Riddles About Music

I have keys but open no doors, strings yet no bows, pedals but no wheels. What am I?

I’m a silent conductor waving in air, guiding singers without a sound. What am I?

I’m a percussionist who never moves, yet keeps beat for the entire band. What am I?

I’m a metal spiral that makes a boing when you pluck me during sound checks. What am I?

I’m the part of the song that everyone hums on the way home. What am I?

I’m ink on five lines that turns silence into melodies. What am I?

I’m the traveling case that keeps violins safe from bumps and weather. What am I?

I’m the singer’s daily tea of honey and lemon, soothing tired chords. What am I?

I’m the sound check call that echoes across stages: all musicians dread me but need me. What am I?

I’m the green room snack that disappears before curtain call. What am I?

I’m the playlist that bandmates blast during the van ride between gigs. What am I?

I’m the staff leader who tunes the orchestra before the maestro walks out. Who am I?

I’m the practice room neighbor who keeps the same scale on loop. What am I?

I’m the lyric sheet scribbled in margins late at night, waiting for the studio. What am I?

I’m the encore chant that brings musicians back for one more number. What am I?