Our control over so much of our musical performance is indirect. The subtleties can be great — a slight variation in the pace of a melody, a minor variation in the force with which we tap or pull or blow. In those gaps lies artistry. The difference between bowing one way or another on a violin; a fraction of an inch’s difference in how we rest our foot upon the piano’s pedal.
Without this, the music lacks humanity. But sound lacks humanity, intrinsically. Sound is oscillation. We are shaping vibrations in the air much like we might plane wood, to give the arched back of a chair a smoother curve. In the end, is it the grain of the wood we admire, or its shaping? Is it the majesty of harmony built into nature, or is it the humanity we see through the gaps in the intervals?
Diminuendo
Suppose you plucked a string,
And made the silly sound thing
Play a tune and learn to sing.