We've been hanging out this evening, grilling, dancing (maybe), doing puzzles, and whatever, and listening to a great deal of music. Much of it was musical theater because, well, if you know us you get it. This was about as celebratory as we get without leaving the house or partying with other humans.
Here's the thing... I vaguely understand the mechanics and structure of how a guitar or a piano works. I'm obsessed with the sounds you can make with an 808. Multi-lingual harmony blows my mind. African a cappella musical songs are great. British rock operas turn me up. Blue weirdos banging on PVC pipes are a favorite. And with DJ experience, my rock music history knowledge isn't terrible.
But I couldn't carry a tune if it had a handle. I can't sing, and I can't play any instrument, unless you count being able to play taps on a trumpet (hint: it requires no valve movement). I can play music on the radio, and that's about as close as I get to musician.
It's a really odd situation, to be obsessed with music but not able to make any. Every time I get an email about a Steinway sale, I feel like we need a piano. Or I need to get an 808 software emulator. Or even a fucking ukulele, now that there's a Masterclass. The mental block to any of this is obvious enough, that you don't learn any of this overnight.
Diana has formal training, and in addition to that, she's a savant. They had PVC pipes at the science museum in Cleveland, with music playing in the background, and she listened for a moment, then started playing along. She picked up Simon's recorder and just starts playing shit. It's outright disturbing. But I feel like between the two of us, we could play stuff if I nutted up and tried to learn anything at all.