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Miscellaneous Musician Jokes

C, an E-flat, and G go into a bar. The bartender says: "Sorry, but we don't serve minors." So, the E-flat leaves, and the C and the G have an open fifth between them. After a few drinks, the fifth is diminished: the G is out flat.

An F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough. A D comes into the bar and heads straight for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me, I'll just be a second."

An A comes into the bar, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor. Then the bartender notices a B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and exclaims: "Get out now! You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight." The E-flat, not easily deflated, comes back to the bar the next night in a 3-piece suit with nicely shined shoes.

The bartender (who used to have a nice corporate job until his company downsized) says: "You're looking sharp tonight, come on in! This could be a major development." This proves to be the case, as the E-flat takes off the suit and stands there au natural. Eventually, the C sobers up and realizes in horror that he's under a rest. The C is brought to trial, is found guilty of contributing to the diminution of a minor, and is sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an upscale correctional facility.

On appeal, however, the C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless. The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom, and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest and closes the bar.
 
Three men die and go to heaven and queue to meet St. Peter. St. Peter: Hi, what’s your name? Paul: My name is Paul. St. Peter: Hi, Paul. Tell me, when you died, how much were you earning? Paul: 120K. St. Peter: Wow! Tell me, Paul, what were you doing to earn that kind of money? Paul: I was a lawyer. St. Peter: That’s great. Come on in. St. Peter then turned to the second man. Hi, what’s your name? Roger: My name is Roger. St. Peter: Hi, Roger. Tell me, when you died, how much were you earning? Roger: 60K. St. Peter: Hey, That’s great! Tell me, Roger:, what did you do for a living? Roger: I was an accountant. St. Peter: That’s very good. Come on in. St. Peter then turned to the second man. Hi, what’s your name? John: My name is John. St. Peter: Hi, John. Tell me, John, how much were you earning when you died? John: About $23, 000. St. Peter: Hey, That’s fantastic, John! Tell me, what instrument did you play?
 
Not so much a joke but an amusing story. I've been reading Dicky Wells' (yes, I know a trombonist....) autobiography "The Night People", which incidentally was sourced for me through the excellent inter library lending service which can get anything our of print for a small fee from somewhere in UK.

A band leader ("'fess" = professor) turns up to take over a rehearsal from the straw boss. Dicky Wells paraphrases typical banter, which I reproduce from memory, but it's something like
"How's it sound 'fess?"
"I don't know what you've been playing - checkers or craps perhaps - but it sure ain't music. Lead trumpet, you're sharp".
" Gee, thanks, 'fess, that's what my chick says".
"No, fool, your instrument, pull out".
 
How can you tell which are the second violinists in an orchestra?
They've all got rusty E strings.

Three string players went into the woods to collect snails. The violinist came out in 10 minutes with a bucket of snails. Close behind was the cellist, also with a full bucket. 30 minutes later the viola player came out empty handed. "Didn't you see any?", the others asked. Came the reply. "One, but it was too quick for me"
 
Oops. My post got deleted. The joke was family fiendly.

How about this one...
"Why is it that some guitarist not trim their strings after restringing?"

"Because they use it for flossing..."

Okay, that was bad...I tried.

How about this...

An alto and a baritone saxophone were fighting when the alto yelled, "sticks and stones may break my tone but you are bari-hurting me".

*crickets*

I give up.
 
How do you know when the drum riser is level?
The drummer drools out of both sides of his mouth.

What's the definition of a good shot?
Getting a banjo into the dumpster without touching the sides.
 

Similar threads... or are they? Maybe not but they could be worth reading anyway 😀

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