Is there anyone here who's never played a musical instrument?

[WritingIsMyReligion]

Just curious.

:hi:

[likesmountains 52]

1. Does playing a flutaphone (?sp) count? My whole 3rd grade class did that...

but I never tried anything else..

[WritingIsMyReligion]

2. A WHAT?

:rofl:

D'you mean a recorder?

:rofl:

[Omphaloskepsis]

3. Hot Cross Buns...

Why am I thinking of this right now? My recorder years were a long time ago.

[likesmountains 52]

6. Exactly!

[likesmountains 52]

5. well, all I remember is it was a red and white plastic thing..and we called them

flutaphones..30 8 year olds trying to play (as the poster below says) Hot Cross Buns...our poor teacher must have gone mad!:crazy:

[frogcycle]

9. they tried to get me to play something like that in 3d grade

I think it was an ocarina - also called a sweet potato

you were supposed to blow in one hole and cover the others with your fingers

I never did figure out which was which

so I just pretended to be playing while everyone else actually made noise

the rhythm sticks remain my only actual attempt to "play" anything

[Maineiac]

4. Never have and now that I'm hemi-plegic, I never will.

[frogcycle]

7. in kindergarten I banged two sticks together in the rhythm band

does that count? I could never get in synch with the rest of the class, so I was the arrythmia band...

maybe because it was I was the only white kid

(edited to correct multiple typos)

[terrya]

8. I didn't.

Both of my sisters did, growing up. But I didn't. :-(

[azmouse]

10. I haven't

but I've always wanted to learn to play the piano. Maybe... someday.

[zingaro]

11. Me. I can't do it.

I heard many times that I "should" be able to play the piano. I mean, I can type 90+ WPM so I ought to be the next prodigy. However, I cannot play the piano, not even a little bit. I tried, many times.

It's the music notes that get me. They're like reading the credits on a Japanese film to my non-Japanese recognizing brain. I can't process them, can't comprehend them. I can't translate them from the little black dots on black lines with the occasional tempo signature or flat/sharp mark into the symphonic harmonic convergence that peels up from flat paper to vibrational joyous g-string theory osmosing through the eardrum to tickle the hammer/anvil/stirrup.

Not so much with the music for me. It's a lust, though, and I know it will remain unrequited.

*sigh*