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A tourist in Vienna goes through a graveyard and all of a sudden he hears some music. No one is around, so he starts searching for the source.
He finally locates the origin and finds it is coming from a grave with a headstone that reads: "Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827."
Then he realizes that the music is the Ninth Symphony, and it is being played backward! Puzzled, he leaves the graveyard and persuades a friend to return with him. By the time they arrive back at the grave, the music has changed. This time it is the Seventh Symphony, but like the previous piece, it is being played backward. Curious, the men agree to consult a music scholar.
When they return with the expert, the Fifth Symphony is playing, again backward. The expert notices that the symphonies are being played in the reverse order in which they were composed, the 9th, then the 7th, then the 5th.
By the next day the word has spread and a throng has gathered around the grave. They are all listening to the Second Symphony being played backward.
Just then the graveyard's caretaker ambles up to the group. Someone in the group asks him if he has an explanation for the music.
"Don't you get it?" the caretaker says incredulously. "He's decomposing."
 

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."

 

Years ago, the Seattle Symphony was doing Beethoven's Ninth under the baton of Milton Katims. At this point, you must understand two things:
1. There's a long segment in this symphony where the bass violins don't have a thing to do. Nothing. Not a single note for page after page;
2. There used to be a tavern called Dez's 400 right across the street from the Seattle Opera House, favored by local musicians.
It was decided that during this performance, after the bass players had played their parts they'd quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage rather than sit on their stools looking (and feeling) dumb for twenty minutes.
Well, once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and have a few brews. After they had downed the first couple rounds, one said, "Shouldn't we be getting back? It'd be awfully embarrassing if we were late."
Another, presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied, "Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string around the last pages of the conductor's score. When he gets down to there, Milton's going to have to slow the
tempo way down while he waves the baton with one hand and fumbles with the string with the other."
So they had another round and finally returned to the Opera House, a little tipsy by now.
However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor's face told them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious!
And why not? After all (get ready, here it comes...)
It was the bottom of the Ninth, the score was tied, and the basses were loaded.
 

A musical director was having a lot of trouble with one drummer. He talked and talked and talked with the drummer, but his performance simply didn't improve.
Finally, before the whole orchestra, he said, "When a musician just can't handle his instrument and doesn't improve when given help, they take away the instrument, and give him two sticks, and make him a drummer."
A stage whisper was heard from the percussion section: "And if he can't handle even that, they take away one of his sticks and make him a conductor."