‘Did you ever happen to visit the cinematograph in your travels?’

‘Never,’ I answered humbly, ‘but I believe it is a dark quarter and little can be seen at all except the photographs on the wall.’  — Flann O’Brien

Over the years, I’ve developed a distinct aversion to movies.  I’m aware that this is not a popular aversion.  In fact, I’ve met fellow citizens who grow angry when I express it.  But the Ullage Group is chartered to air the unpopular, so I think it fitting here.  And besides, I’m sure there are others out there who also shun the flickering tedium; perhaps my example will encourage them to speak out without shame.  It is to you that I address myself, my comrades.

To begin with, I particularly dislike having to sit through a film in a theater.  Cramped seats, unpleasantly evocative of air travel, or of a long bus trip, jam me against strangers.  Many of them eat popcorn, filling the air with the stink of rancid grease, which is not my favorite perfume.  Bright lights in a darkened room hurt my eyes; over-amplified sound hurts my ears.  I prefer a clean, airy, well-lit space.  Our fellow citizens, comrades, find this inexplicable; they will never understand, and there is no sense in trying to explain.

A DVD at home is less offensive.  That way, at least, you can let it run while you catch up on your housework.

We will have more to say about the actual information encoded in that flickering beam.  For now, let me say that I don’t find the commercial product enticing.  Watching actors recite ham-fisted dialogue in the service of one of the shopworn plots judged marketable seems a poor use of my time.  The people who manufacture this stuff know all too well that their formulas have lost their savor; and try to spice them up with manipulative soundtracks and hyperactive editing.  I find the result just as tedious, but more irritating.  A bore is no more engaging when he bellows; spoiled food no more palatable when drenched in salt, corn syrup, and monosodium glutamate.  If a movie were live, it might have more life; but, of course, it’s not.  It is not only stale, but canned.

That’s enough for now.  Take courage, all of my comrades who have also outgrown this foolishness; we have taken a step together, out of that joyless and stifling room.  We will meet again, here under the age-old spectacle of the starry skies.  We will meet again.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)      

Another Old Maid has entered my life.  This deck was published by Playtime House; in addition to the artist (and I can’t help but suspect that we may have a self-portrait here), we meet such characters as Tommy Tuff, Hedy Hula, Billy Bum, Ubangi Bess, and Shirley Strut — all with clean lines and oversized heads like Ann. 

And here’s the Old Maid:

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

[As a postscript to “Pandora’s Music Box,” let me add this lovely imaginary instrument from Boris Vian.  It appears in his novel L’écume des jours (The Scum of the Days).  A number of artists have built plausible models of the Pianocktail; documentation can be found, here and there, on YouTube.  But let me translate the description for you, as Colin explains his invention to his friend Chick:]

— Each note, said Colin, corresponds to an alcohol, a liqueur, or an aromatic.  The loud pedal corresponds to egg whites, and the soft pedal to ice.  Seltzer requires a trill in the upper register.  Quantities are directly proportional to durations: a 64th note equals a 16th part, a quarter note one part, a whole note four parts.  When you play a slow tune, a valve is activated so that you don’t increase the amount, which would produce an overly copious cocktail, but the percentage of alcohol.  And depending on the duration of the song, you can, if you like, change the value of the part with a lateral stop; reducing it, for example, to a hundredth, so that you can produce a drink that takes all of the harmonies into account.

— It’s complicated, said Chick.

— The whole thing is controlled by electrical contacts and relays; I’ll spare you the details, you know all that.  And what’s more, the piano really works.

— Marvelous! said Chick.

— The only problem, said Colin, is the loud pedal for egg whites.  I had to put in a special gear, because if the piece is too hot, bits of omelet fall into your cocktail, and they’re hard to swallow.  I’ll fix that.  For now, you just have to be careful.  For cream, play a low G.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

The Ullage Group’s sixth public outing attracted our largest turnout yet.  We ran out of chairs and pews; some had to stand, fidgeting.

After an introductory sermonette, Lisa uncorked the ullage, and poured out the traditional offering to our hosts at the Jalopy Theater, Geoff and Lynette Wiley.  She then discussed the cultural history of toy instruments, musical toys, and novelty instruments.  She demonstrated the Rolmonica, choral top, musical typewriter, anti-gravity whistle, and a variety of other odd devices; Doug assisted on the toy koto, mini-oud, one-string fiddle, and bazooka.  Geoff played a bit on a home-made Stroh violin.  Lisa and Doug concluded with a coarse ditty, “Prince Albert,” scored for Flutophone and toy banjo-uke.

Doug followed with a cursory history of fretless zithers and gizmo harps, with brief examples on the Tremoloa, Harmonette, Regent Zither, and Violin-Uke.  The audience gasped at the unveiling of that Marxochime masterwork, the Marxolin (the blue kind).

After intermission, Geoff built a washtub bass onstage, from scratch to completion, with his usual prowess.

Anthony profiled electronic music pioneer Bruce Haack, played some of his recordings, and showed a clip of Haack demonstrating the Dermatron, an instrument akin to the Theremin, but played on a human face.  He then offered an object lesson in “circuit blasting,” by destroying an electronic keyboard with a vintage violet ray generator.

All of the participants joined in on the finale, a rousing rendition of that old favorite, “Frankie and Johnny,” played on whatever we could fit in.

Pandora’s Music Box has been emptied!  Only Hope remains, crouched in the corner, stopping its ears.

    Photos: Bob Schaffer

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

In “Wings: The Air Mail Game,” a 1928 game from Parker Brothers, you deliver mail across the country, from Boston to San Francisco.  This offers the opportunity for some deft pen sketches of aerial views.  Nicely done, I think.

(Posted by Doug Skinner) 

For your listening pleasure, the Ullage Group returns this coming Sunday, January 24th with a cacophonous and fun-filled afternoon of unusual, under-appreciated, forgotten, and one-of-a-kind musical instruments. Part show-and-tell, part performance, all noise! Your ears will never be the same again.

Doug Skinner will discuss and demonstrate some of the patent instruments and “gizmo harps” manufactured in the late 19th and early 20th century: the Regent Zither, Tremoloa, Marxolin, Celestaphone, Violin Uke, and whatever else makes it into the final, rigorous, editing process.

Lisa Hirschfield will ponder the history, uses, and never-ending appeal of novelty and toy instruments, and will delight you with some toy tunes.

Anthony Matt will dazzle you with a discussion of electronic instruments, their creation, and their destruction. He will also discuss the pioneering electronic sound work of Bruce Haack, who created several unique instruments including the Dermatron, and will bend your ears with the synthesizer-slaying sound known as Circuit Blasting. Special guest appearances TBA.

Sunday, January 24th, 4:00PM at the Fabulous Jalopy Theatre, located at 315 Columbia Street in Brooklyn

Map:http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&gl=us&ved=0CBYQpQY&ei=lWFPS8iYMI6YyATGmbGpDQ&ie=UTF8&view=map&q=COLUMBIA+ST+at+WOODHULL+ST&geocode=FWfBbAIdosiW-w&split=0&iwloc=A&sa=X

$5 admission: For this sweet ear candy? Such a bargain!

“My First Card Game” was published in 1983 by Discovery Toys; the original publisher seems to be the German firm of Altenburg-Stralsunder.  It’s certainly bold, as designs go.  And I’ve seen worse monkeys.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

I’m puzzled by the word “spiritual.”  I understand it as a noun, meaning a genre of vocal music.  But as an adjective, it has me stumped.

When I meet someone who spatters his or her sentences with it, I sometimes ask what it means.  She or he usually refuses, often with projectile hostility.  One woman retorted that since I read Darwin, I was incapable of nuanced thought.  This was a clue: perhaps it meant boorishness, or an aversion to defining terms.  I met similar responses from pseudo-skeptics, those odd folk who beat the drum so loudly for a “scientific investigation of the paranormal,” when I asked what they meant by “scientific” and “paranormal.”  “I’m not going to play that game,” was a typical reply.  This led me, then, to infer that “spiritual” referred to the same reductive anti-intellectualism so prized by pseudo-skeptics.  (Parenthetically, let me clarify that “beat the drum” is figurative; otherwise someone is bound to take it literally, and protest that he or she doesn’t even own a drum.  This may seem over-cautious, but it’s not.)

My dictionary here (a humble Webster’s Collegiate) defines “spiritual” as “of or relating to sacred matters.”  This is no help.  Sacred matters include fasting, feasting, asceticism, Christmas shopping, massacres, soup kitchens, the civil rights movement, the Ku Klux Klan, liberation theology, ethnic cleansing, self-immolation, heretic-lynching, scholarship, book-burning, celibacy, orgies, monogamy, polygamy, and, apparently, everything else humans do.  The definition is so elastic as to be linguistically useless.

But there is, fortunately, another clue: the etymology.  The word “spiritual” evelved from the Latin “spiritus,” meaning wind.  This makes sense.  Pythagoras forbade beans because they contain the spirits of the dead, who then seek release from our digestive tracts.  Then, too, the “joyful noise” of Psalm 100 becomes specific; “out-of-body experience” comprehensible; “inspiration” and “afflatus” no longer vague abstractions.  And “fundamentalist spirituality” is, no doubt, wind from the fundament.  “Flatulent” is as good a definition of “spiritual” as any; and flatulence, obviously, can accompany any of the above sacred matters.  And, like drum-beating, it can be taken figuratively as well. 

We here in the Ullage Group wish you a spiritual 2010.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)  

“Beat Your Neighbours,” from the English firm, Tower Press, offered pictures of motorists in this cozy style.  Curiously, the game itself had nothing to do with the artwork: you simply accumulated or discarded cards according to the instructions on “Put” cards. 

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

First, we apologize for the hiatus.  Hiatus happens.

Our next event, devoted to marginal and obsolete musical instruments, is scheduled for January 24th.  Details will follow.

As you may have noticed, holidays have reared their troublesome heads.  You can soothe the angst with Skinner holiday songs here and here.

We remind you that our tribute to John Keel can be perused at www.johnkeel.com.  That bibliography has spread, fungus-like, since you last looked.

And we wish you ullage aplenty in 2010!

(Posted by Doug Skinner)