There we were, sitting in a row. Our dresses were pressed, the ruffles on our socks shown delicately against our patent leather shoes. Our first musical concert, and all on recorders.
the lamest instrument ever, but we all have found grade school memories of that day in music class when we got to each try out the recorder. Then, we dreaded having to play it for a test.
Abigail blew tentatively into her recorder and a lovely C note leapt into the air and seemed to dance about her ears, before slowly fading and seeming to evaporate into the cieling. She smiled.
The recorder was the first instrument I ever learnt to play in primary school. I loved it. I used to practice on it every single day at home, at school. My friends and I even started some sort of recorder club back then. It was awesome. I miss it.
A recorder is like well you can have on one on your phone and you press a button to put it on and then you like speak into it and it record’s you and there is a volume chart that tells you how loud you are talking and if the chart is full it means you are shouting really loud and if the chart is empty you are making no sound at all or your whispering something and you can use it to spy on people so when somebody is in a different room as you you can open the door a bit and stick the recorder through and record what they said or if they were singing in the shower and you could shout thats bad singing or you could sing along to and it could be used in crimes or to solve a mystery and you could record people saying a secret if the dont tell you it or not let yoou in on the secret so your dieing to know because somebody who know’s the secret could black mail you and make you do anything and then they would tell you the secret.
A recorder is like well you can have on one on your phone and you press a button to put it on and then you like speak into it and it record’s you and there is a volume chart that tells you how loud you are talking and if the chart is full it means you are shouting really loud and if the chart is empty you are making no sound at all or your whispering something and you can use it to spy on people so when somebody is in a different room as you you can open the door a bit and stick the recorder through and record what they said or if they were singing in the shower and you could shout thats bad singing or you could sing along to and it could be used in crimes or to solve a mystery and you could record people saying a secret if the dont tell you it or not let yoou in on the secret so your dieing to know because somebody who know’s the secret could black mail you and make you do anything and then they would tell you the secret.
She held out her instrument, a gleaming smile on her face. “Do you want to try?” She asked him, impishly. Of all the things she could have chosen for him to try and play it was a recorder; the instrument of a child or an adult with fingers too large and clumsy for anything more delicate.
I used one of these for my voice lessons. I hated it. I didn’t want to record myself singing. I hated listening to myself over and over again. But my teacher insisted. She wanted me to get better so I had to listen to myself.
Even though I’ve had voice lessons for seven years and everyone compliments me on my voice, I still think I’m only average. I can hold a tune/note but I don’t have the confidence to go very far with it.
Why was he looking at me like that? What thoughts were going through his head while he scribbled away with that obscenely ornate pen?
I didn’t care for it; that is something I can say with certainty. Maybe he reminded me of Lenny. Maybe it reopened old wounds from my reporter days. Always wanted to be behind the pen and pad, and never in front, I suppose.
When I was in working for Probation and Parole, I sat in the stairwell and tried to learn the recorder. I was pregnant with Danny at the time. It was frustrating to me that I couldn’t get what Bob could play so easily. I wanted to be musical. I think I finally settled on just appreciating music.
As a student in elementary school, I learned how to play the recorder in a weekly music class. At the end of the year, all of the students in the school gave a concert playing the recorder.
stupid fifth grade music class, who the fuck cares. this is the most annoying and elementary instrument on the planet. oh well, at least i have a cool green one.
I love to play the recorder. I started when I was in the fourth grade and we played every week. It was a blast!
After the recorder, I moved to clarinet and then the low woodwinds. To this day, I still play the recorder on occasion. I wish I had kept playing the saxophone but the recorder is easier to carry. Guess that is why I like it so much.
The recorder isn’t even an instrument. It’s just like…a peice of plastic that they force you to platy in elementary schoolas an introduction to ACTUAL instruments. Maybe that’s why I suck at the saxaphoner…I never liked playing the recorder.
Recorders are incredible machines. They register sound. How is that possible if sound is simply a wave of vibrations emanating from one’s throat. Really, who could have invented that. I guess i’ll wikipedia that when i’m finished.
Reocording in music is something that shapes the industry as a whole, musicians go into studios and sing theirhearts out and then the magic begins. Sonds effects and voice adapters are added and a true magic comes about with the signing, music and effects to be the music we love so much today.
My father played the recorder. He always protested his complete inadequacy at this basic instrument, but whenever he played, I was entranced. No one else could compare to his playing.
the other day i was riding my bus and i looked out the window and then i saw a old man in a car waiting on a red light right next to our bus. and guess what this old man was doing? he was playing a recorder. he had all the windows open and everything.
The recorder tak-tak-takked away at his typemachino, strapped to his waist and forever fitting into the grooves of his hips. This was his journey, his mission, a documentor among warring, incumbent chaos. He knew not the agency he worked for, but they had chosen well.
The county recorder took the birth certificate and carefully filed it in the records, a place marker for a life that was so brief. A baby came and went in a blink of an eye. This record and the grief of it’s mother will be the only thing that lives on to show the world that this spirit was here at all.
The recorder is a primitive instrument given to talentless children at school so they have some way of participating in music classes. Noble, sure, until you realise that the child is going to ruin your peace and quiet practising the thing for the next 5 years.
In 1980 I got my first tape recorder. It was a birthday gift from my father. My friends and I used it to record our farts at my birthday party. Fred took it into the bathroom and recorded himself peeing. Bruce took a dump with it. We listened to that tape all night.
well, when I think of recorder I remember my voice, mainly my baritone voice trying to imitate Bob and sucking badly at it, and all the time not understanding why I hear something else as always…
recorder
fly
As I was standing in my assigned place of the rigid line, playing my recorder, I thought back to last night. So wild, so out of the lines…and
simple to follow
There we were, sitting in a row. Our dresses were pressed, the ruffles on our socks shown delicately against our patent leather shoes. Our first musical concert, and all on recorders.
The thing that makes you remember someone. In the Bad. The Good. And the Ugly. Yes i just quoted that.
the lamest instrument ever, but we all have found grade school memories of that day in music class when we got to each try out the recorder. Then, we dreaded having to play it for a test.
its the thing that holds the present for all to relive its been a tool of my for as long as i can remember it all started w
I switched off my recorder and wondered if i had accidentally switched off a Russian satellite. Wonder why they make these devices this complex?
Abigail blew tentatively into her recorder and a lovely C note leapt into the air and seemed to dance about her ears, before slowly fading and seeming to evaporate into the cieling. She smiled.
the instrument that squeaks when you’re in fourth grade and all the school can afford is a plastic lute.
the documenter, the person behind the camera, the voice reading over a machine, the beginning of deciding who gets what.
The recorder was the first instrument I ever learnt to play in primary school. I loved it. I used to practice on it every single day at home, at school. My friends and I even started some sort of recorder club back then. It was awesome. I miss it.
A recorder is like well you can have on one on your phone and you press a button to put it on and then you like speak into it and it record’s you and there is a volume chart that tells you how loud you are talking and if the chart is full it means you are shouting really loud and if the chart is empty you are making no sound at all or your whispering something and you can use it to spy on people so when somebody is in a different room as you you can open the door a bit and stick the recorder through and record what they said or if they were singing in the shower and you could shout thats bad singing or you could sing along to and it could be used in crimes or to solve a mystery and you could record people saying a secret if the dont tell you it or not let yoou in on the secret so your dieing to know because somebody who know’s the secret could black mail you and make you do anything and then they would tell you the secret.
A recorder is like well you can have on one on your phone and you press a button to put it on and then you like speak into it and it record’s you and there is a volume chart that tells you how loud you are talking and if the chart is full it means you are shouting really loud and if the chart is empty you are making no sound at all or your whispering something and you can use it to spy on people so when somebody is in a different room as you you can open the door a bit and stick the recorder through and record what they said or if they were singing in the shower and you could shout thats bad singing or you could sing along to and it could be used in crimes or to solve a mystery and you could record people saying a secret if the dont tell you it or not let yoou in on the secret so your dieing to know because somebody who know’s the secret could black mail you and make you do anything and then they would tell you the secret.
She held out her instrument, a gleaming smile on her face. “Do you want to try?” She asked him, impishly. Of all the things she could have chosen for him to try and play it was a recorder; the instrument of a child or an adult with fingers too large and clumsy for anything more delicate.
I used one of these for my voice lessons. I hated it. I didn’t want to record myself singing. I hated listening to myself over and over again. But my teacher insisted. She wanted me to get better so I had to listen to myself.
Even though I’ve had voice lessons for seven years and everyone compliments me on my voice, I still think I’m only average. I can hold a tune/note but I don’t have the confidence to go very far with it.
Why was he looking at me like that? What thoughts were going through his head while he scribbled away with that obscenely ornate pen?
I didn’t care for it; that is something I can say with certainty. Maybe he reminded me of Lenny. Maybe it reopened old wounds from my reporter days. Always wanted to be behind the pen and pad, and never in front, I suppose.
When I was in working for Probation and Parole, I sat in the stairwell and tried to learn the recorder. I was pregnant with Danny at the time. It was frustrating to me that I couldn’t get what Bob could play so easily. I wanted to be musical. I think I finally settled on just appreciating music.
As a student in elementary school, I learned how to play the recorder in a weekly music class. At the end of the year, all of the students in the school gave a concert playing the recorder.
recorder of life. Recorder of happiness. Recorder of love. Recorder of depression. You are the recorder of me. Of my life, and my love.
stupid fifth grade music class, who the fuck cares. this is the most annoying and elementary instrument on the planet. oh well, at least i have a cool green one.
I love to play the recorder. I started when I was in the fourth grade and we played every week. It was a blast!
After the recorder, I moved to clarinet and then the low woodwinds. To this day, I still play the recorder on occasion. I wish I had kept playing the saxophone but the recorder is easier to carry. Guess that is why I like it so much.
Recorder is a good thing to make your voice sound to anyone you like. It helps anyone to listento you.
The recorder isn’t even an instrument. It’s just like…a peice of plastic that they force you to platy in elementary schoolas an introduction to ACTUAL instruments. Maybe that’s why I suck at the saxaphoner…I never liked playing the recorder.
He sat beside her, a recorder in his hands. He wasn’t ready to play just yet–her eyes were trained on the ground, not at him.
“Pay attention?”
“No, not yet.”
“Please, Jules?”
She slowly moved her eyes up to his face and stared.
“Okay, play for me.”
And he put the mouthpiece to his lips and began to play.
umm i think this is dumb
Recorders are incredible machines. They register sound. How is that possible if sound is simply a wave of vibrations emanating from one’s throat. Really, who could have invented that. I guess i’ll wikipedia that when i’m finished.
Reocording in music is something that shapes the industry as a whole, musicians go into studios and sing theirhearts out and then the magic begins. Sonds effects and voice adapters are added and a true magic comes about with the signing, music and effects to be the music we love so much today.
My father played the recorder. He always protested his complete inadequacy at this basic instrument, but whenever he played, I was entranced. No one else could compare to his playing.
with this tool you can record your words and much more things All the things you can imagine. Do you old like your tape recorder?
the other day i was riding my bus and i looked out the window and then i saw a old man in a car waiting on a red light right next to our bus. and guess what this old man was doing? he was playing a recorder. he had all the windows open and everything.
The recorder tak-tak-takked away at his typemachino, strapped to his waist and forever fitting into the grooves of his hips. This was his journey, his mission, a documentor among warring, incumbent chaos. He knew not the agency he worked for, but they had chosen well.
The county recorder took the birth certificate and carefully filed it in the records, a place marker for a life that was so brief. A baby came and went in a blink of an eye. This record and the grief of it’s mother will be the only thing that lives on to show the world that this spirit was here at all.
The recorder is a primitive instrument given to talentless children at school so they have some way of participating in music classes. Noble, sure, until you realise that the child is going to ruin your peace and quiet practising the thing for the next 5 years.
a recorder is an excuse for an instrument
hot cross buns, interesting devince that can be used to replicate sound that has potential to spread stories, music, and sound.
play sing forget songs fun like wonderful sillyhard great notes music practice
Normalerweise schauen wir immer GZSZ gemeinsam. Nicht wirklich gehaltvoll, aber es ist sch
In 1980 I got my first tape recorder. It was a birthday gift from my father. My friends and I used it to record our farts at my birthday party. Fred took it into the bathroom and recorded himself peeing. Bruce took a dump with it. We listened to that tape all night.
well, when I think of recorder I remember my voice, mainly my baritone voice trying to imitate Bob and sucking badly at it, and all the time not understanding why I hear something else as always…