The small movement of the stylus scraping through the grooves on the revolving cylinder is amplified by the large horn that stares out into space. We hear words that were captured over a century ago: voices of men who started the new technological revolution which made the world grow smaller by the day.

Exactly 110 years ago, a young man walked into the offices of the "Scientific American" magazine carrying his latest creation under his arm. The Editor was used to seeing new inventions, but today he was going to witness an extraordinary moment in history. As the machine was carefully placed onto his desk, young Thomas Edison explained that it was designed to "record and reproduce the sound of the human voice". He began winding the machine and spoke into the small disc that was connected to a needle, which in turn transcribed an imprint onto the revolving tin foil. "Mary had a little lamb" was recorded and, to the Editor's amazement, played back again. The unearthly voice drifting through the outer offices piqued the staff's curiosity, drawing them into the small office. The floor, which was not used to such weight, started creaking, prompting the Editor to remark to Edison, "Would you please mind leaving the building!"

This invention, so crude and yet so effective, still amazes people even today. While man has developed technology to land and walk on the moon, the L.P. Record technology we use today is virtually unchanged in principle from the first "tin foil" machine of 1877. Even more amazing is the influence the phonograph and its offspring have had on our lives in the past 110 years; the fruits of a gifted group of individuals, pioneering technology with a vision for the future.

Like many brilliant ideas in our time, the phonograph was conceived whilst Edison was in fact conducting experiments on a completely different idea. He was investigating ways to ensure that Morse signals could be successfully and reliably sent over long distances without the loss of some signals between telegraph stations. At the time, he was working on a new method of recording the signal by using a needle to transcribe an imprint onto a paper disc mounted on a revolving plate. Whilst pondering a solution to the problem, the thought occurred to him: why couldn't the human voice be recorded and stored on such a machine? He became engrossed with the idea and excitedly began to work on designs for this machine. Finally, after completing his sketch, he asked his foreman John Kruesi to construct a prototype with which he could test his theory. When Kruesi returned with the machine and questioned its purpose, Edison blithely replied, "Oh this machine is going to talk". After one failed attempt, he succeeded in recording and playing back the first recorded message: "Mary had a little lamb".

Whilst Edison applied himself to this fantastic creation, across the Atlantic another man had a similar vision. In France, Charles Cros had drawn plans for a similar machine and submitted them to the Society Francais. Unfortunately for him, he was beaten to the patent office by Edison, who was granted the fastest patent in U.S. history. The reason was simple: there was absolutely nothing on record that even remotely resembled his "phonograph". And so Thomas Edison entered the history books as the inventor of the first machine that could record sound and play it back.

Eight years later, in 1885, the gifted inventor Alexander Graham Bell decided to investigate this phonograph. Using money he had received from winning the "Volta" prize, he teamed up with Chichester Bell and Charles Tainter to try and improve the tin foil cylinders. These cylinders could be replayed many times, but to remove them from the machine they had to be peeled off, which distorted the imprinted signal. Their solution was to use a wax-coated cardboard cylinder which could be removed, stored and replaced without damage.

Bell immediately decided to approach Edison with the idea of pooling their resources, but Edison promptly showed him the door - he didn't like the idea of anyone sharing his favourite invention! A classic photograph of Edison and his group of technicians was captioned "Edison and his insomnia squad". They would work non-stop for up to five days and nights on a project until they felt they had made satisfactory progress. It was after toiling through one of these five day stints that they had an answer to Bell's cylinders. By developing a new moulding technique using metallize saps, they were able to produce seamless cylinders made entirely from beeswax. These proved to be far sturdier and retained the signal longer.

At the same time, Emile Berliner, a German immigrant newly settled in America, conceived the idea of using a flattened disc in place of the cylinder. This was the birth of the "Gramophone". Berliner had looked at the invention from a production point of view. Cylinder production was both clumsy and time consuming. Every cylinder had to be individually recorded - imagine the patience required by the performers of the day! Using a photoengraving process similar to that used in the printing industry, Berliner was able to churn out discs by the hundreds. A zinc disc was covered with wax, then a stylus passed through the wax leaving an imprint of the signal. The disc was then plated with metal and immersed in an acid bath producing a reverse master disc which was used to stamp the records. The first "records" were produced in a button factory using a hard rubber named ebonite. Because of ebonite's unstable mechanical properties, it was later replaced by "shellac", used to produce all 78 LPs until the mid 1960s.

Although working towards the same ideal, Edison and Berliner had contrasting philosophies. Edison was a perfectionist. He preferred the cylinder because of its "constant velocity recording" compared to the varying velocity of the flattened disc as the stylus spiralled inwards. His absolute perfectionism extended even to the crates he used for shipping his machines. To test their strength he had them dropped from a height of three storeys to the street - if they remained in tact they were acceptable. He alone instituted tone tests which involved comparing the recording with the true sound of the artist. Although Edison fought to defend his cylinder, maintaining that it would produce every nuance of sound, the opportunity to reap greater financial success lay in the development of the discs with their longer playing time and their bonus second side.

Originally, Edison perceived these machines helping business and education. He had not envisaged their enormous future as a means of entertainment, but once Bell and others involved themselves in this now lucrative industry, he was swept along with them.

The oldest record still in existence was recorded by Sir Arthur Sullivan in Little Menlo, London, in 1888. In those days, celebrated people were invited to dinner and asked to say a few words into the new machines. The cylinders were then dispatched across the ocean to Edison who played them in the U.S.A. Sir Arthur's recording aptly summed up the attitude of the time: "Congratulating Mr. Edison on the power that he has developed, but I am somewhat horrified at the thought that so much hideous and bad music may be put on record forever". What prophetic words were uttered almost one hundred years ago!

In 1899, Berliner's laboratory assistant, Fred Gaisberg, was sent to London to produce the first commercial European recordings and to support the expansion of The Gramophone Company into the field of disc recording. Meanwhile, French artist Francois Bereau had painted the Edison machine with a little dog looking inquisitively into the horn, entitled "His Master's Voice". The new management of the Gramophone Company were so impressed by the painting that they asked Bereau to replace the Edison machine with their own. The altered painting became the trademark of the Gramophone Co. and has been loved around the world ever since.

Fred Gaisberg, along with his brother, Will, were totally enraptured with this new technology and quickly moved into the recording side of the business as well as manufacturing the machines. By our standards the recordists of the day would have been considered insane. portable recording equipment consisted of gramophones in cast iron cases, wax tablets, and the ovens necessary to preheat the wax for recording. The total weight of all this equipment was in excess of 2 tonnes. Not deterred in the slightest, the brothers became famous for their recording expeditions which took them across Europe, through India and into Russia. Along the way, in Milan, they recorded the young Caruso and made his name known throughout the world.

In Russia, they decided to record the nation's pride - their magnificent church bells. Having arrived in St. Petersburg, they were faced with a terrible dilemma: How were they to record way up there in the bell tower without the wax hardening before they were ready to record? It was clearly impossible to haul the ovens up into the towers, and the alternative seemed too ludicrous to even consider. Refusing to allow logic to stand in their way, they approached the authorities with their problem. The obliging Russians removed the bells from the tower and installed them in the Gaisberg's hotel room. Voila! Recordings of the Russian bells!

The speed with which the demand for the new recording machines travelled around the world ensured that they reached even the most remote regions. Even the far-away Australian colonies were not forgotten. Six months after its American debut, units were brought privately "down under" and in 1890 Professor Douglas Archibald M.A., Oxon, brought the latest Edison machine with cylinder recordings of British Statesman William Gladstone and other dignitaries. He demonstrated these recordings in Sydney and later at the Athenaeum theatre in Melbourne where the local press proclaimed:

"The phonograph, by means of its own mechanism, actually reproduces with startling verisimilitude the human voice, so that the spoken utterances of the great will endure through all time.

"The possibilities of the phonograph are not limited by time or space nor can its record be obliterated. A thousand years from hence, the voices of the people will speak again. A single speech may be reproduced ten thousand times. The voices of the Living and the Dead will mingle in Futility".

It was heady stuff indeed and the people of the day clamoured for the new machines which could permanently record historic speeches and the musical performances of the acclaimed artists of the day. From this time on, such performances could be heard by all, not merely the privileged audiences.

The first tin foil machines were privately imported and used in many different ways: as gimmicks in side shows, as attractions at the major agricultural shows and for serious recording. Music shops, bicycle shops and hardware stores were the initial outlets for the phonograph - and all capitalized on the drawing power of these amazing new machines. The Outback was served by "Hawkers" who would carry them in their wagons along with their other wares. The Hawkers were often the only link between isolated homesteads and civilization, and their visits were important events in the lives of the people who lived in these remote areas. Imagine the impact of the phonograph when they could now listen to the voices of people thousands of miles away! It transcended the telegraph for communication because the phonograph offered something more - entertainment. Even the country doctors would travel with a phonograph as part of their equipment; it became a welcome part of their service, and most likely a diversion from many painful treatments.

Just after the turn of the century, two companies - The Gramophone Company and Columbia - set up offices in Sydney to import the thousands of discs necessary to supply the Australian market. Blueprints appeared in "Works" and other do it yourself magazines which inspired local manufacturers to get into the act. By this time the larger retail stores such as Mutual, Foy's and Myers had introduced the product to their catalogues, and they also offered a monthly service of new discs to their customers.

However, it wasn't until the early 1920s that Australia saw the establishment of their first disc manufacturing company; D. Davis and Company in Darlinghurst, Sydney, 1924. Davis imported his master discs directly from the U.S.A. He was followed by the Gramophone Company which set up its own plant in Erskineville in Sydney, pressing discs from both American and British masters. Ultimately, in October, 1925, Columbia took up the challenge to set up both production and recording facilities to satisfy a growing demand for the local, Australian talent. Their factory in Homebush quickly asserted itself as the centre of our disc industry.

Within a few short years, a plethora of small companies emerged to compete in this new lucrative entertainment industry. The coming of the Great Depression and the new fad, Radio, saw them disappearing almost as quickly as they had sprung up. HMV, Columbia and Parlophone, all in difficulties, joined forces in an attempt to avoid the financial catastrophe which had befallen their smaller colleagues. The new company was named EMI - Electrical and Musical Industries.

Rapid developments in electronic amplification and Radio sealed the fate of the cumbersome and purely mechanical phonograph. It had lost its mass appeal and was retired to the attic of history - the golden years of the phonograph were left as memories.

Today's collectors of the phonograph are particularly fortunate in being able to enjoy a fascinating chapter in the history of man. As one collector said, "Collectors are people who are preserving history to pass it on to the next generation" - a purpose very close to that of the phonograph itself.

Tracking down these disused phonographs after they have settled in some hidden niche for many years can be a challenge in itself. Once found, the laborious job of restoring them to their former glory begins. The polishing of the horns made from brass, tin or even glass; machining pieces to replace those lost or eroded by time and restaining the beautiful oak or walnut cases revives the machines, giving their owners the same sense of discovery which inspired their inventors. The demand for restored machines is such that collectors are willing to pay many thousands of dollars for the rarer Edison machines. One such machine was recently sold to the National Archives in Canberra for over $5,000.

By the cranking of a handle, the voices of Sir Arthur Sullivan, Florence Nightingale, Rudyard Kipling and Billy Hughes may be heard to speak again. People who played important and dramatic roles in our history, who led lives vastly different to our own, return to us. They are the voices of the past and they will accompany us into the future.