Suppose yourself to have a small child. You wish to provide them with the most irritating, howling, headache-inducing pest of a thing for them to practice day and night. Your choices at one point were the old standards of violin versus descant recorder. Violin for that atonal scratching and scraping with ear splitting squeals – recorder for a penny-whistling cough mixture of shrieks.
But now you have a choice that combines all of this and more into one adorable package – the Otamatone. It looks like a musical note! It looks like PacMan! It’s Japanese! Everything Japanese is kawaii! And it sounds like a whiny smoker with a speech impediment.
Tap you finger on the stem, attempting to get near to a note. Fail repeatedly. Now squeeze the sides of the face to open and close the mouth. That cheap electrical whine takes on the acoustics of a dry retch. Kawaii!
I have owned mine for many years now. It hangs on the wall inviting people to pick it up and attempt music. The shame of what they produce is a priceless asset. I play them a video of people who are expert in this thing. We shake our heads and wonder what mankind has wrought.