Okay, so I got this idea buzzing around in my head for a while – making some kind of music box, but not just any regular one. I wanted something that felt old, like really old, and played itself, maybe with a slightly weird, resonant sound. I started calling it my “ancient autoharmonic music box” project, mostly to myself, just sounded cool.
Getting Started
First thing, I needed a box. I didn’t want to buy anything new, that defeats the ‘ancient’ vibe, right? Dug around in the shed and found this old wooden chest, small thing, used to hold maybe letters or something. Looked perfect. Bit dusty, hinges were rusty, but solid wood.
Then, the ‘auto’ part. How to make it play itself? I remembered scavenging parts from an old broken clock ages ago. Found those bits in a coffee can.
- A mainspring
- Some gears
- A little winding key
Thought I could probably rig this clockwork mechanism to turn something, like a traditional music box cylinder.
Building the Guts
Cleaning the box took some time. Sanded it down gently, just enough to smooth it out but leave the aged look. Fixed the hinges with a bit of oil and patience.
Next, tackled the clockwork. This was fiddly. I’m no clockmaker, mind you. I basically took the spring and gear train and tried to adapt it. The goal was to get one gear shaft spinning slowly and steadily when the spring unwound. Took a lot of trial and error, gears jamming, spring flying off. Eventually, got a setup that seemed to work, providing slow rotation for maybe a minute or two when wound up.
For the music part, I needed tines – those little metal teeth that make the sound. Didn’t have a broken music box handy, so I improvised. Found some thin, stiff metal strips. Cut them into different lengths. Figured longer ones would make lower notes, shorter ones higher. This was pure guesswork tuning at first.
Then, the cylinder. Found a solid piece of hardwood dowel. Attached it to the spinning shaft from my makeshift clockwork motor. Now the hardest part: the pins. Hammered tiny nails into the dowel, trying to create some pattern. My goal wasn’t a specific tune, just a sequence of notes that sounded okay together, sort of harmonic, you know? Placed some pins close together, hoping they’d make the tines ring out in a unique way. Getting those pins positioned just right so they’d pluck the tines took ages.
Putting It All Together
Mounted the clockwork motor inside the box. Then carefully positioned the tine comb (that’s what I called my row of metal strips) so the pins on the rotating cylinder would just catch the tips. This needed constant adjustment. Too close, the tines got stuck. Too far, no sound.
Tuning was next. Plucked each tine, listened. Filed bits off the ends to raise the pitch. Added tiny weights (bits of solder) near the base to lower it. I wasn’t aiming for perfect concert pitch, just something that sounded pleasant, maybe a bit melancholic and old-timey. I even tried layering a couple of thin tines loosely on top of each other for some notes, hoping for that ‘autoharmonic’ buzz or resonance I imagined. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it just sounded bad.
The Final Result
After a lot of tweaking, bending metal, repositioning the comb, and adjusting pin heights, I finally got it working consistently. I wound the key, the clockwork gears whirred softly, the wooden cylinder turned, and the pins plucked the tines.
It doesn’t play a complex melody, more like a repeating, simple sequence of notes. The sound isn’t crisp like a new music box; it’s a bit clunky, metallic, but with a definite resonance, especially on the notes where I layered the tines. It sounds… well, old. And it plays by itself. So, my “ancient autoharmonic music box” felt like a success. It sits on my shelf now, and every so often I wind it up and listen to its clanky little tune. It’s a good reminder of the fun in just making something with your hands from old bits and pieces.
