The Tech in My Life #7: Stencil and Spirit Duplicators

Before Microsoft Word, Adobe Photoshop and print-on-demand services, “desktop publishing” meant stencil machines and spirit duplicators. Mostly known by their brand names such as Roneo (mimeograph or stencil duplicator) and Banda (ditto machine or spirit duplicator), these printing presses were small enough to be operated on an actual desktop. They were perfect for self-publishing small print runs of home-made magazines and newsletters.

At school, teachers used them to make handouts and quizzes. In years 11 and 12, my friends and I produced several issues of an alternative school magazine using a Gestetner stencil duplicator. Fiddly work, but highly satisfying when everything went right.

Most people will probably remember them for the heady smell of the chemicals they used. Thanks to health and safety concerns (as well as cheaper photocopying and better flatbed scanners), these machines are no longer anywhere to be seen.

The core technology lives on in the form of Risographs, a 1980’s invention that has seen renewed interest in recent years among zines and comics – mainly because the economics can work out better than photocopying, inkjet printing, laser printing or traditional offset printing, and because the process uses more organic soy-based inks.

Next week #8: Overhead Projectors

 

The Tech in My Life #1 – Telstar!

This week’s blog is the first in a series on key technology that has helped to shape my life. It will be a very personal perspective, and obviously it can’t capture every tech development, interface or environment that I have engaged with. But as I hope to establish, my selections do reveal three recurring themes: information, communication, and music. These threads should become apparent in the coming weeks.

First up is a record, “Telstar”, released by The Tornados in 1962.

I have blogged about this record before, mainly from a musical perspective. But as a tech artefact it also provides other context.

It is probably the first 7″ vinyl record that I can recall hearing – and certainly one of the only pieces of music from my early childhood that remains both familiar and intriguing to this day. Maybe it was also the first record I got to play on the family Dansette myself, so there is a reinforced tactile connection with the record as a “data object” and the gramophone player as a “playback device”. And while the tune itself is relatively simple, the arrangement and recording techniques reveal a lot more depth than a normal pop record. For a start, the choice of electronic keyboards, and the treatment of the electric guitar give it a suitably unworldly atmosphere.

More specifically, and without my realising it at the time, it is probably my earliest experience of musique concrète. I distinctly remember putting my ear as close to the speaker as possible to absorb the opening passage of Joe Meek’s sound effects, tape manipulation and general studio wizardry. What were these strange noises? Why did they fascinate me? Was it really music, or was I hearing something else entirely, like signals from outer space?

Which is exactly the point, as “Telstar” is named after the communications satellite of the same name. Leaving aside Joe Meek’s fascination/obsession with spiritualism and the occult, he was something of an autodidact in the studio – if he needed a particular effect (“what would a satellite signal sound like?”), he would create or improvise from whatever technology was to hand (primitive or otherwise).

In coming weeks, the significance of “Telstar” (the satellite) on my childhood will emerge. But if I was ever invited to appear on “Desert Island Discs”, I’m certain that “Telstar” would be included in my playlist of 8 records.

Next week #2: Goonhilly

 

 

Reverb-erations

“This is a journey into sound” reads the sub-title of ACMI’s Melbourne edition of “Reverb”, the London exhibition organised by Vinyl Factory and hosted by 180 Studios in 2024-25.

Spoiler alert: the ACMI show is a heavily edited/remixed/redacted version of the original, and because it was grafted on to the concurrent Rising festival, it feels like the original’s agenda has been co-opted due to curatorial choices.

Overall, I found ACMI’s Reverb a quite underwhelming experience – with the disappointment being compounded by high expectations. For a start, Vinyl Factory described their show as a celebration of “art and sound with [an] immersive exhibition”. 180 Studios called it an exploration of “the lasting impact and influence of electronic music on contemporary art and culture”. Both of which are big calls, and quite different in terms of scope and intent, despite describing the same exhibition.

ACMI’s re-adapted synopsis boasts that the exhibition “explores music’s influence on art, film and social movements, traversing hip hop and rap, house, techno, dancehall and Jamaican sound system culture”. Quite a different purpose to the original event.

For logistical reasons, I understand that ACMI could not simply replicate the London show, and many items were omitted. But given ACMI’s success in bringing “David Bowie is” to Melbourne, their world premiere of Julian Rosefeldt’s “Manifesto”, and the “Light” show comprising works from the UK’s Tate Gallery, it’s a shame that “Reverb” didn’t deliver to the same level.

First, there was only one interactive work, by Carsten Nicolai (aka Alva Noto) – so hardly an “immersive” experience, unless you include the ACMI Listening Room, which served more as a passive audio space and vinyl lounge (albeit a very nice one!).

Second, the only two works that really engaged with and explored the interaction between electronic music and popular culture were: a semi-educational documentary by Jeremy Deller on the second summer of love and the UK rave culture; and an informative and creative account of the Detroit techno scene by Jenn Nkiru.

Third, as much as I enjoy the work of William Kentridge, his video installation of animated drawings seemed out of place and out of context – although it appears this same work was included in the original London show.

Not having had the opportunity to see the original version, direct comparisons are difficult. But it felt like there were huge gaps. For example, nothing about the role of music videos on MTV (much of it electronic music) in shaping the visual packaging of pop artists and how these videos themselves brought a cross-fertilisation of different sub-cultures, fashion styles and musical genres into mainstream publishing, advertising and the broader entertainment industry. Nothing about the technology that helped electronic music to propagate and which led to scratching, remixing and sampling, and also shaped how, where and when we listen to music. I could go on but hopefully the point is made.

Maybe the point is that the original exhibition was simply the source material for galleries and museums to each put their own spin on the impact of music on art and culture, like a series of reverberating events around the world.

But at the very least, surely there should have been a video of Coldcut’s classic remix of “Paid In Full” by Eric B and Rakim? Now that’s what I call a “journey into sound!”

Next week: End of the road for Lime?

 

Cultural References

Most days I like to try and solve a cryptic crossword. It’s a hobby I picked up from my dad, when I was in my early teens. He probably regretted introducing me to this particular pastime, as we used to compete for the newspaper…

I think I have persisted with this hobby because I have an innate interest in word-play, and solving puzzles helps to maintain my cognitive agility.

Apart from having a large vocabulary and an understanding of the rudiments of solving different types of cryptic clues, it also helps to have wide general knowledge. In my own case, this is underpinned by having received a “classic education” – that blend of critical thinking, an inquisitive approach to learning, and a mix of the liberal arts, formal science and a hint of classics.

Cryptic clues frequently involve specific and oblique references to weights and measures, chess, bridge, languages, history, geography, the arts, literature, politics, current affairs, religion, sport, law, technology, entertainment and the sciences. Puzzle setters also rely on lexical techniques such as abbreviations, palindromes, homophones, anagrams, synonyms, antonyms and phonetics to construct their clues.

Many times, I find I just “know” the answer because some word association triggers mental recall. Often, though, clues are solved by a process of deduction and logic to parse the cryptic component to align with the factual meaning or definition.

I am increasingly challenged by references to current popular culture. Sometimes, I can deduct the reference to the name of a chart-topping singer or title of a Hollywood movie franchise – and not from hearing the music or watching the film.

It does make me think about what defines “general knowledge” – the stuff you should know without having to use a search engine? The public canon obviously shifts and evolves over time, but increasingly our individual knowledge is becoming fragmented, siloed and insular – not helped by algorithms designed to serve up more of the same or push us deeper into very narrow bands of information. Obviously, tastes and currency change with the times, but what constitutes a core foundation of personal wisdom and understanding to help us navigate the world?

This thought struck me recently during a family games night. One of the teenage participants was given a particularly difficult film title in a round of charades: “Dog Day Afternoon”. I was certain our young contestant had never seen (let alone heard of) this controversial 1975 movie (but which even now, seems highly topical). Yet, our plucky player rose to the challenge, and acted out a very literal interpretation, which made it relatively easy for the rest of the team to solve. It was great to see the process of deduction based on limited information!

So, maybe as long as we keep teaching basic general knowledge plus strong problem-solving skills, we’ll be OK?