Retro Thing

A $16,750 CD Player!?

Nagra has a long history producing tape recorders for professional film and video recording. Perhaps that explains their deranged quest to produce the most overengineered CD player on earth.

The Swiss company borrowed the high-end industrial aesthetic of their classic tape machines for this top of the line $16,750 CDC CD player. The front panel features a gloriously unnecessary level meter and a smattering of gob-smackingly expensive knobs and toggle switches.

So what else do you get for almost seventeen grand? Well, the CD module is built into the front-loading CD tray rather than being bolted inside the machine. The engineering gnomes claim that sliding the CD mechanism in and out in conjunction with the disc will improve our listening pleasure, by providing the "ideal mechanized environment for the CD module."

The drawer itself is powered by a planetary reduction motor developed by a NASA supplier whose products graced an unnamed Mars Rover. Hopefully it's one of the cute ones that didn't smack into the harsh and uninviting surface of the red planet at 6,000 mph. The disc is held in place by a magnetic clamp. Nagra ensures us, "The prescribed weight of this component has been rigorously adhered to; an over-heavy roller would deteriorate the playback and wear the transport motor out prematurely."

It goes without saying that the power supply is housed in an external case, lest the presence of high voltage alternating current pollute the audio signal path. This could wreak havoc with the astoundingly articulate highs, the confident yet affectionate mid-range and the leviathan bass.

As icing on the cake, the printed circuit board holding the Burr-Brown digital-to-analog converters is radiation shielded by a gold-plated cover, presumably to keep the music playing in the event of a nuclear holocaust [or to ward off mundane RF interference]. Far be it from me to point out that 50 cents of properly engineered tin sheeting would suffice, although it would ruin the joy repair technicians must feel when popping off and swiping it.

To round out the feature set, the CDC includes a pair of analog outputs coated with pigment harvested from endangered butterflies [uh, ok, it's actually gold], AES, S/PDIF and Toslink digital outputs, along with spiffy 24-bit digital-to-analog converters with 8x oversampling. The 4 kg beast includes a solid-state preamp so you can plug it straight into a power amplifier. Of course, you also get a dashingly sleek headphone jack with adjustable volume control, just in case you can't afford any other components after selling your Honda Civic to finance this little extravagance.

Link: Nagra CDC compact disc player

related:
Modern Nagra 4.2 and IV-S Reel-to-Reel Portable Tape Recorders
Essential gear for the hi-fi spy

1982: CBC-TV Explores the Video Game Boom

Twenty-six years ago, CBC-TV's The Fifth Estate ran a revealing segment on the booming arcade industry. They argued that the multi-billion dollar success of games like Pac-Man, Space Invaders and Donkey Kong was due to escapism and the illusion of power granted by video games. This clip offers a peek at the industry at the height of the arcade era -- including an interview with Eugene Jarvis, the coder behind Defender, Stargate and Robotron: 2084.

The few billion dollars earned in the early 1980s pales in comparison to the modern gaming industry, which saw astounding US sales of $17.9 billion in 2007. One big difference is that modern gaming has firmly shifted away from grungy smoke-filled arcades and into the home.

Making millions, 25 cents at a time [CBC Archives]

Instant Photography Lives On!

Christian Polt from Lomography.com just bleemed us some intriguing news, "Polaroid die-hards can finally throw off their black suits, come out of mourning and rejoice! While it may be true that Polaroid is getting out of the instant photography game, Fuji has taken the baton. Fuji Instax cameras are a new generation of instant camera. Using Polaroid know-how as a base Fuji has made big leaps in instant photo technology - meaning faster development, more mod-cons, great colour reproduction and cheaper instant film. Lomography is pleased to present the most exciting new instant photo cameras and legendary Polaroid deadstock, plus all the instant film you could need!"

In all honesty, Fuji Instax cameras are truly hideous -- the unfortunate offspring of a forbidden liaison between a decrepit pastel-tinged iMac and an abandoned Fisher Price teething toy. If you buy one, I strongly suggest hiding it in depths of your messenger bag to avoid ritual shunning by your former friend(s) and significant other(s). Whisk it out for a quick snap when no one's looking or when they're too drunk to toss out coherent cheap shots.

Link: Lomography Instant Photography

Music From A Stapler

Staplers are not usually renowned for their musical capabilities. That didn't stop composer and sound designer Diego Stocco from taking his for a short musical interlude, however. We've covered some of his previous sound design adventures in the past, including the infamous Burning Piano incident.

This time, Diego was armed with nothing more sophisticated than his cheap blue plastic stapler. He showed remarkable restraint. Instead of chopping it in half with a hacksaw or frying the poor thing with a blowtorch, he simply popped the stapler open and teased a variety of twangs and sproings from its spring-loaded mechanism. Here's a peek at his virtuosic technique:

Once he had captured enough source material, Diego sat down with his computer for some serious sound mangling. He explains, "What you can do now was just impossible in the past without a full studio with expensive stuff.  The kind of sound design I did for this is pretty intense; there's granular, subtractive, and resampling synthesis involved, it's a lot of work." I think it was worth the effort:

Diego Stocco - Music From a Stapler. © 2008 Diego Stocco, All Rights Reserved.

Link: Visit Diego Stocco's Official Site

Leipzig Is Calling

The music industry exists in a peculiar time warp where quality analog machines are coveted like diamonds. The Analogue Solutions Leipzig synthesizer is a case in point. This little monophonic gem would be completely at home in the mid-1970s. It offers classic "pure analogue voice circuitry," with a Moog-style filter and a pair of voltage controlled oscillators. The only thing that gives away its modern heritage is the MIDI interface with its integrated LCD. Not that MIDI is exactly new or groundbreaking these days, I admit.

The secret to its warm sound is the extensive use of discrete transistors, resistors and capacitors. There are no fancy DSP chips lurking within. In fact, the only ICs you'll find in the signal path are op-amps and transconductance amps. The bloody thing's built like a tank, too. The case is 1.2mm steel with solid wood end panels.

All this analogue wholesomeness doesn't come cheaply, of course. The Leipzig keyboard sells for £899 + tax. If you can make do without the keyboard, the rack version retails for £350 less, although it offers one less LFO/VCA and no headphone jack. Rating: Seriously lust-worthy.

Link: Leipzig Keyboard Monosynth

1980's Toshiba IK-1850 Camera Teaches Today's Camcorders A Thing Or Two

My video career has been a ragtag one, especially when I think back to the motley assortment of gear I've used over the years. In high school in the 80's I saved up all my summer job money to get a video camera. I couldn't afford an all-in-one camcorder, since it wasn't until the late 80's that camcorders dipped below $1000, so I bought an old two-piece outfit. The kit consisted of a (sort of) portable VCR, attached to a camera via a big umbilical wire.

Later when I was in film school, we were still using two-piece “portapak” pro setups. It was an interesting arrangement, sort of like getting stereo components. You could mix and match your recorder unit and the camera you wanted. I started off with a very entry level camera, and moved up to something with more oomph later. This Toshiba IK-1850 would have been a nice unit back then, and there are a few lessons here even for modern camcorders.

I don't know exactly what year this is from, but I'd guess early 80's. Auto-focus was a new feature, and from the size of the AF module on the lens, this camera was probably pretty early to the party. Astonishingly the Toshiba has a removable lens, a rare feature on consumer cameras then... and still almost unheard of now.

The viewfinder is a mini black and white CRT (easier to find focus versus a color LCD), and can be mounted on either side of the camera. There are on-camera adjustment knobs for color balance, iris, focus - no endless on-screen menus to page through! Also handy is the handle – today's cameras are so small, sometimes it's hard to know where to put my big paw.

I've learned to live without the above features when using a modern camera, but if there are any of you out there who happen to make camcorders for a living, here are the features from 20 years ago that never should have disappeared. Present on the Toshiba is a tripod mounting screw (two of them actually!) and a manual zoom lens. Some late model camcorders lack tripod mounting facilities (ghastly!), and substitute digital magnification for a real optical zoom. Digital jiggery pokery is okay, but there's a lot to be said for getting the picture right in the first place.

The Toshiba has manual focus and a real focus ring that you can grab onto. I played around with a recent model camera and the only way to get manual focus was to open a menu, and twiddle controls on the touchscreen. Ignoring my fear of bashing in the screen with my thumb... how am I supposed to focus on something when the on-screen controls and my fingers are covering the screen?

Even more important, this Toshiba has a mic input jack. Bliss. You don't need to be a pro to want to use a microphone that cost more than the ten cent one originally built into the camera. Remember that the best place for the camera is seldom the best place for the microphone. Wouldn't all those video bloggers out there benefit from a nice tack-on mic? Don't manufacturers see this as an opportunity to sell people more stuff?

Of course we've moved on from the 200 line (if we're lucky) imaging tubes inside the IK-1850, and this Toshiba isn't going to fit in anyone's pocket. Can we at least agree that it's unfortunate that we've lost lots of functions over the years that many people would probably like back? Let's not stifle people's creativity just to save five bucks in parts.

related:
First VHS camcorder was bright red!
Build your own progressive scan camcorder
More Fisher Price Pixelvisions than we thought?

The Ideal Radiophonic Christmas Gift

Tom Kipgen is a retired Spam dealer. His second career is far less gelatinous -- he designs and builds unique handcrafted radios. Kipgen's designs hearken back to the golden age of wireless, when a radio set was the centerpiece of a room.

This design -- Radio Moscow -- is a guaranteed conversation starter. The whimsical brass cupola perched on top of the 1625 tube is machined from 2" solid brass pipe, and the top and bottom plates are hand-lacquered Padauck wood. The set is built around an enormous triangular variable capacitor he discovered several years ago on eBay.

Kipgen explains, "It's been sitting on my shelf staring down at me every day since then with that just-got-to-use-me look on it's plates. What the heck do you do with a cap that's 7" tall and 5" on three sides?

It just figured that the set would have to be triangular too. Then the thought occurred that the tube's plate cap could also mimic the variable capacitor if it was great big and had great big fins as well. Why it's the shape of a poppy bulb I don't know. Well, actually, it's more like those funny hats sitting on buildings in Moscow."

Radio Moscow could be yours for a mere $327. His tube radio gallery features over twenty unique sets, including the twin cylinder Harleytron, the Flat Top shortwave and a single tube regenerative receiver that would be the perfect finishing touch for a mad scientist's lair.

Explore Tom's Handmade Radios

ACME Corporation Online Catalog For All You Looney Tunes Out There

Warner Brothers cartoon characters had it better than most flesh and blood movie stars. Instead of having to come up with motivated and practical ways to pull one over on their enemies, WB characters could simply leaf through a catalog that should have been labeled "plot devices" from the Acme company. Acme was the uber-manufacturer that seemed to make absolutely every kind of thing (they'd give some of my "convergence" items a run for their money), though they were seldom reliable.

In the cartoons, their principal customer was Wile E. Coyote (Carnivorous vulgaris), though other denizens of the Warner Brothers cartoon universe patronized the mail order house as well. Whether you needed an anvil or Triple Strength Fortified Leg Muscle Vitamins, Acme was one-stop shopping. Some accounts point to the real-world mail-order giant Sears as being the inspiration for Acme, which may not be far from the truth. An early catalog did offer anvils made by... wait for it... a real company called Acme! 

Considering how well they did in the pre-internet days (check out those near-instantaneous delivery times!), Acme may not even need an online catalog. However GP Markham has been good enough to collect all of the absurd/insane/unsafe products featured on-screen so that Acme can finally join web 2.0.

I can't be the only person who as a kid thought that Acme could be a real catalog company. After all there were so many other genuine companies out there that seemed a lot like Acme. Remember those galleries of prizes on the back of comic books you'd get for selling greeting cards? How about the still extant mega-merchant Johnson Smith Co.? I imagine that the warehouses of Amazon and Thinkgeek must look a lot like the shelves of Acme, especially if they added rockets to everything.

The Original Illustrated Catalog of ACME Products (accept no imitations)

related:
Vintage Pink Panther on DVD
Smurfs turn 50
Banana Splits - the cartoon hosts are back!
Cartoon covers for classical CD's

Too Many Buttons On Your Remote?

Okay, I'm a doofus. I've never been able to get a universal remote to work for me. I've tried a hundred dollar jobber with a reconfigurable LCD screen, I've tried one from the dollar store - no dice. I can maybe get one function to work, so a universal remote is just not going to fit into my universe. Therefore, like a lot of people I have a coffee table littered with remotes. 

As if multitudes of remotes weren't enough of a problem, almost all of them have nightmarish design. In some cases I've never seen anything designed to fit in a human hand that could be less accommodating to the human hand. Let's not even talk about those remotes you practically have to hold right up to the device you're controlling.

What a lot of remotes need to do is simplify. Since TV's don't come with adjustment knobs anymore, we have to do it all from the remote using tons of tiny and confusing buttons. Maybe RCA got it right with this corded remote. Not only will it work from anywhere in the room (within a ten foot radius), imagine how easy tech support must have been:

- befuddled customer: "I pressed the thing and all it does is change channels."

- warmly smug tech guy: "Hmm... have you tried the other button?"

I'm oversimplifying, though the VCR I had up until the early 90's was a top-loader with a corded remote. I was spoiled with forward and reverse scan on mine as well as a noise-filled pause... so there. Actually what I'd like to come back is something I remember seeing done in the 90's. As TV remotes got more sophisticated, the seldom used buttons were hidden away under a cover. Some companies went as far as to provide a pair of remotes (that's TWO remotes for you to lose in the couch!), a much simplified day-to-day unit, and a Sunday-go-to-meetings fancy pants one.

I hope that someone comes along someday to solve this multi-remote problem for me. Then again, walking the six feet to the television set every day just to control it may be the only exercise I get.

related:
Radio Shack remote control extender of the ancients
Atari 2600 joystick remote
Calculator watch with built in remote
General Electric's ginormous television

Automatic Vinyl

One bleak winter weekend in early 1979, my family drove down from Canada on a shopping expedition to Minot, North Dakota. It was something we did a few times a year. I vividly remember gorging on a smorgasbord of Saturday morning cartoons on the three major networks. Most Canadians will reluctantly agree that homegrown talent like the Friendly Giant and Mr. Dressup couldn't live up to the big-budget splendor of the Pink Panther and Scooby Doo.

However, my father showed little interest in cartoons that Saturday morning. He had something else on his mind -- a sleek new stereo. After long hours of tedious comparison shopping, he settled on a Sony console stereo with AM/FM radio, cassette, lots of fake woodgrain and a futuristic record changer.

When we got home, I was admonished to take great care of this amazing example of Japanese technology. I did, for the most part. But I was captivated by the robotic brilliance of the mechanical record changer, to the point that I gleefully encouraged it to cycle through an almost endless stack of discs whenever the opportunity arose. Mercifully, the Sony withstood my onslaught with stoic determination. It remained fully operational for decades, and its speakers still grace my parents' living room.

Of course, this is simply a long winded way of admitting that I'm irrationally smitten by record changers.

The most fascinating of all are the older ones, like this Zenith Cobra-Matic phonograph from the mid-1950s. It resembles the bastard love child of a Studebaker, a sewing machine and a metal lathe (apparently record players are OK with threesomes). The device had only two controls -- a 7-10-12" size selector and a variable speed control that allowed playback of anything from 16 2/3 RPM audio books to 78 RPM oldies.

Amazingly, the real world version of this device shares the same glistening sheen as the airbrushed beauty pictured in the ad, thanks to all-metal construction and high-gloss paint.

Inspired by the Plan 59 archives

The Return of Crocker Motorcycles

Crocker Motorcycles? Most people have never heard of them. Not surprising, considering that less than 100 of these two-wheeled hot rods were made in the years leading up to WWII.These magnificent machines might have been forgotten in the mists of time if it weren't for an appearance in a 1998 motorcycle exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum in New York. Nowadays, these old bikes are a collector's dream, estimated to be worth more than $100,000 each.

Part of what makes Al Crocker's bikes special is that he was a perfectionist who preferred to make things himself rather than relying on substandard parts from others. As a result, each of these bikes were essentially custom machines, with cast aluminum fuel tanks and lovingly assembled custom engines. The first few dozen bikes from the company earned a reputation as winning speedway racers. In 1936, Al and Paul Bigsby introduced a 1,000 cc model that could cruise at over 90 mph. The world took notice.

"The Crocker was built heavy duty for maximum performance, custom-tailored to the individual rider's order, and built in Al Crocker's own facility. Each buyer could choose color, degree of chrome trim, and even gear ratio and displacement!

Crocker introduced motorcycle design innovations that set his V-twin ahead of the Harleys and Indians of the mid 30's and 40's. The transmission could withstand incredible amounts of torque. This beautifully engineered three speed transmission coupled with a unique proprietary engine of Crocker's own design laid shame to anything that dared cross its path.

At 3.25" Bore and 3.625 Stroke, the 61 cubic inch engines were almost square. Cylinders were set 45 degrees apart. The compression ratio was rated at 7:1 on most machines but was known to go at least to 11:1 on some specials. The machine was put together with customizers in mind, too. The cylinder walls were a full 3/8-inch thick to allow for over-boring. This led to the creation of some big-bore Crockers of over 90 cu. in. that blew off anything in their way."

Unfortunately, Crocker's craftsmanlike approach would be the company's downfall. The labor-intensive production line was slow and prices were high. They simply couldn't compete and folded in the tough economic times of 1942.

The marque languished until a new Crocker Motorcycle Company began to produce replacement parts for the old machines in 1997. The Toronto-based team team can now produce all of the parts needed to assemble exact reproductions of the coveted Crocker classics. And, amazingly, the company is taking orders for a production run of 100 new bikes. Back to the future, indeed.

Visit the Crocker Motorcycle Company official site

Taylor Desk Clock – Sleek & Stylin' Time & Temperature

When you wanted to give a classy man-gift, for decades it meant that the object had to have real wood, chrome and/or brushed metal, angular design, and if at all possible hold a pen. This Taylor clock has “executive gift aisle” written all over it. Given the glacial pace at which men's taste changes, this clock could come from the 60's, 70's, maybe even the 80's. The clock takes a design cue from an airplane cockpit. The three dials measure your day as the hour tolls, the temperature rises, and humidity engulfs.

I like the looks of this U.S.A. made desk clock, but I'd need to restock my office with other sundries that are equally slick. I'm not complaining, though I will grouse a bit about battery installation. You have to unscrew the back of the clock to tip the mechanism out. I had a lot of difficulty adjusting the clock to keep good time, necessitating multiple disassemblies. 

While the clock inspires admiration from the front, the rear invites scorn. If you're the kind of high powered executive (or dad) who has this on his desk, do you really want the people that come cowering into your office to have to stare at the screwholes? What am I supposed to put back there? Some sort of manly doily?

I think that some man-gifts today still have these aesthetic qualities, but many more don't. Where we once had the warmth of real wood, now we have textured plastic. Replacing metallic angular features are soft biomorphic curves. Aviator inspired analog dials have given away to LCD readouts of the correct time and temperature downloaded from the Atomic Clock. I guess that both devices can measure the beat of time marching on – but at least with the Taylor I'll know the relative humidity and I'll always have a pen

related:

Nixie tube mantle clock
Cathedral radio shaped mantle clock
Retro/modern Tivoli clock radio
Delft ceramic clock done in cross-stitch

Personics - iTunes In The Analog 80's

In the late 80's, cassettes were in. LP's were on their way out, as were 45rpm singles. That meant that there was no longer a way to buy a single song you wanted (cassette singles - or "cassingles" were still a few years away).  Personics was a company ready to fill the gap with their kiosks in some major record stores. The machine would let you create a list of your own musical selections (the machine also let you preview a few seconds of each song), and 20 minutes later the clerk would hand you your own mixtape with custom-printed label. Check out the the TV commercial.

Once 45's disappeared, it really wasn't until the dawn of the internet that it was easy to buy a single track of music. Of course you could make mixtapes before this, but that meant having access to all the albums with your favorite selections on them. The Personics was an interesting idea, but I don't get a sense that it was ever very widespread. It hit some larger music chain stores, but I personally didn't see it all that much. The ad I've included at the top of this post cites sales of over a million songs, so why didn't the service stick around longer? Why did it take until the introduction of iTunes only a few years ago for the model of buying individual songs to finally work?

related:
Rebirth of the local CD store
Mix tape memory stick
Origin of the audio cassette
Stylish Ampex Micro-24 cassette recorder

Should We Hack Vintage Gadgets?

I just read Marc de Vinck's guide to converting a vintage camera into a webcam on Make. I was torn. On one hand, I was happy to see an old camera escape a forgotten corner of the attic to live a new life. However, it was painful to see him smash the lens with a hammer and screwdriver before gluing a cheap Logitech Webcam into its place.

After all, this isn't a masterful DIY project like building an analogue computer or arcade console -- it's arts and crafts taken to a Neanderthal level. Anyone can whack something with a brick and glue a mass-produced widget into the resulting hole.

75-year-old cameras are fairly uncommon. A few short years from now, Marc's retro webcam will be languishing in the landfill. Had this Agfa escaped the wrath of his hammer, it might have remained on earth for decades or centuries to come as a piece of photographic history.

Am I being overly sentimental? You tell me...

Retro Video Game Puffy Stickers With A Naughty Surprise

Years and years ago I found this set of puffy video game stickers and a retro video game styled background board at a thrift store. I didn't look at the set very intently. It looked like something you'd buy in a grocery store.  The perforated plastic background makes it easy to reposition the puffy stickers... so I guess it's a sort of Presto Magix that's reusable.

It looked vaguely Taiwanese knock-offy so I bought it, but then it went into a box and I forgot about it for more than a decade. I ran across it recently, and thought again about my love of retro gaming culture and the chintzy goofiness that came with it. I thought about the lost art of puffy stickers, and how odd and cheap the art in this set is, and then... hello... I finally saw what I hadn't been seeing in all this time.

Take a close look at these stickers. It's not some fakey versions of video game characters we love... it's naked ladies being chased by police. Ladies who look a bit like an upside down Ziggy, but ladies nonetheless. There are a few video game standards – like bonus objects, which in this case are ladies' underwear. Some of the stickers are styled to look like game graphics, and others look like saucy greeting cards gone wrong. My guess is that it's from the early 80's at the latest, but then why style the stickers to look like 60's clip art?

We've had a lot of “what the hell” objects here on Retro Thing, but this is one of the "what the hell-iest". I've been wracking my brain for the intended audience, and the closest thing I can think of is that maybe it's a poorly thought out carnival prize. Clearly it's not for kids.. at least I hope it's not.  Dirty novelty gift? But what's the point? Is there some holiday or anniversary of dumpling-shaped women on the run from cops that look like Mr. Magoo? It seems like someone could have easily bought this as a gift for children – then had to answer a lot of awkward questions later.

Feel free to add your "what the hell" guesses to the comments section. Don't tell me that I'm the guardian of the last of this kind of thing on earth...

related:
Presto Magix - cartooning for the artistically declined
The art of paint by number sets
Swanky Lady barware
Sugar Shack souvenir glasses
Novelty necktie with a saucy secret