It's the kind of thing only played in those dimly lit dens full of flowersmoke and only by those who have developed new organs and appendages. They make instruments for their unusual physiology and they keep inhaling flowersmoke, mutating a little more, a little more until all the instruments become unworkable and they have to start all over again.
You've heard them on their vanderpipes and kneesplorns, occasionally belting out a miserable galormph. While you were down in the den, sick to death on flowersmoke but feeling divine, they played you to sleep and you dreamt gauzy flowerdreams.