Интересное разделение между музыкой исполняемой и музыкой слушаемой делает Ролан Барт в эссе Musica Practica. У меня, к сожалению, только неважный перевод на английский (сб. Image, Music, Text, пер. Stephen Heath), но на русский, кажется, вообще не переводилось.

There are two musics (at least so I have always thought): the music one listens to, the music one plays. These two musics are two totally different arts, each with its own history, its own sociology, its own aesthetics, its own erotic; the same composer can be minor if you listen to him, tremendous if you play him (even badly) - such is Schumann.
The music one plays comes from an activity that is very little auditory, being above all manual (and thus in a way much more sensual). It is the music which you or I can play, alone or among friends, with no other audience than its participants (that is, with all risk of theatre, all temptation of hysteria removed); a muscular music in which the part taken by the sense of hearing is one only of ratification, as though the body were hearing - and not 'the soul'; a music which is not played 'by heart': seated at the keyboard or the music stand, the body controls, conducts, co-ordinates, having itself to transcribe what it reads, making sound and meaning, the body as inscriber and not just transmitter, simple receiver. This music has disappeared; initially the province of the idle (aristocratic) class, it lapsed into an insipid social rite with the coming of the democracy of the bourgeoisie (the piano, the young lady, the drawing room, the nocturne) and then faded out altogether (who plays the piano today?). To find practical music in the West, one has now to look to another public, another repertoire, another instrument (the young genera-tion, vocal music, the guitar). Concurrently, passive, recep-- music, sound music, is become the music (that of concert, festival record, radio): playing has ceased to exist; musical activity is no longer manual, muscular, kneadingly physical but merely liquid, effusive, 'lubrificating', to take up a word from Balzac. So too has the performer changed. The amateur, a role defined much more by a style than by a technical imperfection, is no longer anywhere to be found: the professionals, pure specialists whose training remains entirely esoteric for the public (who is there who is still acquainted with the problems of musical education?) never offer that style of the perfect amateur the great value of which could still be recognized in a Lipati or a Panzera touching off in us not satisfaction but desire, the desire to make that music. In short, there was first the actor of music then the interpreter (the grand Romantic voice), then finally the technician, who relieves the listener of all activity, even by procuration, and abolishes in the sphere of music the very notion of doing.