John Forster summed it up in his song "Tone Deaf".

His Mama sang soprano at the Met.
His Dad was in the Juilliard Quartet.
His brother played as well as Horowitz.
His sister'd had a string of country hits.
But he was tone deaf.
He couldn't find his pitch.
Tone deaf
By some genetic glitch.
He couldn't tell an E-flat from an F,
The bass from treble clef.
He was stone tone deaf.

They tested him for blockage
Or a broken chromosome.
He finally got the message
And ran away from home.
He wandered sad and lonely,
Till one night in Srinigar
He met an fascinating lady
Sitting in a bar.

Her mother was a prima ballerina.
She had three sisters, each a brilliant "trina."
Her Dad was a hoofer extraordinaire.
In fact, her godfather was Fred Astaire.

But she had no sense of rhythm.
She couldn't feel the beat.
She had no sense of rhythm
And two left feet.
Her family danced, but when she joined in with 'em
Oo, the criticithm
Cause she had absolutely no sense of rhythm.

From the start these tortured souls
Were tunelessly in tune.
They danced together clumsily,
Reciting Rod McKuen.
And when they wed, their pain
Turned into never-ending sun.
They had a bunch of children
And every single one--

Was tone deaf
And rhythmless combined
And also goofy looking
And also colorblind.
The story has a moral
That is very hard to knock.
Two black sheep
Is all it takes to start a flock.