A recent post of mine on Facebook has prompted the subject of this next blog: Repetition in music.

The subject that caused much debate was my assertion that most bossa nova music is anodyne and dull. My feeling is that this music is formulaic and predictable - a slowly descending chromatic scale forms the basis of the harmony, the tunes repeat the same notes over again and the singers rarely sing above a mezzo-piano dynamic. In addition, there is little or no rhythmic variety. As you might expect, this prompted a lively discussion. Some people were in agreement, some not and, most interesting of all (and one of the reasons why I posted the comment), I received various suggestions of songs to explore that might change my mind. Some of these confirmed my opinion and some of them challenged it.

However, it was a comment by one friend that Beethoven also used a great deal of harmonic repetition and another friend who chimed in saying that Janáček operas made him queasy because of the endlessly repeated phrases, that got me thinking.

There is an element of repetition that occurs naturally in all music. Most of Western classical music up to the Romantic period consists of elements including rhythm, harmony, cadences, melodies using scales, and classical structures such as sonata form. As Western classic music continued to develop, composers pushed at these boundaries, forging the way ahead to the next era of composition. Each time, the 'old tonality' would no longer be enough and composers stretched their creative muscles, making music gradually more chromatic and dissonant as well as melodically, harmonically and structurally complicated.

But there has always been a market for a style of music that remains uncomplicated and relatively easy to listen to.

I believe that we, as human beings, enjoy a fair amount of repetition in our lives – daily routines are adhered to by most of us - they make us feel safe, we are on known territory and, to a certain extent, we can be on 'autopilot' while our brains concentrate on problems yet to be resolved.

Repetition is one of the reasons why popular music is so popular – once you've got the hang of the tune and/or the chorus, it can be sung over and over. The music is generally easy to memorize, and is generally not overly complicated to assimilate, either emotionally or intellectually. It also gives people a certain bond when they all sing the song together.

Classical music uses repetitive elements alongside development – and this is one of the reasons why I find it so satisfying and sometimes challenging, emotionally as well as intellectually.

In thinking about what it is that I find so energizing about certain music, I came to realize that I like some kinds of repetition and not others. This got me wondering about the differences between repetitive elements and trying to analyse this into a more coherent conclusion. Here's what I came up with.

I like certain classical pieces because there are times when the composer leads us to expect something and he gives us exactly what we wish for. Then there are other moments, often later in a piece, when he surprises us and goes against our expectation. I enjoy the surprise and, once you are familiar with a certain composer's style but you don't know the piece, you can even begin to second guess whether he's going to surprise you or not. This creates a kind of tingly moment – will he, won't he?

I remember studying at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama and having a theory lesson (one of many) from Hans Keller. He was always thought-provoking, particularly as he often didn't give one any answers, but merely posed questions.

That particular week, his question was 'why do we enjoy the interrupted cadence so much at the end of the slow movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto No 23?' I am embarrassed to admit that I was not overly familiar with that concerto at the time, but perhaps this fact enabled me to answer his question more easily than if I had already known the piece well. A brief version of my answer was as follows: during the exposition section, there is a perfect cadence towards the end of the hauntingly melancholic and elongated theme; this point in the phrase returns during the recapitulation and, knowing what I knew of Mozart's sense of innovation and capacity for drama, there was a part of me during this first hearing that hoped and expected him to do something different the second time. Mozart composed the recapitulation exactly as I had hoped for, with an interrupted cadence and a moment of great poignancy. It would have been disappointing to me, had Mozart repeated the perfect cadence, as it would have felt as if there had been no development during the piece. And what was so satisfying was the mixture of the expected and the unexpected, the repetition followed by the development of this phrase, and the tingly moment of wondering what he would do next.

For me, the best music combines a balance of elements and ideas we are familiar with, either through repetition or use of tonality, and elements that are unexpected which can be exciting, sometimes challenging and usually highly satisfying.

Tasmin Little's new double-album of Schubert's chamber works with pianist Piers Lane on Chandos is out now. Buy from Presto Classical or Amazon