A New Canning Process

It was quite a revelation to attend an early music concert in the company of a friend from the swimming pool.  Ordinarily I go to concerts by myself so that I don't have to be polite while enjoying myself, or not.  This woman, who avowedly knew absolutely nothing about the music on the program, had had a wonderful life as an impassioned actress.

Her astute ear detected the underlying affect of melancholy in the sound of the viols.  "How different from the Italian opera-inspired violin!" she remarked.  But the real astonishment was her observation that this group played like students.

Indeed.  I know the style and can tell when a hidden counter-meter is missing; I know the ironic twists that cause melancholy to take off its mask, for just the tiniest peek at real life.  But she could hear the caution; she could feel the absence of derring-do.

So now I add the PhD to the list of canning processes, this one having the effect of phreezing.  (Question: Who is more paralyzed in the process: player or reader of the program notes?)