The Digital Keyboards Inc Synergy II+ is a digital additive/FM synthesizer that sounds like no other. Somewhat similar to the extremely popular Japanese Yamaha DX7, its tone is mellower and warmer. The Synergy appealed to many performers and composers in that it was, like the Synclavier (one of Michael Jackson’s famous early synthesizers) , made in USA.
It’s estimated that only 700-800 Synergy keyboards were made and that less than 100 are in operation today.
Due to it’s rarity and lack of many working examples, it is not easy to garner modern day opinions and user experiences and so it makes sense to paste some stuff from wiki:
“Analog synths of the same era (the late 1970s and early 1980s when the Z-80 computer chip ruled the electronic world) were subject to environmental changes in the input controls that meant every performance, even after a short delay, would be different. The tuning capacitors would drift due to performance venue temperature changes or recording studio humidity and temperature changes making it very difficult to stay in tune with other instruments and especially other electronic instruments.
One way around this was to spend huge sums of money on the latest high end digital synthesizers that held their tunings digitally. Famous electronic artist Wendy Carlos (her originally soundtrack for The Shining remains unused to this day and I have yet to hear it. If you have a link please share in the comments below) owned a Crumar General Development System, or GDS, that was released in 1980 and sold at that time for $30,000USD / $41,544 CAD or $114,300 USD / $158,271 CAD in today’s prices after adjusting for inflation . “
The GDS was used famously on the Tron soundtrack.[9] She was also one of the instrument’s most devoted users, and still uses it to this day.
Digital Keyboards Synergy
The GDS Leads to the Synergy
With microchip prices falling including the Z-80 and with further work on the same basic concept of the GDS (additive synthesis, a system microcomputer, programmable sound generators, and a number of different input devices) the lower-cost Synergy was released in 1981.[10] More affordable and more powerful computer chips meant that The Synergy was able to remove earlier expensive design parameters that would have required a separate stand alone computer component, and re-packaged the entire system into a case with a 77-key keyboard.
Due to it’s high price, the GDS did not sell well, allowing the Synergy to find some market share. However, when the famous Yamaha DX7 was released in 1983, it quickly took over the market. The DX7’s FM synthesis offered the same basic control over output sound as an additive synth, but could duplicate the effects of many ganged oscillators in as few as two.[11] Its $2,000 usd/ or around $7,000 usd in today’s money when adjusted for inflation. This price point eliminated any competition from the additive synths and production of the Synergy ended in 1985.
Mulogix Slave 32
A final version of the original Synergy machine was produced after Digital Keyboards was shut down in early 1985. More on this below. Digital Keyboards’ chief designer, Mercer “Stoney” Stockell, decamped and formed Mulogix with Jim Wright and Jerry Ptascynski. The Mulogix Slave 32 was a Synergy re-packaged into a 2U rack-mount module with a MIDI interface. The Slave 32 could read and write EPROM cartridges from the Synergy.[12]
Final Version
Later models of the Synergy, known as the Synergy II+, feature MIDI implementation, 24 user voice RAM, and an RS-232 computer port. This allowed support for Kaypro II portable computer systems running Synergy voicing software to open up the possibility to finally edit the sounds of the Synergy as well as to save patch and sequence data on to floppy disk. (via vintagesynth.com)
If you are searching for one of the most desirable synthesizers ever, fear not, because our friends at ToneTweakers just fully serviced a unit and it’s working great and its a desirable II+ model. Check out the video below to hear the preset sounds. For the Silo, Jarrod Barker.
Clive Smith – recording artist, composer, performer, sound designer
You might have heard him on the soundtrack for the ’80’s cult film Liquid Sky. You might have come across his name on a whole lot of session-work and collaborations. Clive Smith, often credited as the ’Fairlight Programmer’. And you can see him below on the legendary 1983 Sesame Street-episode, in which Herbie Hancock is demonstrating the Fairlight. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg…
Whether it is your typically structured mainstream music, or the more textured, experimental kind: Clive Smith morphs fluently between both realms. “I’ve always been interested in texture, as well as in structural music composition.” He started out as a trumpet player in high school, is a trained musician and has taught himself to play guitar, bass-guitar and keyboards. “Those sparked to me a lot more. The trumpet, it never really sat with me as well as the ’rock instruments’. But occasionally, I pick up the trumpet to keep my lips in shape, or to play it on some album. When I went to university, i took a multimedia-course, which was basically visual arts and sonic arts.
There was a VCS3, the ’Putney’, and I really fell in love with synths and the ability to create and craft your own sounds; to manipulate them. I was always interested in electronic sounds. Prior to the synths, I used tape. My father had an expensive tape recorder. I used to have lots of fun with it, recording all sorts of sounds, noises, trying to play it backwards.” He reckoned how John Lennon discovered that by accident. “I was very interested in those kind of things. “
Becoming the Fairlight expert
Clive came fresh out of college with a degree in musical composition. But… What to do next? ”One of my professors started this non profit organisation called Public Acces Synthesizer Studios. I started out as the associate director and later, I became director. In 1980, there was an Audio Engineering Society convention in New York City. There was this Australian company called Fairlight, showing this instrument; it was probably one of the first times it was shown in the US. Back then, it was just called the Fairlight CMI, for there were no Series II, IIx, etcetera yet. I was amazed by it. It took a little bit of doing, but the following year, we had one at PASS, on loan to us.
I fully immersed myself in it, trying to learn as much about it as I possibly could. The great thing was, there were no specific rules on how to use the instrument. I took lots of time sampling and creating my own sounds and I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that there weren’t any boundaries someone else already had defined. That was extremely satisfying. ”
“As soon as I learned everything about the Fairlight, this Russian director, Slava Tsukerman, came in at PASS, as he wanted to create the soundtrack of what later would become Liquid Sky. He realized he couldn’t operate this computer himself, so he initially hired Brenda Hutchinson, who started working on the project with him. She was called away for a job on the West coast. So I took over and did the remaining two third of the project. I think there were three or four different types of classical pieces that the director came to us with.’ They programmed that into the Fairlight. You might call that a hell of a job.
Clive: ‘It was very much like old-fashioned computer programming, using a code for every note, every change, like velocity or note durations.” At that time, there was only the Series 1. So, no easy peasy sequencing, using Page R, which was introduced into the Series II, in 1982. ”There were two types of recording. The first one was non-real time, using Musical Composition Language. The second method was called Page 9. It recorded in real time, but there were no visuals; you couldn’t really see what you were doing on the screen. When you made a mistake, you had to start all over again.”
Quick and dirty
“Slava isn’t a musician himself. But he did have musical ideas and a clear vision of what he had in mind for the soundtrack. He’d just tap a rhythm, or hum a melody, moving his arms in a particular way, saying: “I want this for that scene.” And I would just play around with some ideas. When there was something he liked he said: “OK, let’s record this.” We’d immediately be recording the ideas, right when they were fresh. Often, I wanted to do it again, for I thought it was too sloppy. I wanted to go back, perfecting it. But then he‘d say: “No, I like it. Let’s make it quick and dirty.” He liked the sort of clunkiness; the marriage between the computer high tech and the punk approach.
I had sampled lots of different percussive sounds. Some wooden, metal and glass wind chimes. I put them all together, and I think that’s what we ended up using for the creature sounds. They weren’t specifically made for the movie. I played it to Slava, he liked it. They fitted with his vision for the movie. So they ended up being part of the alien sounds.
Brenda had seen some of the footage. When I started working on it, I never saw any footage. So it was only his verbal description of things. So in a way, I wasn’t influenced at all by visuals. I was strictly translating what he was conveying to me. It wasn’t until the actual premiere that I saw how it all worked together. And it worked very well. Me and Brenda, we got the credits for composing, but it was his vision. He was coming across with moods. I only matched with what he was doing. And if he would have let me be alone with it, it would never have turned out that way.”
Rocking it on Sesame Street
Because of Liquid Sky, the US branche of the Fairlight company asked if he would work for them. He left PASS and became one of their consultants, from 1983 ’till about 1989. Clive: ”That was incredibly great. I had access to the equipment, I promoted their product doing demos, and I was doing session work on the side.” So, how did he end up with Herbie Hancock on Sesame Street? Clive: ”Alexander Williams, he did sort of what I was doing, on the West Coast. When Herbie Hancock purchased his Fairlight, he had Will training him on how to use the machine. When he wanted to capture his ideas, in a session, on the fly, Will was able to help him out with the technical side.
When Herbie visited the East Coast, I kind of did the same thing for him. Will and I knew each other, and it turned out Herbie and I had some mutual friends. So, that worked out nicely. I think, if I remember correctly, Herbie didn’t travel with his Fairlight, so he used mine for the Sesame Street-session. The show went pretty much as shown; the children were very excited about this new technology. Just like the kids are today. We didn’t do anything different. That clip was pretty much the entire take.
People were always very curious about it. And It’s very inviting; something that looked like a ‘60’s tv-screen, a bit of a retro sci-fi-look, a huge white keyboard, playing melodies with barking dogs… It looked accessible, more ‘friendly’ and less intimidating than a modular synth with patch chords, knobs and sliders.”
An early 1979 model Fairlight CMI.
“I’m really glad I got the opportunity to work with Herbie Hancock. Up until then, I never realised what an amazing musician he is. It was great to see the ideas running in his brain, coming out. Always, his first ideas were immediately great. Watching him listening to a musical piece he’d never heard before and then, coming up with this great keyboard part. Very enlightening to see. And he’s a very nice, very friendly down to earth kinda person.
You know, formally trained musicians often want to play tunes on a synth using their keyboard technique. Herbie, he was very open to coming up with interesting sounds, being Interested in things that had some internal movement on the things he was playing. I think, that’s what we have in common: having this split personality between being a trained musician, using structured forms, and being able to work with textures, creating sounds, the approach a non-musician might have. The more creative approach by just going in and thinking: ’What would i like to happen?’.
Big bam boom
In 1984, I bought my own IIx; that’s when the session work really took off. In ‘86, the series III was released and I was able to purchase one fairly early in its existence. There are certain things that are unique to the IIx, but I could do so much more on the III. It expanded on the things I wanted to do. I started using them both.” And so, he was moving around New York, carrying around two fairly heavy machines. ”I was doing a lot of session work in New York, mostly in the avant-garde music scene. I was either playing in progressive rock bands, avant-garde rock bands or free jazz and noise bands. And all of a sudden, I was called in to do sessions with very mainstream artists. There was this buzz going ‘round about the Fairlight. People were looking for that extra spice to add to their music. So, I was hired to make a few noises on the track.” Laughing: ”It felt a bit like being the odd one out.”
In 1984, he was asked to work on the Hall & Oates-record Big Bam Boom. “They were listening a lot to Sgt. Pepper’s. They wanted to take a different approach. They didn’t want to emulate The Beatles, but it was the whole idea that they needed to break out of their old approach and treat the studio in a different way, instead of archiving and capturing what they did playing live. That was essentially what it was. That’s why they brought in the Fairlight. They didn’t know exactly what it did, or what they thought it would do. But they might have thought it could be the ingredient pushing them into a new era. Of course, they did the pop music that they were known for, but in a slightly different way and I think it was successful. Their new approach did work out for them.”
“They didn’t have all the songs written yet; just some words, some of the choruses were done. A lot of things were formed in the studio. The way I worked with them was a little unorthodox. Next to the control room, in the Electric Ladyland studios, there’s the vocal booth. They took the door off that separated the booth from the control room. And they’d have me set up with the Fairlight and some speakers, letting me hear the same play-back the producer, Bob Clearmountain, was hearing.
They had me playing along with the music and every now and then they’d listen to what was coming out on my channel; what I was coming up with. When they liked it, they decided to put that on the record. I’d put something in, or Robbie Kilgore, the other keyboard player they hired. That’s how we worked for about three months. It was done very professionally, almost like a regular nine-to-five job. At 10 am, we’d come in, we’d have a short lunch break, and around 6 pm we were usually out of there. No drinking or drugs were allowed in the studio; they were very disciplined, especially Daryl. It was a very instructive experience and it got me a lot of jobs at sessions. It was a great opportunity.“
Programmer? Keyboard player?
On album credits, guys like Clive were often referred to as ’Fairlight programmer’. Which makes you think: didn’t he play some decent notes at all on all these records? Clive: “They didn’t know what to make of it, so they called it Programmer. Which was fine with me. The lesser known music I worked on was where I got to play more. On some of those, I even play the guitar. People brought me in as the Fairlight programmer, but then they learned I play keyboards and guitar as well. So often, they’d ask: ’Oh, you play guitar? Bring yours tomorrow!’ and they’d let me lay down a couple of tracks as well.
Right before the final days of the series III had arrived, before the original Fairlight company went down, I had a midi guitar. I used to bring it to sessions, so I could play the Fairlight from the midi guitar. That was great, because I was able to do things I couldn’t do on the regular keyboard. Especially when it comes to bending pitches in a particular way; that sort of thing. Each string could have a different sound to it. So with the midi guitar, in a way, you had six keyboards with different sounds attached to each string. Sometimes you ended up with some very wonderful things. I’ve used that on the more obscure records, because people were more open to try different things than they were on mainstream recordings.”
Shaping and creating
Over the past few years, Clive has worked on many, many projects, providing music, or musical textures for a dozen tv-shows, doing session work, being a sound designer for Korg… And today, he’s working on a variety of interesting collaborations. ”There’s always something going on.vAt the moment, I’m doing sounds for PARMA. They approached me, because they liked a particular piece I’ve made in the past. So they asked if I had any more material like that. I’m actually working on that at the moment. I’ve finished about 25 minutes of music for it. And it will probably be 50 minutes, so I’m halfway through.
It’s fairly textural material, but tonal at the same time. Recently, I’ve become very interested in this composer Arvo Pärt who’s been around for a long time, but I became familiar with his work just recently. Some of the things I was touching on are similar to what he’s been doing for years. It inspired me to go further down this particular path. It almost felt as if we were aligned in some way. So, that’s the direction this particular suite of pieces is going to.’
“I’ve always been interested in texture. There is something about texture in the visual realm as well as in the sonic realm that I love. Getting inside of a sound, reconstructing it. With the textured soundscapes, I feel it’s communicating more directly with your subconscious. That’s the impact of art and music combining. It reaches you in ways that are difficult to articulate. it’s just… telling you a specific story.”
One of the other things he’s been working on, is archiving some of his older Works. “I recently uncovered some recordings from the early days of the Fairlight, and I also recovered some old tapes. I’m trying to transfer them into ProTools, before I lose acces to it, not being able to play these things back. I discovered some unfinished things that I made. I might revisit them. I work on those things which strike me the most at that time, in between the session work I do.”
There’s no time like the present
Of course, there’s just one question left: does he still use his Fairlights? Clive: ”Unfortunately, my Series III is not completely operational right now. But I will probably be able to use it again very soon. My IIx on the other hand is completely functional. That is, everything except for the light pen. But, I don’t really need the light pen anyway.
Even today, when I purchase new hardware or software, it always comes down to: does it excite and inspire me in some way? Just because it’s new doesn’t mean it’s great. It has to surprise me. But, the other way around: I do have some vintage guitars and I like them. Not because they’re vintage, it’s because I have built a relationship with them over time.
I don’t want to be locked into a specific time-period. So, to me, it’s not about a specific age or about nostalgia. Having said that: the Fairlight grabbed me in a way that no other instrument did before that. And I do still love them.”
SPOTLIGHT: The Casio SK series keyboards, carries great nostalgia for many of us who grew up in the 80s and 90s.
My friend got one for his birthday, and after spending an entire day at his place sampling burps, coughs and farts, I knew I was destined to become an electronic musician. If this is your story too- let us know below in the comments section.
The SK line’s distinctive design and sound evoke memories of early bedroom-made electronic music and hip-hop production, making it a sought-after collector’s item. The SK sound quality is characterized by its lo-fi charm. Everything sampled into it sounds like crap, but in a good way!
There’s a thriving community of musicians and collectors who appreciate the SK-2 , SK-5, SK-8 et al for their historical significance and cultural impact.
Used prominently on my 2008 release of AUDIOCOSM by Jarrod Barker, the SK-8 was used as a sampling beat box and also one or two of its famous presets were used in a loop to create swirling matrices of sound on a number of tracks. I found this keyboard in a thrift store in 2007 buried in the children’s electronic toys. It was $2.99 CAD and even had the battery cover. This fortuitous discovery was the spark that led to the writing and recording (on a boat no less!) of AUDIOCOSM.
The rare white version of the SK-10.
At their absolute basic, the SK line are fun keyboards and a great introduction tool to lo-fi sampling. But there is much more.
After recording a short audio sample (recorded either via the built in monophonic microphone or by plugging in an audio source using the 1/8″ female jack) you can choose from various envelopes (settings that affect how the sound starts, how long it sounds and how it ends) and also select whether to reverse or loop samples. These toy synthesizers are a treat when connected via guitar effects pedals. A good outboard effect can transform these keyboards into something much more powerful and believable. If that isn’t enough you can explore the factory preset sounds some of which sound more realistic than others but all have usefulness in the correct setting.
Most SK’s have a decent enough piano, vibraphone, flute, trumpet and clarinet sounds. There are also built-in speakers that are loud enough for mobile use such as camping or beach hang outs and of course the SK’s run on batteries. They also have line out feature which bypasses the onboard speakers allowing you to record them into your favorite DAW or standalone recording machine….an analog 4 track is a great bedfellow.
The Mod community and the SK (circuit bending)
Due to it’s relative affordability (used prices have continued to rise in the past 10 years) the SK series of keyboards have been embraced by electronic musician modifiers. Their basic construction and ease of internal access makes modifying them a lot of fun. The creativity of modders seems to be endless- everything from MIDI control to individual audio outputs to real time control of sound chips using dip switches or rotary controls.
Join that thriving community by buying this one from our friend at Tone Tweakers today! For the Silo, Jarrod Barker.
A few years back, I posted the “I Found a… Pipe” blogpost – an attempt to initiate a series of found object accounts; exploring the dynamics of curiosity, the chance encounters, the chains of association, the pratfalls and prat-uplifts that may accompany such discoveries.
One of the persistent themes is the idea that electronic-equivalents of sound-making processes can be found for free in the physical world – an ideal driven by poverty and its resultant anti-capitalism, and accompanying skepticism towards commercial electronic hardware flavours-of-the-months. Whereas the “pipe of 2018” had limited sound-making value, this new blogpost examines the musical scales obtainable from multi-holed hollow flints, found during pandemic walkabouts.
I’ve been traipsing around fields.
The flint-rich geology of the locale boasts rocks with hollow cavities – channels left by decayed ancient sea sponges. These hollow flints are difficult to spot, as their holes are usually clogged with mud. After some cleaning with water and bell-wire, the cavities can be cleared, creating almost ocarina-like ‘instruments’. So far, a number of different flints have been found with interlinked channels, each offering unique microtonal musical scales.
These stones, each with their own in-built set of pitches formed 500 million years ago, are good grist for the arbitrary tuning mill.
Why is arbitrary tuning important? I consider it a topic all-too-frequently dismissed. For those who enjoy the divergent aspects of differently-tuned music, or wish to escape the ubiquity of the equal tempered musical scale, it may be surprising that microtonal/xenharmonic music offers very little refuge – it is here that just intonation and “pure” harmonic mathematical dogmatism supplants one tyranny with another. I exaggerate here a bit, but it’s fair to say that random/arbitrary musical scales are generally viewed as unsophisticated in microtonal music circles.
https://twitter.com/i/status/1273936272562753536
A few years ago I tried to establish a historical basis for ‘intuitively selected tuning systems’ in my Radionics Radio project (on Sub Rosa records), but drawing upon a fringe science – no matter how artistically groundbreaking those acoustic-radionic activities were in the late 1940s – didn’t convince many (radionics involves ‘psychically’ selecting frequencies that correspond to thoughts).
Random tunings offer complete freedom, and reveal the idiosyncrasies of the instruments used, as well as the identities of soundmakers. I would go as far to politicise it: arbitrary tuning is perhaps the ultimate musical ‘decolonisation’ whilst also being a practical and philosophical ideal for microtonal music’s LGBTQ+ lineage that embraces such varied personalities as Kathleen Schlesinger, Elsie Hamilton, to Harry Partch and Wendy Carlos – a lineage rarely-discussed, but deeply rooted, I believe, in the opposition to the norms of western equal temperament (and the contra-norms of just intonation and equal divisions of the octave).
The hollow flint… containing a scale.
Hollow flints found in fields speak of the primacy of arbitrary tunings: random, fully individuated tunings literally set in stone.
My favourite is a handheld flint with five channels. Unlike the specially-lipped ocarina, hollow flints cannot produce pure tones when blown into, unless a sharp ‘labium tip’ is expertly chiselled into it somehow (a feature of all fipple flutes). This isn’t necessarily a problem – for instance, sound artist Akio Suzuki has been playing upon unrefined natural stones for decades, eliciting exploratory pitched noise: half-tonal, half-percussive, and sensitively done. Covering the holes on the flint while blowing does produce vague pitches, but too broad to measure precisely.
Kathleen Schlesinger, in her 1939 deep-study of ancient greek auloi (reeded wind instruments dug up from historical sites) and their possible scales remarked that “it is impossible to determine the pitch, scale, or modality of any pipe that lacks a mouthpiece which will play it”.
These rocks are not instruments, and it is indeed tricky treating them as such: even if a fipple mouthpiece (from a wind recorder, for instance) is introduced to the rock (which I did), the pitch of the notes varies due to its player’s breath pressure: the more open holes there are, the more breath pressure is required to produce a tone – and the natural reflex action is to supply more breath pressure, an action so unconscious that it almost feels as if the rock becomes an extension of the body. Try it yourself.
It is possible to connect a small lapel microphone to a loudspeaker amplifier, and place the microphone inside the flint to hear feedback. The feedback pitch is relative to the cavity, and alters according to the fingering of the cavities. I did a brief experiment with this on camera, and posted it to Facebook to advertise the episode of Wavelength on Resonance FM where I describe these experiments.
On the internet, there’s always either a miserable don’t-know-who, or a know-it-all nonsenseclown poised to blurt.
If they’re remotely connected to creative doings, it tends to spur on the mission to legitimise arbitrary scales. On this occasion, one such character (I can’t discern which) emerged from the woodwork to advertise their obliviousness to these experiments’ contexts: “eh, this is like sticking a piezo transducer in anything. Ok; weird, somewhat regulated noise. ‘Man farting in field’ has been Lucier’d to death.”
Maybe this person is rightfully irate to some extent: the volume required to obtain the pitches of the flint cavity is horrendous on the ear. To record it, one rainy afternoon I walked to the field where the flint originated, specifically to avoid remonstrations. Alvin Lucier used compressors to limit the volume of his object-based feedback. This feedback technique actually pre-dates Lucier’s work by eight decades – the feedback flute was proposed by Alfred Graham, patented in 1894 – a failed history I’ve excavated and written about in ‘Magnetic Music…‘ and ‘Failed Histories of Electronic Music‘, and recreated as a working model. Graham recognised the many variables affecting the flute’s pitch, such as battery power, the shape and construct of the loudspeaker and microphone, and their relative positions.
Nevertheless, the feedback flint, if held stable enough, is a fairly accurate approximation of the pitch intervals obtainable. By comparing the feedback-generated intervals with the intervals obtained with an attached fipple, and also with the vague windy tones created when blowing, mean averages can be obtained.
Alfred Graham’s feedback flute, 1894.
With the lowest note registering as 669Hz, the ratios are calculable as 1/1, 737/669, 775/669, 263/223, 269/223 and 828/669 (giving an ascending 167.590, 254.628, 285.622, 324.674, 369.149 in cents).
What can be done with these notes?
Well, the scale of this handheld flint encompasses less than four semitones (3.69, to be exact), which is a restrictive set of notes, but frequent exposure to the notes acclimatises the ear to soundmaking/melodic possibilities. This is something noted by the composer Susan Alexjander who derived scales from DNA bases. DNA bases’ tunings might as well be arbitrary, such is the inharmonic chaos – they seemed “so strange and alien that one at first despairs of ever creating a beautiful work of art, or making any coherent ‘sense’ out of them”, according to Alexjander. By constant exposure to the new scales “played over and over on the synthesiser, some arrestingly beautiful combinations began to appear”… so when dealing with such disorientating scales, perseverance is key! For the Silo, Dan Wilsen.
More can be heard on Wavelength, broadcast on Resonance 104.4FM on 19th June 2020. “A programme of multiple agendas presented by William English. This week: a tape sync with Oscillatorial Binnage member Daniel Wilson who, prevented from bin-diving during the Covid-19 epidemic, instead turns to “ground-diving” to dig out unusual stones from the earth. The potential for producing ‘rock music’ is showcased after a lengthy preliminary chat with William on the current state of the second-hand book trade.”
Coming to Kickstarter April 18th. Meet the designers, makers, musicians and their instruments and learn how they have shaped the world of electronic music. Richly illustrated with a unique collection of sketches, photos and graphics and with a foreword by electronic music visionary Jean-Michel Jarre.
The book’s essence is to celebrate innovative interface designs, provide a categorization of gear and explore the functional, artistic, philosophical and aesthetic world of user interfaces in the context of making and performing of electronic music.
Featuring exclusive interviews with: Roger Linn, Dave Smith, Keith McMillen, Richard Devine, Suzanne Ciani, Olivier Gillet, Ean Golden, Brian Crabtree, Matt Moldover, Axel Hartmann, Dorit Chrysler, DiViNCi, Skinnerbox, Native Instruments, Ableton, Teenage Engineering, Roland, Elektron and many more.
A wide range of landmark pieces of equipment is featured along with chapters on design principles, interface elements, visualization of sound and instrument and controller concepts such as grids, touch and modular. PUSH TURN MOVE is the very first of its kind in both scope and depth. Please sign up on www.pushturnmove.com or follow along on http://fb.me/pushturnmove/
PUSH TURN MOVE is written by friend of The Silo- Danish designer, author and electronic musician Kim Bjørn and edited by Mike Metlay, editor at Recording Magazine and Paul Nagle, reviewer at Sound on Sound Magazine.
For as long as I can recall, I’ve wanted to write original music, never being a fan of jumping into a covers band and playing someone else’s music. I never understood why anyone would want to, apart from maybe doing a remake or remixing a song. I’ve done a few stints, and have friends currently in covers bands… fantastic players and performers.. and I respect that…. but it’s just not for me. Usually I find that the instruments themselves are the drivers that motivate and provide me with the inspiration for ideas that might eventually become songs on an album. That’s even more relevant now with all the choices one has in electronic instruments, VSTs, DAWS, etc.
Voice Industrie Founder Alain Levesque
Years ago, electronic instruments were far less intuitive and user friendly, but we managed to squeeze every ounce of functionality they offered to break new ground and explore things not otherwise possible on acoustic instruments. With Voice Industrie, I write and produce all the songs, mostly because I know what I’m after, and to a lesser extent because nobody has ever offered to co-write a VI track. I’m not entirely sure how that translates in the grand scheme of things lol…. But here we are six albums into it since 1992.
My name is Alain Levesque and I am primarily a self-taught drummer who “learned his chops” by playing along to Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis and King Crimson records many years ago. Suffice it to say Bill Bruford quickly became my idol and mentor. I loved how he approached drumming then and right up until the day he retired. I was determined to form or find a prog band to play with until Gary Numan came along and then things changed. I became fascinated with synthesizers and electronic music and began producing crude experimental electronic works in addition to maintaining my role as a drummer/songwriter for a prog trio we named Roboxis. Fast forward to 1992 after a few short-lived projects and solo outings, and the formation of Voice Industrie, which included 2 drummers on electronic pads and 2 keyboardists armed with what resembled an entire music store’s synth department.
Back then “VI” performed live only about 4 times a year, including some very memorable outings with 2Unlimited, KMFDM, Cassandra Complex, Assemblage23, SNFU and many other very good established or upcoming bands. Today, VI consists of a trio that includes a full time drummer on a Simmons SD2000, a keyboardist and myself on Simmons and Nord pads, Keyboards and vocals. We recently held the “Dreams Of Flight” album release in Edmonton and Calgary. While VI has ventured south to the USA, we have yet to travel overseas. Maybe next year?
The Technology We Use And Embrace
In the early days I owned a Star instruments “Synare3” pad and was happy messing about with that, until the Simmons SDSV electronic drums arrived in 1984 everything really opened up. I was able to play melodies on those pads with sticks in hand while holding down the kick/snare back beat with my feet. I could contribute melodies and play harmonies to guitar or keyboard lines. Great fun, until the draw of commercially viable music lured away my mates, and thus Roboxis was to be no more. I continued to acquire synths and Simmons gear as it came available, making the task of creating music from a drummer’s perspective somewhat less difficult, and ultimately managed a decent studio filled with electronic drums, racked modules and keyboard gear.
Voice Industrie Simmons SD2000 electronic drumset
Through the years the equipment roster has undergone changes and upgrades, but with much of the now vintage gear still serving my needs. The first two VI albums were written on and recorded directly off an Ensoniq ESQ-1 and Ensoniq EPS. A change to Cakewalk DOS (!!) was made at album #4, and I have used a number of DAWs [Digital audio workstations commonly known as ‘recording on a computer or laptop using a software program CP] until really finding my groove with FL Studio and Cubase.
I have a few “go to” VSTs but still draw on sounds generated by vintage outboard gear such as the Simmons SDS7, SDE, MTM, Korg Wavestation, Ensoniq VFX-SD and others for inspiration. I quite enjoy randomly layering multiple instruments with MIDI to see what ensues, like playing the Nord Drum2 and Simmons SD2000 MIDI’d to a VST or Virus TI. I am never quite sure what will ensue. For the past few albums, I have forced myself to toss away familiarity when writing. Only by subjecting oneself to discomfort and unfamiliar territory will one experience unexpected results. This couldn’t be more true with the latest album, where a lot of it emerged from accidents and bending the rules lol. I love that!
I then entered the working world and forgot all about making music. Fast forward 30+ years, and the itch to make experimental music overtook me again, but now technology had changed drastically. I no longer needed hardware. I discovered apps on my iPhone, and music platforms like SoundCloud and Bandcamp were all that I needed. I was immediately obsessed.
I yearned to use hardware/instruments again, but not being able to play an instrument is a definite hindrance 🙂 I searched for cheap keyboards on the net. I soon discovered the “Stylophone” and ordered one ‘sight unseen’. It was unique, inexpensive and fun, but quite limited in sound variety. I started mixing the Stylophone with app produced sounds/music, as well as other “found sounds”. (I really appreciate the functionality of software based mixing apps, which are almost essential to my creations these days). I then stumbled upon a couple of user videos of the Hyve synthesizer, and knew I had to have it. It was clearly non-musician friendly (and looked so different, cool and fun).
Then came the disappointment … You can’t buy one! (BUT I HAD TO HAVE ONE!!!) Turns out, the engineer/designer guru behind this awesome device (Skot Wiedmann), has work shops in the Chicago area, and you can go build your own, ( very inexpensively ). I knew what I had to do. I looked at a map, saw that Chicago was about 8 hours away, and realized that I had to go build it. I started to plan the trip. I knew that a fellow SoundCloud musician and Facebook friend (Leslie Rollins) lived in Berrien Springs, Michigan, about 2 hours outside of Chicago.
This presented a twofold opportunity. I could hopefully, meet Leslie face to face, and hopefully have a place to spend the night. I contacted Les and everything was A-OK! I purchased a ticket to build my Hyve, and started to plan my road trip. The workshop was going to be from Noon to 3pm, Saturday Sept.24 in a cool space called Lost Arts in Chicago.
I had the whole week off from work, because I was overseeing a contractor doing extensive yard work at my house all week, and I was hoping to leave Friday so as to arrive at Leslie’s place in the late afternoon or early evening, spend the night, and leave for the workshop Saturday morning. Alas, plans rarely work as hoped.
The contractor wasn’t finished until Friday afternoon, and Les wasn’t getting home from a business trip until late Friday night. New plan! Early to bed Friday. Early to rise Saturday (2:30 am), and depart for Leslie’s place in Michigan. It was an easy drive, and I got to Berrien Springs (a beautiful sleepy little university village) around 8:30 am. Met Leslie, and got to trade stories over a great breakfast in a local cafe. Then, I quickly admired Leslie’s impressive modular synth racks at his home studio “Convolution Atelier” and then left for “Lost Arts” in Chicago.
Lost Arts is located in a cool old industrial complex. The workshop provided everyone with a surface mount board with the touchpad on one side, and components layout on the back. A sheet listing components and placement was also handed out, along with tiny plastic tweezers. Everyone then had their component side “pasted” with a solder paste applied through a pierced template, in a process similar to silk screening. Everyone then started to receive their very tiny components from the parts list. Following the placement locations, the components (chips, capacitors, resistors, etc) were set into their pasted areas with the tweezers (magnification and extra lighting was a must). Once all the components were placed, they were carefully “soldered” into place by simply holding a heat gun over each component until the solder on the board had adhered it. Once this was done, everyone had their 9v battery and line-out jacks hand soldered into place by Skot , and then … the moment of truth, Skot tested each one for proper operation.
It was a fascinating process and great experience. I met a lot of cool people at the workshop, both builders and staff/helpers! I can’t say enough what a fantastic experience this was, and what an awesome, diverse and versatile device the Hyve is. I doubted my sanity when planning this trip, but it turned out to be very rewarding!
Leslie and I then went back to Michigan, stopped at a local brewery in Berrien Springs (Cultivate) and sampled a few of their excellent brews, and then proceeded to Convolution Atelier to play with Leslie’s modular system. (I’m a newbie to all things modular, and I received a great crash course from Leslie on his very cool array!) Then it was out to dinner with Leslie and his wonderful wife Lisa, and finally back to their house where I stayed for the night, and finally hit the road towards home the next morning. It truly was a great adventure! For the Silo, Mike Fuchs.
I yearned to use hardware/instruments again, but not being able to play an instrument is a definite hindrance 🙂 I searched for cheap keyboards on the net. I soon discovered the “Stylophone” and ordered one ‘sight unseen’. It was unique, inexpensive and fun, but quite limited in sound variety. I started mixing the Stylophone with app produced sounds/music, as well as other “found sounds”. (I really appreciate the functionality of software based mixing apps, which are almost essential to my creations these days). I then stumbled upon a couple of user videos of 
This presented a twofold opportunity. I could hopefully, meet Leslie face to face, and hopefully have a place to spend the night. I contacted Les and everything was A-OK! I purchased a ticket to build my Hyve, and started to plan my road trip. The workshop was going to be from Noon to 3pm, Saturday Sept.24 in a cool space called