkos (whose idea it was) nor the author of the articles envisaged that we would stick to any kind of chronological order. Nobody mentioned it. Therefore, we are going backwards in time somewhat now and continuing with Sámuel Nemessányi’s teacher: Johann Baptist Schweitzer.  
 

paraphrases of entirety
 
Conversation with János Decsényi
 
 
János Decsényi pays attention to other people and to details. This is very important and his attitude as a composer implies that widening spaces develop into, so to say, micro-cosmogonies by way of attention and delicacy. The weight and value of meanings starts from the authenticity of observation and experience and embraces an individual world, that being the own world of János Decsényi.
 
I arrive at Bródy Sándor street because we chose the pagoda of the Radio as the venue of the meeting since he is engaged in almost constant work. In the first half of the week he works in the Radio and then he spends his time in his country house with his family, together with his grandchildren. He confesses later smiling that “I love to compose music in Göd because of the silence and tranquillity. The grandchildren go to the riverside and I am able to compose. Naturally, the temptation is high and several times I cannot resist to go with them to the Danube. On such days there is no composition”.