Well, what a to-do 
I went in the FMB bar tonight (see TPD, where this tale belongs, if you don't know what I mean by that) and there I met a jazz pianist of my acquaintance who was in possession of an accordion - not a tiny squeezebox, but a proper piano-accordion.
He's normally a very mellow guy, but he was pretty drunk and at some point he took umbrage to one of the other customers - a perfectly harmless young chap who was comporting himself with dignity - and started kicking him. Naturally the chap objected to this, whereupon the musician launched into an aggressive argument.
The doormen were immediately on the spot and, after spending some time trying to work out what was going on in the hope things could be sorted out amicably, they realised that the musician would have to be ejected. As this was going on, the guy he was aggrieved by accepted the suggestion to step outside temporarily in the hope that this might help calm the situation.
One doorman grabbed the musician from behind, arms tucked upwards under his elbows, and hauled him backwards towards the door; but the musician struggled like a good 'un and kept breaking at least one arm free and lunging forwards, before being re-grabbed and dragged, and struggling back again.
I realised what he was trying to do: he wasn't going to leave without his accordion, which he had placed on the floor next to the bar. I moved over and grabbed the accordion's strap, picked it up (they're heavy, them things) and held it out to him as he once again broke free from the doorman's grip.
(BTW, said doorman is a very stocky chap made almost entirely out of muscle; it's a tribute to his restraint that he kept letting the chap get slightly away rather than hurting him as he struggled.)
Anyhow, the musician was then able to grab the accordion strap as I offered it to him and, with it safe in his grasp, he allowed himself to be hauled out on to the pavement.
"Good," I thought; "Now he's got his accordion, he's going to go quietly."
Apparently not
Having been released by the doorman, he rounded on the chap he originally had the grievance with (who, you will recall, had stepped outside) and, after hurling some abuse, hurled the accordion
The chap darted out of the way and as the doormen rushed up to remonstrate with the musician the chap was able to dart past them and get back inside.
I was looking out of the big plate-glass window as this was going on. With the chap safely back inside, the doormen backed off, as the musician indicated he would now leave.
He came back to the accordion lying on the pavement and picked it up by its strap. Then he looked - and it seemed that he looked directly at me - and, swinging it by its strap, he hurled the accordion at the window, straight towards me
Of course he was actually looking at the chap he'd originally got hacked off with for no good reason, who was now standing just behind me (although I didn't know that).
He then stormed off. The doorman who had dragged him out picked up the accordion and brought it inside, where it now resides in the FMB bar's lost property collection.
This unseemly episode answers at least one question, but opens another up for debate. The question that is answered is "Can the windows of the FMB bar withstand the impact of an accordion being hurled at them with main force?" and the answer is clearly "Yes, at least once."
The other question is more recondite: was this Dadaism, Surrealism, or Daliesque?
The accordion was a recurring theme in the art of the early twentieth century. Its use as a weapon accords with the bizarre and (in some ways) nihilistic attitudes of the early Dadaists; Tristan Tzara would certainly have recognised this as an act of Dada.
Then again, the concept of the accordion as weapon has a Surrealist quality relating to subconscious associations of "the squeezebox" with the modern (and demotic) terminology of the woman as "the squeeze" and, through such objectification, as a weapon of social status: "My squeeze is better-looking than your squeeze".
Although Dali is often categorised as a Surrealist, he wasn't really; he was just Dali, unique unto himself.
I can't help but feel that, if Dali had concocted this scene, it would have involved an artificial limb somewhere along the line.
For a Surrealist, there would have to have been some specific psychological relationship between the weapon aspect and the squeezing aspect.
For the Dadaist, none of it needs to make sense; the fact that it happened, and involved an accordion, confers a sufficient degree of ridiculousness on the whole preposterous scene to make it art, even though it wasn't intended as such.
So I conclude that it was Dada: all very silly, and none the worse for that. Who said things have to make sense?
I'm glad I long ago chose Dada as the guiding principle in my understanding of the world
I went in the FMB bar tonight (see TPD, where this tale belongs, if you don't know what I mean by that) and there I met a jazz pianist of my acquaintance who was in possession of an accordion - not a tiny squeezebox, but a proper piano-accordion.
He's normally a very mellow guy, but he was pretty drunk and at some point he took umbrage to one of the other customers - a perfectly harmless young chap who was comporting himself with dignity - and started kicking him. Naturally the chap objected to this, whereupon the musician launched into an aggressive argument.
The doormen were immediately on the spot and, after spending some time trying to work out what was going on in the hope things could be sorted out amicably, they realised that the musician would have to be ejected. As this was going on, the guy he was aggrieved by accepted the suggestion to step outside temporarily in the hope that this might help calm the situation.
One doorman grabbed the musician from behind, arms tucked upwards under his elbows, and hauled him backwards towards the door; but the musician struggled like a good 'un and kept breaking at least one arm free and lunging forwards, before being re-grabbed and dragged, and struggling back again.
I realised what he was trying to do: he wasn't going to leave without his accordion, which he had placed on the floor next to the bar. I moved over and grabbed the accordion's strap, picked it up (they're heavy, them things) and held it out to him as he once again broke free from the doorman's grip.
(BTW, said doorman is a very stocky chap made almost entirely out of muscle; it's a tribute to his restraint that he kept letting the chap get slightly away rather than hurting him as he struggled.)
Anyhow, the musician was then able to grab the accordion strap as I offered it to him and, with it safe in his grasp, he allowed himself to be hauled out on to the pavement.
"Good," I thought; "Now he's got his accordion, he's going to go quietly."
Apparently not
Having been released by the doorman, he rounded on the chap he originally had the grievance with (who, you will recall, had stepped outside) and, after hurling some abuse, hurled the accordion
The chap darted out of the way and as the doormen rushed up to remonstrate with the musician the chap was able to dart past them and get back inside.
I was looking out of the big plate-glass window as this was going on. With the chap safely back inside, the doormen backed off, as the musician indicated he would now leave.
He came back to the accordion lying on the pavement and picked it up by its strap. Then he looked - and it seemed that he looked directly at me - and, swinging it by its strap, he hurled the accordion at the window, straight towards me
Of course he was actually looking at the chap he'd originally got hacked off with for no good reason, who was now standing just behind me (although I didn't know that).
He then stormed off. The doorman who had dragged him out picked up the accordion and brought it inside, where it now resides in the FMB bar's lost property collection.
This unseemly episode answers at least one question, but opens another up for debate. The question that is answered is "Can the windows of the FMB bar withstand the impact of an accordion being hurled at them with main force?" and the answer is clearly "Yes, at least once."
The other question is more recondite: was this Dadaism, Surrealism, or Daliesque?
The accordion was a recurring theme in the art of the early twentieth century. Its use as a weapon accords with the bizarre and (in some ways) nihilistic attitudes of the early Dadaists; Tristan Tzara would certainly have recognised this as an act of Dada.
Then again, the concept of the accordion as weapon has a Surrealist quality relating to subconscious associations of "the squeezebox" with the modern (and demotic) terminology of the woman as "the squeeze" and, through such objectification, as a weapon of social status: "My squeeze is better-looking than your squeeze".
Although Dali is often categorised as a Surrealist, he wasn't really; he was just Dali, unique unto himself.
I can't help but feel that, if Dali had concocted this scene, it would have involved an artificial limb somewhere along the line.
For a Surrealist, there would have to have been some specific psychological relationship between the weapon aspect and the squeezing aspect.
For the Dadaist, none of it needs to make sense; the fact that it happened, and involved an accordion, confers a sufficient degree of ridiculousness on the whole preposterous scene to make it art, even though it wasn't intended as such.
So I conclude that it was Dada: all very silly, and none the worse for that. Who said things have to make sense?
I'm glad I long ago chose Dada as the guiding principle in my understanding of the world
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