Musicians are relatively fortunate: there are other ways to increase the freshness and inspiration of their work. For example, in September I spent two fascinating evenings watching classical musicians improvise. Standard for jazzers, de rigueur for classical virtuosi 100 years ago, improvisation is now virtually unheard-of in classical concerts. Note-perfect recreative performances have dominated since the recording era kicked in. The downside is that we don't often sense that the performer is enjoying communicating music to the audience. Without "play" — a sense of immediate response and the freedom to "play with" the music rather than just rendering it note-perfect — a performance can sound distinctly dull.

I went to the Guildhall School of Music and Drama to hear three Mozart piano concertos being played in chamber music format by three groups who have been studying the art of classical improvisation. The event was led by Professor John Irving, a distinguished Mozart scholar, and the pianist David Dolan, who teaches improvisation in the classical style. The concertos, K413, 414 and 415, all featured improvised cadenzas, but the concept went further: the string players also extemporised — for instance, embellishments to repeated figures — and their colleagues would "reply". Everyone seemed energised by the necessity of living in the moment. The music danced by and the animated discussion afterwards proved that the musicians' enhanced involvement with their creative process had in turn strengthened the audience's engagement with them.

The next night, I encountered the musical volcano that is the Venezuelan pianist Gabriela Montero. In a Classic FM Live concert at the Royal Albert Hall, she played the Grieg Piano Concerto, but followed it with a solo improvisation, her trademark. She transfixed the hall with spontaneous music, rich, glistening and organic, which could have passed for a Bach-Busoni showpiece, yet was based on a melody presented to her by the lead cellist, moments before: the theme tune of EastEnders. While the Guildhall team approached improvisation through conscious, detailed musical analysis, Montero told me afterwards that she has no idea how she does it. "It's like water that gushes out," she said.

A case of left brain/right brain, perhaps: two approaches to the same idea from opposite directions. Both showed the joys of "playing with" music as well as "playing" it. Montero's comment is closest to Ryan Giggs: while improvising, she's at her most instinctive.