With my family I attended a concert given by the Busch Quartet in the Singakademie, a hall corresponding in capacity and function to Paris’s Conservatoire hall, but unlike it, rectangular in shape. Impressed as I was by the integrity of the quartet’s playing, what most struck me was a first hearing of music by Max Reger, an unexportable composer such as every culture produces, who so concentrates the ethos of a country that his music is incomprehensible anywhere else.