Thoughts of a late night knitter*

* with apologies to Pam Ayers for re-using the title of her poem.

I like to knit but I'm not a gifted knitter. My only pretension to knitting talent lies in my persistence. I enjoy knitting and I'm willing to keep going with a project in spite of set-backs.

The set-backs can be significant: one sweater I've almost finished has been knitted up about 3 different times, if you count one complete re-knit (about to sew up when I realised it was the wrong size and the style wouldn't suit me). Also several times I've had to pull back several inches to correct mistakes. The (nearly) finished garment won't be perfect, but it won't have gratuitous and major errors that leave it holey or the wrong size. It will be a workable, wearable garment when done.

This reminds me - again, and if any reminder were needed - just how unnecessary talent is when we do any art or craft. Talent may be necessary if we crave fame and fortune from our skills. If our aims are more modest, and we can be satisfied with doing our art or craft, and improving as best we can, we can enjoy the journey. At least with knitting I never say, "I'd love to knit, but its a waste of time as I don't think I'd be any good." (A lot of would-be music learners tell me that.) Most of us don't believe we have to be particularly talented to produce a scarf, so we're not put off starting.

I persist with knitting not because I am bloody-minded, as a penitential exercise, but because I enjoy the process of knitting. I enjoy getting it when I get into a rhythm, I enjoy the magic of creating fabric and garments out of string and thin air. I even get a perverse pleasure from recognising a mistake, and pulling my work back to correct it. I enjoy getting better at knitting, even though progress is sometimes (often) slow.

I also enjoy it more when I recognise my limits - my current limits - so I stick with new projects that only contain one new technique, rather than diving straight into something so complex I am guaranteed frustration and failure.

Many beginner or intermediate musicians aren't pleased with the simple songs they play well - the equivalent of scarves or hats knitted well in attractive and appealing colours - they insist on tackling Debussy or Beethoven. Which, if your skill level isn't up to it yet, is like a complex lace knitting pattern in an unusual yarn on non-standard sized needles. You may more-or-less complete the project. It may reflect a high degree of technical mastery, but by the end maybe no-one wants to wear the rather odd-looking garment. Very disheartening after all the valuable work that has gone into it.

Interval at the concert has more dramas than on stage

I attended a concert this afternoon. It was lovely. Great chamber ensemble, great bass baritone, interesting program of short works. Good concert companion. Check.
The bar at interval was insane. I sane as in 'insanely busy' but also just insane. For the rest of this post I am channeling my inner old trout, so please avert your eyes if you are easily distressed.
At a large concert You have hundreds of people needing a drink in just 20 minutes. The bars are stuck down the end of a corridor and not big enough - when the venue was built the gentleman of the party took refreshments out to his ladies. It was Bedlam.
The menu is limited but there are four varieties of wine plus beer and soft drink, ice-cream and chocolates. There are three (maybe four) staff in a very cramped space only one of whom is capable - or perhaps allowed? - to run the till. One chap required more than five minutes to fail to pour some bubbles. All drinks are poured on request rather than being pre-poured. Perhaps it theoretically saves on waste but not when offset against lost customer revenue. The coffee, at least has been brewed and is in those catering thermoset thingies. Few souls were so hardy or desperate.
The icecreams are in a fridge the servers cannot reach, and many patrons are confused to be told to go fetch their over-priced icecreams themselves. As this is the Sunday matinee, several patrons have limited mobility with which to do so (and they've yet to visit the facilities in the few minutes that remain of interval, so its a bit of a worry and this turns them Bolshie).
Surely the profits are greater the more items you sell? Especially at $9 for a very small plastic flute of vin ordinaire bubbly from chateau iffy. I would like to say the staff rose to the challenge with some show of resourcefulness or even forethought or willingness, but I'm afraid there was no evidence of this. Only the senior on the till attempted to get things moving, the others looked to be enduring the twenty minutes until it was over. With a total absence of work pride and an excess of helplessness, I image the time went even slower for them than it did for those of us stuck in the queue. I imagine they are all casuals and have no training. The venue is only used for concerts on occasion. But still... It didn't have to be like that. Talk about Moments of Truth!
This is post 26 of 43 posts.
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Do I like this music or do I appreciate it?

Some music I like.  Some music I love.  Some music I appreciate.  And some music, none of the above.

No one can tell us we're wrong to like (or dislike) a piece of music.  They can disagree, but they are inaccurate if they say our opinion is wrong.

I have an appreciation for some music which I seldom choose to listen to, and probably will never put on my iPod playlist.  Yet when I do hear it, I might be struck by its beauty, or its complexity or its catchiness or something else.  I might think the composer is a terribly clever individual, if only for catching a moment of the zeitgeist and setting it to a 1-4-5 chord progression!

It's interesting to ask yourself why you do (or don't) like a particular piece of music.

I like some music because it's relaxing.  A bit of light classical, mainstream jazz or blues, middle of the road acoustic pop/rock.

I like some music because it creates a mood of formality, expectation etc. If you go to a cocktail party, its always good to hear some upbeat music that people can talk over to get the party going.  Some 50s swing or solo guitar or piano-bar style piano, maybe.  If you go to a wedding, you know when the bride is coming down the aisle, because there will be appropriate music.

I like some music because it motivates me and makes manual tasks go faster. Try doing the housework to 50s rock'n'roll.

I like some music because I understand it, I have some grasp of what is happening and what the composer's intention was.  There is an extra level of satisfaction in listening to such music.

I like some music because its demanding and hard - I don't understand it, and I have to work to appreciate it.  I find music in this category takes all my attention - its not background music, and to enjoy it I have to really listen.  Ravel's trios for violin, cello and piano fell into this category for me.  So does some experimental jazz. 

I like some music because it makes me daydream or see colours or patterns.

I like some music because it reminds me of a particular memory or time in my life.  Cliff Richard's Wired for Sound will always remind me of a beach trip in 1981.  Don Henley's Boys of Summer and Pat Benatar's We Belong were the summer anthems of 1984.

I like some music because it makes me feel part of group. Football theme songs, school songs, and Men at Work's I come from a land Downunder fall into this category.

I may hate some music because of any or all of the above reasons too.  

The main reason I grow to hate a particular piece of music is its tendency to become "earworm" - the song you can't get out of your head, no matter how hard you try.  Into this category fall all the humorous songs of Monty Python, and the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack and more recently, anything by Katy Perry.

So the next time you hear a piece of music, and think, "I don't like that..." see if you can find a way to appreciate it -- or at least appreciate what it is you don't like.