I came across ANOTHER cache of old synthesizers...

My 'Barn Fresh' SY85

So, about 10 years ago, family life got in the way of making music and I dismantled my set up and put it into storage. As the children grew money became tight and I sold off a good chunk of my gear about 6 years ago. I didn't think too much about the situation at the time and didn't lament the loss.

Just before we moved house a couple of years later, I noticed my remaining gear had suffered whilst unattended and had developed various faults. My old Yamaha SY85 seemed to have suffered especially badly with a flat battery, a broken floppy (not a surprise) and the case was cracked at one end. On the day before we moved I was going to put it in the car to take to the rubbish dump, but the removal men had picked it up and packed it already. Thus the SY85 had a stay of execution and 'accidental' moved house. The broken keyboard lay forgotten in the garage for a few more years...until lockdown started.

Bored one day I began tidying the garage and came across the dead, smashed up SY85. On opening up the beast I remembered it had a rather splendid SYEMB06 memory unit from Sector101.co.uk and it might be worth a closer look. Having hacked through a few forum posts and a YouTube video or two I decided I'd have a go at resurrecting it.

My nemesis: "Disk Not Ready !"

So far I've replaced the battery with the usual battery holder swap out and, after a bit of tinkering, I managed to reinstate all of the presents via a SYSEX dump. Hearing those present sounds again was magic! I've fixed up the case so it is solid and given it a really good clean.

Unfortunately, despite a new belt the floppy seems toast (how I hate seeing the "Disk Not Ready !" error message). No amount of cleaning seems to help breathe life into it. Will look into some replacement disk options as I have also found a pile of old disks without labels that might contain treasure. I also have some official Yamaha sound bank disks that I seem to remember were quite useful. Having said that, I am sure I could read the disks in my PC and dump them in as SYSEX, but that's missing the point.  I want the vintage experience (complete with compromises and annoyances). I don't want to install an emulator but am weighing up options regarding replacement floppies.

Presets restored via a SYSEX dump

Currently thinking that I will invest in another non-volatile memory module (*checks Sector101 still going* yes! phew) and some additional RAM. I'm not going to fully pimp this board out, but simply expand it so it can hold its head high once again.

Just so happy to hear the old board going again and looking forward to using it to make some music for the first time in 10 years.

I came across a cahe of old synthesisers...

In these turbulent times it is unsurprising that some of us seek solace in the familiar. For me this has manifested itself in digging out some of my old gear. With lockdown in force, I found myself with time on my hands and a desire to create some music again. There are piles of old digital synthesizers and keyboards scattered around the house; all of which are just collecting dust and going to waste. Some sort of Pavlovian response kicked in last week and I dug out my old master keyboard and plugged in some headphones.

When I fired up the enormous (and very heavy) Roland Fantom X8 it was in fully working order and didn't appear to have suffered during its 6 years in storage. My hands soon fell upon a 1 Gig flash memory card and some old sample CDs. "Well it would be rude not to give it a try," thought I. A few minutes later I had cobbled together a 8 bar loop and begun editing it on the on-board sequencer. I carried on tinkering like this for a few days until things suddenly escalated.

When you have become accustomed to sequencing via a DAW using a workstation is very frustrating. That is not to say the Fantom sequencer isn't capable, but it demands a greater ability to perform than I posses. I am much more of a programmer than a performer. I prefer to bash in a part and then tweak it in an editor. I have been known to step edit as much as play and the fully weighted keyboard on the Fantom, which is completely wasted on me. Consequently, I began to yearn for the power of Cubase and the ability to edit patches on my PC using the Fantom patch utility. 

However, the last time I tried the Fantom with Windows 10 the drivers didn't work and I didn't have time to sort it out. In fact the whole thing was such a mess I just assumed my 'vintage' gear was just too old to cut the mustard with modern computers and packed it all away.

That was 6 years ago and in the interim people have managed to get their old Fantom keyboards running with Windows 10. These kind people have also made all of the resources and instructions needed to do this available on the web. With a bit of determination I was even able to get everything working on a laptop which has no dedicated soundcard. Using Cubase again after all these years was a great experience. My hands instinctively found their way to the keyboard shortcuts and the ease of navigation was a joy to behold after the frustration of the Fantom's onboard sequencer. I am only using MIDI to trigger the Fantom as a ROMpler (with a few samples thrown in) but its surprisingly easy to get a half decent sounding track up and running with just one instrument (albeit one with thousands of onboard sounds). It reminds me of my school days using an Atari ST, Pro-24 and a Roland D-10: such limited possibilities seemed to drive creativity.

I have since added a foot pedal to the set up as, whilst the weighted keyboard is wasted on me, my wife is a 'proper' pianist (i.e. she can actually play the instrument to grade 8 level). The headphones have been replaced by some powered speakers and I have even plumped for a coaxial digital signal to ensure that all of my half finished 4 bar loops and noodling is crystal clear.

But I do get the feeling that the longer the current situation continues, the more likely I am to get some more gear up and running. Maybe I will even finish a track one day.

No hot spot in Hotspot

Before I start this review, I feel the need to say how pleased I am that Neil and Chris continue to release new music. I am genuinely exited by the prospect of a new album and haven't reached the jaded and cynical state that some find themselves when confronted with a Pet Shop Boys album in 2020.

So where does this new year find the boys? Well, my fist impression was, terrible title and terrible artwork but the music is so, so. It's neither the toe curling dirge of "Release" nor the zenith of "Introspective" or "Behaviour"; its a perfectly inoffensive vanilla album.

Ironically there is no hot spot in the track list; it's consistently middling in both production and songwriting quality. "Willow-the-wisp" is that brooding four on the floor track that Neil and Chris do so well and sets the album up brilliantly. They then follow up with "You are the one" which sounds like the bastard child of "Winner" and "The Only One". Placing a track like this at number two completely robs the album of the promise of the introduction and clears the metaphorical dance floor. "Happy People" tries vainly to revive the dance vibes but TR-909 snares in 2020? Really?

"I don't wanna" is one of those octave bassline 80's tracks that wafts in and out without making much impression. "Hoping for a miracle" sounds like a Diane Warren cast off - but one the boys actually wrote this time rather than paying a small fortune for it. The singles "Dreamland" and "Monkey Business" are confident and well executed. I can image Chris smiling wryly at the thought of "Monkey Business" (check out the video if you can). "Only In The Dark" sounds like it was made from the same recipe book that The Human League used to use  - and that isn't a bad thing.

What is bad is "Burning the Heather". When it comes on I break out into cold sweats thinking its 2002 and "Release" is coming back to get me. Then we reach the most contentious moment on the album, the coup de grâce: "Wedding In Berlin". Personally, I quite like it. Some of the descriptions I read before I heard it made me worried. Very worried. Dance beats with cheesy lyrics, all topped off with blasts of Mendelssohn's "Wedding March"? But in my opinion the quality of the groove means that it just about succeeds. 

But to be honest, a lot of these tracks are only just getting over the quality threshold. What makes some song choices seem even more bizarre is that "An Open Mind" and "Decide" were thrown away as extra tracks on singles (I can't say b-sides anymore). I would argue that "An Open Mind" is better than ANYTHING on the album and other recent tracks such as "No Boundaries" would have been preferable to "Hoping for a miracle". But instead of bitching, I am just going to be thankful that Neil and Chris are still releasing music of such terrific quality "An Open Mind" and I won't quibble if I receive it via an album or an extra track on a single. 6/10

Snap, Crackle, Pop

I'm sure I've said it before, but it's worth repeating that all vinyl is not created equal. I used to assume that the 12" singles I bought in the 80's and 90's sounded poor because my turntable was rubbish and I didn't look after my vinyl very well. Well it turns out that is only partly true.

One particular 'slab of wax' that frustrated me was the remix 12" of "Inside Out" by Electribe 101. My copy crackled and popped as if it had been covered with iron filings and scratched with a nail. Right from brand new this vinyl just wouldn't play properly. It was a real shame as the MCM Remix was one of the best remixes of any Electribe 101 track and, in truth, was probably one of the best things the band ever released. Yet all I had was a rubbish 12" that was barely listenable.

Fast forward 20 years and I buy another copy from Discogs in an attempt to do justice to the music. When the single turned up I lay it reverentially on the platter, dropped the needle and lo and behold, exactly the same 'scratches' all over the first track. Whoever mastered this 12" obviously never listened back to it and I can only assume neither did the band.

Having recorded the vinyl into my PC I attempted to repair the audio and make a good master of the MCM Mix. Once done I might finally get to hear it in something approaching its full glory. Yet the audio was so mashed, I gave up editing despite having put quite a few hours into the attempt. Over the years I keep loading up the Audacity file and tinker around removing huge sratches and  'repairing' sections of audio. But the task remains so mammoth I am losing faith that I will ever hear the MCM mix without the offending clicks.

Watch out

I have liked Nine Inch Nails ever since I heard "Sin" in a record shop sometime in 1991. I've bought everything Trent et al have released and been to see them in concert. Whilst I love NIN, I am less enamoured with side projects such as How To Destroy Angels or their soundtrack work. As a consequence, when I heard that Trent and Atticus were recording the score for an HBO series of Watchmen my primary response was: "Meh".

Then one night, the Youtube algorithms did their thing and recommended I listen to the new Watchmen soundtrack. Five seconds after clinking play I was scouring the Internet looking for a place to order the vinyl and apologising to Trent for ever doubting him under my breath.

Once the TV series started, I watched it to hear more of the music. Before I knew it I was actually enjoying a geeky series about superheroes. That's quite an achievement as I hate superhero stuff usually.

Anyway, fast forward to the day the vinyl arrives. I ignore all of the weird 'in universe' artwork and nonsense and pull out the slab of wax. The first thing that I notice are a few hairline scratches on this new vinyl. "Maybe it was a trick of the light," I say to myself. Then I queue up the record and drop the needle. OK a couple of pops, I can handle that, static and dust from a new LP is not uncommon. But the clicks and pops keep coming. I begin to ponder if it's noise added intentionally. I stop the turntable to have another look at the record more closely.

WTF?.....

This brand new vinyl, straight out of the cellophane, looks like a dogs dinner. I try the other side and it's just as bad. I soon deduced that there is nothing wrong with the mastering or the lacquer used for the pressing; it just looks like it has been handled badly during the manufacturing process. It is covered in scratches.

I decided to go online to find out what is happening. Having ignored the troll telling me I need a better turntable and speakers as there is nothing wrong with his copy (guess my amp must be OK - even though the cretin has no idea of what I'm using) I realise I am not alone in receiving a crappy vinyl; some people even have fingerprints accompanying their scratches. Luckily the NIN fulfilment guys are exchanging my copy. Let's hope its second time lucky for Sons of Pale Horse. So if you're listening to your copy of the Watchemn soundtrack thinking, "When did my turntable turn into a Crosley suitcase?" I can assure you that you are not alone.

Me, double sleeves and Domino Dancing: a troubled relationship

I am a collector of Pet Shop Boys records. I am not in the 'A league' of people who spend thousands on one item (the most I have ever spent was £500 on the Electricity box set), but I have found some rarities over the years. At the last count I owned around 700 items across a variety of formats with a focus on UK releases and the more unique or interesting imports. However, one single release seems harder for me to find than most. Step forward "Domino Dancing" and its 'double sleeve' variants.

Back in the 80's, record companies and artists tried various marketing techniques to boost the chart position of their records. Between 1987 and 1989 Pet Shop Boys and their label Parlophone elected to issue their 7" and 12" singles with a variety of sleeves: exactly the same record, just a different cover. Lets not be coy, this was a cynical attempt to lure people into buying the same record twice.

For a period, these sleeves took the form of double and single types - the standard "R" catalogue number denoted the single sleeve version and the "RS" catalogue number was used to identify the double sleeve.

I never seemed to have much trouble acquiring the "RS" versions of singles such as "Left To My Own Devices" (in fact I never saw the single sleeve 12" on sale in 1988), "It's a Sin" or "Always On My Mind", but the "Domino Dancing" double sleeves continue to give me trouble to this very day.

It all started in around 2003 when I took the plunge and joined eBay. I began stepping up my attempts to fill holes in my Pet Shop Boys collection and soon won a copy of the "RS" version of the "Domino Dancing" 12". How pleased I was! Until I missed the delivery and the parcel was returned to the mail centre. A few days later I rolled up at said mail centre to be told the parcel was 'lost': "The postman remembers bringing it into the office but we can't find it." It wasn't just the fact that they had lost my parcel that caused me to become annoyed, it was the total indifference of the Royal Mail staff that really got to me. They couldn't give a toss about me or my stupid parcel. F**k you Royal Mail.

Undeterred I tried to buy another "RS" 12" over the proceeding months and finally won a copy that the Royal Mail managed not to damage or lose. The trouble with this copy was the fabled 'double sleeve' had a variety of non-peelable stickers firmly attached to it. At some point someone had clearly attempted to remove the stickers causing irreparable damage. I proceeded pulled off some more of the stickers and did even more damage. Great. It was only many years later (at the third time of asking) that I managed to acquire a very good condition "RS" 12".

I was happy with my collection until one day, whilst idly flicking through my 7" singles, I realised the "RS" version of "Domino Dancing" was missing. I say 'missing', but in truth I'm not sure I ever owned one. I can't keep track of every single item and I seem to have just assumed I owned it. In an attempt to rectify this situation I immediately logged onto Discogs and ordered a copy. I sat back and waited for my shiny "RS" sleeved beauty to arrive.

Then I got a message from the seller: "Errr I advertised it but I can't find it. Sorry." and he promptly cancelled the order. I have never had this happen on Discogs before or since and was left totally bemused. What is it with me and disappearing "Domino Dancing" records??!! Am I cursed? Am I destined to NEVER complete my "RS" collection? These records aren't expensive, they're not even that rare, but I seem to have a particular problem getting my hands on them. So I am still looking for my one last "RS" sleeve - but the fun is in the chase.

2023 UPDATE - I actually managed to track down a copy of the RS 7" in 2020 and consider my collection complete. However, I have noticed that there are now two different pressings of this single...

Let's get physical

For those of us who treasure physical media, it is the best of times and the worst of times. I have noticed a number of recent releases that, rather disgracefully, have had no physical release at all (Booka Shade I'm looking at you). Whilst on the other hand there are hundreds of lavish vinyl releases (and a good many re-releases) that, whilst sold at a premium, continue to fly the flag for physical media.

The only area of music retail that I can see dying is the compact disc. Nobody is buying them and people seem to be disposing of their CDs en masse without a second thought. I can go online or walk in a charity shop and replace hundreds of my 'lost' CDs from the 1990s for next to nothing. This is great for filling holes in your collection, but no help for new releases.

I had cause to reflect on this situation the other day when a CD I bought still had a price ticket on. This vintage £1.99 price tag was from the chain Our Price circa 1998.

In the 1990s a trip into the city was essentially a tour of the record shops for me. First visit the two HMV stores, up the road to Our Price and quick look through a couple of independent shops before the longer walk to the fantastic labyrinth that was the Virgin Records store. I can't deny that seeing the Our Price logo made me nostalgic for those days.

By chance I was walking through the city the day after I received the CD in question and decided to walk to the last bastion physical music sales: HMV. And guess what? It was closed. I don't mean I visited outside of opening hours, I mean it was shut for business. Gone. And just like that my youth evaporated.

But I don't buy many NEW CDs anymore. I tend to buy vinyl and use the download code. When I do buy CDs I order them online as it is cheaper and more convenient that going to HMV. The days of me walking into a record store and emerging with £100 of CDs have long since gone.

So, yes, I helped kill HMV. I helped kill the CD. They have disappeared like grains of sand through my fingers and they took my youth with them.