Music Divides Us Into Makers and Lovers

Working through an old issue of The New Yorker, I came across an article (transcribed here) about a former pianist, now piano salesperson, with an uncanny ability to match players with their perfect instruments. It's an interesting read that delves into the unique sound produced by pianos, among other things. Apparently, they're like snowflakes.

Reading it, I unearthed a mini revelation in the disguise of an afterthought statement: "Like her father, and like many other talented musicians, Erica had an aptitude for math". Finally, a justification for my lack of musicality. It's math's bloody fault. My friend M happened upon me just after this discovery so I asked her what she thought about it. She replied, pretty nonchalantly, that music is a mathematical language. I'd never consdidered it in those terms before but I suppose it's fairly obvious what with measuring beats in 4/4 time and the whole business. Don't let all those lettered notes deceive you. A's and F's are an alphabetic ruse.

Appreciating music extensively while simultaneously not having a clue about how to make it is a kind of torture. I wonder if the fact that I found math hard but got decent grades means it's not too late to find music hard but soldier on through dedicated practice to achieve a tolerable proficiency. Never mind that sheet music is baffling or that I give off a bassist's vibe - drum kit, I'm yours.