Happy #808day everybody! And as we're celebrating the Roland TR-808 Rhythm Composer I make no apologies for sampling one of my favourite previous threads.
This is the story of digital synthesised music...
In the 1940s Musique Concrète introduced the idea of sampling and sound distortion into musical composition - often with the help of audio tape splicing.
It was all very avant-garde, but it was limited by the available technology.
However by 1957 the massive experimental RCA Mark II Sound Synthesizer had shown composers how an analogue synthesizer could be paired with a programmable sequencer to play music too complex for human musicians to manage.
Yes, it is big.
The Moog synthesizer debuted in 1964. With separate oscillators, envelope generators, modulators, amplifiers and other ways to create and shape electronic noise it was the first commercial analogue synthesizer. Composer Wendy Carlos was an early pioneer of its unique sound.
Analogue drum machines also began to emerge in the 1960s, each with a distinctive sound. Ikutaro Kakehashi was hugely influential in their development, working at Ace Tone in the 1960s (pioneers of the Rhythm Ace drum machine) before founding Roland in 1972.
Just as important as the synth was the sequencer: hardware or software to record and play back sequences of notes. Step sequencers were common in drum machines, letting you programme complex percussion. Others could be connected to analogue synths to allow complex arrangements.
By the early 1970s portable analogue synths and sequencers meant any band worth it's salt had to have an analogue knob twiddler staring at an oscilloscope. Sonic swoops and kling-klang beats were in, and the keyboard player was the new magician of pop.
Some musicians went even further. Kraftwerk designed their own drum synthesizer and sequencer, though their light controlled drum kit was less successful. It looked like music and machines were becoming a perfect match.
However...
Early analogue synths could be tricky things. Normally monophonic they took some setting up, and didn't always stay in tune for long. Long delays because someone plugged in the wrong patch chord or stood on the step sequencer made some musicians curse these electronic newcomers.
But over time improvements did happen: patch chords gave way to integrated units and polyphonic synths became more common. The Sequential Circuits Prophet 5, launched in 1978, was one of the most popular (and reliable) of the later analogue synths.
But it was a pain to sequence instruments from different manufacturers because there was no shared technical standards. Plus prices were still high. Despite the interesting music the analogue synth was not quite ready to lead the band - Bionic Trumpet notwithstanding!
Fortunately there was a new kid on the block: digital synthesis! In 1973 Yamaha licenced the algorithms for frequency modulation synthesis, which they then used to built a prototype digital synthesizer in 1974.
The New England Digital Synclavier, launched in 1977 and updated in 1980, was one of the first digital synths to use FM synthesis. Later models allowed digital sampling to magnetic disc, meaning that a vast range of new sounds were available to you. It was also polyphonic.
The 1979 Fairlight CMI took things a stage further with digital sampling, three sequencers and 28Mb of memory built in. It cost the same as the average house, but that didn't stop Peter Gabriel from buying the first one.
At the other end of the price spectrum was the 1979 Casio VL-Tone - a combined calculator, synthesizer and sequencer the size of a half baguette. It may have looked like a toy, but it introduced a generation to programmable music.
Drum machines were also going digital. The 1982 LynnDrum was one of the first to digitally sample, sequence and play real drum sounds, while the Roland TR-909 offered a hybrid mix of analogue synthesized sounds and digital samples.
More importantly in 1982 the MIDI technical standard was agreed. A MIDI link could carry up to sixteen channels of data, allowing synths, sequencers, drum machines and anything else MIDI-enabled to work together. Studio-level technology was suddenly available to anyone.
And then... in 1983 Yamaha launched the mighty mid-priced DX7; polyphonic, programmable and MIDI-enabled. It may be the best selling digital synth of all time. It certainly became one of the dominant sounds of '80s synthpop.
The digital synthesizer began to influence more and more musicians, especially as it could be linked to more than just keyboards. Guitar synths, wind synths, virtual synths - you name it and FM synthesis was probably trying to be compatible with it.
And thanks to the keytar - particularly the Roland SH-101 - the keyboard player was no longer stuck at the back with the drummer. Now they could dance at the front of the Top Of The Pops stage with the guitarist!
The MIDI standard made it much simpler (and cheaper) to link synths to computers. With a MIDI sound card - plus a music macro language programme - a single person could programme a complete song through various synths without needing to read or understand music notation.
The Atari ST, launched in 1985, certainly owed some of its success to having built-in MIDI ports, along with a reasonable price tag. From Tangerine Dream to Fatboy Slim the ST has powered a number of artists. Atari Teenage Riot even named themselves after it.
Analogue didn't die away however, instead it helped drive forward a lot of new underground music. The Roland TR-808 analogue drum machine became a powerhouse of 80s and 90s dance music.
Similarly the Roland TB-303 analogue bass synth may have been a flop when it was released in 1981, but second hand models created the sound of Acid House in the late 1980s. Analogue and digital weren't rivals, they were friendly competitors.
Today modern computers can emulate almost any type of synth or rhythm machine - analogue or digital. The synth is certainly here to stay, and music is (probably) all the better for it.
More future sounds another day...
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In the 1970s a fascinating engineering battle took place between America and Japan for control of the future. The prize was the world we live in now. And one of the key battles took place on your wrist.
This is the story of the digital watch...
'Digital' is a magical marketing word. Like 'laser' or 'turbo' it suggests progress, mastery and the future. People like those ideas. They like them enough to spend a lot of money on products that have them, especially if they can be a first adopter.
And so it was with the wristwatch. Electronic quartz watches were already a thing by the 1960s: an analogue movement driven by a quartz crystal resonator, powered by a small button battery.
But one American company was setting out on a new timekeeping odyssey...
Today in pulp... let's look back at a Shōjo manga artist whose work celebrated friendships between women: Jun'ichi Nakahara.
Jun'ichi Nakahara was born in Higashikagawa in 1913 and worked as an illustrator, a fashion designer and a doll maker. His work is highly regarded in Japan and he was a significant influence on modern manga art.
In the '20s and '30s Nakahara often drew for Shōjo no Tomo ("Girl's Friend") magazine. The style at the time was for demure, dreamlike imagery, but Nakahara added to this large expressive eyes, often reflecting the light.
Today in pulp I try to decipher 1980s Japanese street style, with the help of Olive: The Magazine for Romantic Girls!
This may involve frills...
Street style is an ever-changing mix of styles, brands, attitudes and poses with various influences. And you normally have to be in the right place at the right time to capture it.
Which is where magazines come in! Photograping, documenting and deconstructing fashion never goes out of style, and in the late 1970s Japanese youth had one key guide to help them: Popeye!
In February 1974 something profound and inexplicable happened to author Philip K Dick that changed his life forever. Was it an illness, a psychotic reaction, or something truly mystical?
Today in pulp I look back at the exegesis of Philip K Dick...
Philip K Dick was both prolific and influential. In his youth he came to the conclusion that, in a certain sense, the world is not entirely real and there is no way to confirm whether it is truly there.
By the end of the 1960s Philip K Dick had published over 40 novels and stories, as well as winning the 1963 Hugo Award for The Man In The High Castle. But he still struggled financially.
What with you being so busy and everythign you may not have visited your local library in a while.
So come with me on a virtual library tour, courtesy of stock photography, to see what we do for a living...
The enquiries desk is normally your first stop in a library, and this is where you will meet The Angry Librarian!
Why is she angry? Because people keep asking her stupid questions!
"Are you open?"
"Do you have a toilet?"
"That chair's wobbly!"
"Why isn't it available in audiobook?"
"Someone else is on the computer and that's not fair!"
Today in pulp I look at the original white stripes: the world of dazzle camoflague!
Traditional pattern camoflague had been used by the British Royal Navy to break up a ship's outline for some time. But in 1917 artist Norman Wilkinson presented the Admiralty with a different idea - camoflague that confused enemy rangefinders.
Dazzle - known in the US as Razzle Dazzle - would use high contrast colours in irregular patterns to make it difficult for enemy gunners to calculate a ship's range and bearing. This would (hopefully) lead to them taking up a poor firing position when they attacked.