by Sidney S. Stark
The phrase ‘play it by ear’ has many nuances of meaning in both its literal and figurative iterations. The one we’re all most familiar with refers to the musical ability to perform a piece without notation. The furthest extreme of that version is probably represented by the prodigious skill of the child composer Mozart who apparently was able to recreate a piece he’d heard only once to exact musically notated perfection right from his head. That certainly fulfills the technical requirements of playing by ear but seems to take them to a level of neurological wizardry that transcends the phrase’s meaning. A musician like Duke Ellington or Paul McCartney falls more squarely in the middle of the definition. Their compositions embrace the entrepreneurial, improvisational requirements that lead the phrase on to its less literal leanings.
To ‘play it by ear’ when there’s no music involved, one has to be ready to accept that a decision must be made without a plan. The lack of preparation and organization parallels music’s improvisation. There is no sheet music with little black notes on it in the latter, and likewise there is no outline, list or reservation in the former. It takes natural talent and the personality to support uncertainty to pull off either type of playing by ear. I admit I’m better at the musical kind than I’ve ever been at life’s improvisation, and I think I know why.
I grew up with a father who refused to be corralled by a plan. Whether it was a decision about where to send me to school or when to make a reservation for a ski vacation during the holidays, his favorite response to the query was ‘let’s just play it by ear’. The obvious avoidance of ultimate responsibility was frustrating at best and infuriating at worst, so my mother and I became almost allergic to the retort and in fact the entire phrase no matter what its connection. She finally solved the dilemma by making the decisions herself without announcing them and so when my father eventually came around (often too late to accomplish the task at hand) we could pretend to rush off to do his bidding. We took enormous secret delight in getting to the end result we wanted without disturbing my father’s irresponsible soul.
It’s no wonder I’ve developed the need to finish every plan and control every outcome as an adult, but it’s not a trait I’ve found useful. Add to that conditioned response the innate desire to prepare for the unexpected and you have a control freak run amok. But it’s not quite that bad for me. Yes I love dress rehearsals and preparing as well as possible for exams, but I do know when to let go. The need to tie everything up in neat packages may be understandable but it’s simply not practical nor does it leave room for life to happen on its own. I’m searching for the ideal balance between an overt denial of responsibility and the covert desire to manage every outcome. There should be plenty of room between the two for negotiation.
And in the meantime, when someone asks me what I’m planning to do with my novel when I’ve finished writing it, I tell them at the moment I’m just playing it by ear.
Question@You: Can you find the right balance between too loose and too tight?