Musician Jokes

1st man: "My neighbors were screaming and yelling at three o'clock this morning!"
2nd man: "Did they wake you?"
1st man: "Nah....I was up playing my bagpipes."

Two Musicians* in a major symphonic orchestra were discussing who they thought the LEAST talented musician in the band was. One of them said; that*s easy. See that guy standing in the back? Well, we just put two sticks in his hands and we call him a Drummer. The other responded; well, if we take one stick away, we call him a Conductor!

How does a guitar player make a million dollars?
He starts out with eight million.

When Mozart passed away, he was buried in a churchyard. A couple
days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard some strange noises coming from the area where Mozart was buried. Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it. The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.
When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave,
listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Mozart's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."
He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, And it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."
So the magistrate kept listening; "There's the Seventh... the
Sixth...the Fifth..." Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned
on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the
cemetery. "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Mozart decomposing."

The trumpet player had been blasting away all day, when there was a knock on his door. *I live next door to you,* he explained. *Do you know I work nights?* *No,* said the trumpet player, *but if you hum a few bars, I*ll get the melody.*

How did the violin greet the guitar?

One day the bass player hid one of the drummer*s sticks.
The drummer said, *finally! After being a drummer for so long,
now I am a conductor!"

The choir had just come out of rehearsal. *Am I to assume that you do a lot of singing at home?* Mr. Harris asked a fellow choir member, David Grey. *Yes, I sing a lot. I use my voice just to kill time,* said David. Mr. Harris nodded, *You certainly have a fine weapon.*

This fellow was a very good harp player and wound up playing a gig in San Francisco, at a pub named Sam Fran's Disco. When his gig was up and he returned home, he found out he had forgotten his harp. When he told his wife he had to go right back, she wanted to know why. He said, "Because I left my harp in Sam Fran's Disco".

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