Where there is creativity in abundance it can easily topple over into anarchy. Some such people are simply incapable of repeating themselves.
Gould is an example I think. I listened to his Chopin sonata a few days ago. This is an anarchic interpretation.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.