Tomorrow, In A Year - The Knife, Mt. Sims and Planningtorock

I remember being disappointed. The Knife were planning something of a hiatus, and it was showing all indications of lasting a while. As it happened, the period of dearth I had dreaded didn't last too long: the Karin Dreijer part suddenly produced a 'Fever Ray' album out of nowhere, whilst Olof Dreijer produced the most interminably dreadful remix known to man and shoved it on the (can I be bothered to do the characters? no, fuckit) Year Zero Remixed album. (Trent and I still disagree on the whole Year Zero thing, but so far he's refusing to talk to me.)

Tomorrow - in a year, no less! - came out of months and months of hard work, I'm sure, but it sounds best if I say it came out of nowhere. Suddenly an email appears - The Knife are involved in an opera, along with a band I'd only heard of on a DJ Hell compilation which included the demurely-titled 'Hate Fuck'. Planningtorock remain a mystery, but one well worth exploring, assuming that their involvement with the CD goes beyond planning and extends into knob-twiddling and general electrical jiggery-pokery.

That's what this work is about, actually. The calls of birds, the movement of geological structures, the interaction of swarming shoals and endlessly calling birds, desperate for a mate; that's what it's all about. Inducing an analogue synthesizer to give birth to the mating call of a short-billed thrush, twisting it through a low-frequency oscillator to emulate its more evolved cousin, then mixing the two: this is what the album is about.

Darwin, his work, the justification for our existence - it's all brought into focus, as Karin manipulates her voice over the analogue workings of her brother, Mt. Sims and Planningtorock. Twisting and winding, the instrumentation tells a story, and the soaring, the twisting and the wailing, screeching synths all conspire to clarify the situation.

Let's be clear: if you don't get the idea, then from track one through to ten, you're listening to something you don't want to hear. It's not Lady Gaga. It's not Thelonious Monk accidentally playing what turn out to be the right notes. It's a synthetic representation of the evolutionary processes which form Darwin's theory, and it's perfection. What more can be said than that I listen to it for pleasure, and that those who inhabit the room with me do not? Does everyone believe that 'The Haywain' is the ultimate expression of art? Does everyone search for a new 'Mona Lisa'? Are Dali's massively-stilted elephants not a valid representation of art?

This work - Tomorrow, In A Year - is genius.

The Fun They Had - Isaac Asimov

The Fun They Had is a short short story by Isaac Asimov. Its length of roughly one thousand words is nigh on perfect, however, for in those one thousand words Asimov produces a perfect children's story with a point that's just twisty enough for most kids. And it is aimed at children, there's no doubt, and the premise is almost laughably simple. Or it would be if the story didn't make an intriguing social comment on the nature of education as a socialising influence with such gleeful innocence.

Asimov was, apparently, rather at a loss to explain the popularity of the story, which was originally written in 1951 for a newspaper and later published in Science Fiction And Fantasy Magazine. Of course, the story's length and simplicity lends it well to school literature texts for younger readers, and the story received more requests for inclusion in anthologies than any of his other stories.

In the story, Margie finds a book. And books, in 2155, are pretty peculiar. 'I guess you throw it away once you're done with it.' her brother says, and they muse on how much better their electronic book readers are - you can use them over and over again. But this mysterious object from the attic is quite fascinating to Margie, and to Tommy too. Much more interesting, in fact, than the mechanical teacher, which Margie secretly hopes might break down forever. In Margie's book it tells her all about school, about meeting friends in the playground, about homework and sitting together with your own desk. You'll have guessed the point by now - it is aimed at children after all...

"Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they had."

Soldering Iron

A soldering iron is a simple device for applying heat to a specific point. The intention is to melt solder at this point, joining two materials. This joint is then allowed to cool, thus soldering the two materials together. Generally, soldering is used to create an electrically conductive joint betweenelectrical components and a circuit board. It should be noted that although the term soldering also refers to joining pipes, a plumber would use a blowtorch rather than a soldering iron.

Solder is generally a mixture of tin and lead with a melting point just below 190 degrees Celsius. The tip of the soldering iron, therefore, must reach this temperature, and the most common method of achieving this is with electrical power. Other options include butane powered soldering irons, which have the advantage of being cordless, and there are other devices available which are designed to be heated in a furnace.

Depending on the type of work at hand, differently shaped tips can be fitted to the soldering iron. For working with fine electronics components, a slender and rounded tip is useful, whereas a triangular, flat face is useful for work with sheet metal. The tip itself should be coated with a thin layer of solder, a process known as tinning. This ensures a good transfer of heat from the tip of the iron to the surface being soldered, and keeps the tip in good condition.

The high temperatures at which soldering takes place means that certain safety considerations must be taken into account. The majority of soldering irons feature a hook by which the device can be hung whilst hot, or come with a stand into which the iron should be placed when not in use. Additionally, there is always risk of the solder splashing, and so protective goggles are essential.

Although soldering irons come in a range of sizes, the majority of these are visible with the naked eye. New Scientist, however, recently reported the smallest device in the world. Formed from carbon nanotubes with a diameter of 20 millionths of a millimetre. Gaseous iridium is condensed into solid droplets between one and ten nanometres wide, then electrically forced along the nanotube's surface where they collect as a bubbling liquid. The inventor, Alex Zettl, plans to use them to solder tiny parts together, enhancing current work on a 'nano-structure production line'.

Vince Clarke

Vince Clarke is probably most famous as half of Erasure, the other half being Andy Bell, and one can get a pretty good idea of the 'Vince Clarke sound' simply from taking a trip through Erasure's twenty-four consecutive top 20 hits. For a more comprehensive overview, you'd have to take in his work with the early Depeche Mode, his acclaimed time as half of Yazoo (or 'Yaz' in the US) with rootsy blues diva Alison Moyet, and the various other projects he's had a hand in (West India Company, The Assembly, The Clarke And Ware Experiment, Robert Marlowe, Paul Quinn, Feargal Sharkey, Habit, Genderfix… I'll stop now; there's too many). Through his career, a strong association with Daniel Miller's Mute Records is evident, as is a preference for producer Eric Radcliffe.

Vince is an electronic musician, famous for his love of analogue instruments, although in later years he's started to branch out into digital. He's a competent guitarist, as well, but it's in the realm of synthesizers where Vince's genius lies. His particular brand of electronic music has a genuinely recognisable style, particularly when it comes to the instrumental pieces that scatter their way across the many b-sides of Erasure's work. Vince also remixes, occasionally, turning tracks from artists as diverse as Rammstein, Sparks, Happy Mondays or Polly Scattergood into shiny synthpop treats.

Vince currently lives in Maine with his wife Tracey and their son. At 48 years old and with no sign of Erasure slowing down, there's still plenty of synthpop heaven to come...

(Caption competition winner: 'Alison and Vince quickly regret accepting the Poltergeist soundtrack commission.' Thank you Mrs B. Smegma, Warrington.)

Multiface

The Multiface, product of Romantic Robot UK Ltd, was designed to be a multi-purpose interface. You can see where the marketing boys came up with the name...

The basic idea was quite simple. The Multiface 1, a small black box with a red button on top, was wedged into the expansion slot of your Spectrum where it would patiently sit, waiting to spring into action. One press of that red button later and up popped a menu allowing you to perform all manner of amazing feats.

Back up the entire contents of memory to cassette, cartridge, wafer or disk. Fill the 8k RAM extension with whatever sneaky code you could think up. Use the 'Multi Toolkit extension' to POKE around in the gubbins of your Speccy - infinite lives, anyone? And, last but not least, there was a Kempston-compatible joystick interface stuck on the side.

This was heaven! The Multiface 1 provided unprecedented access to the guts of your machine, and most importantly of all it allowed you to take a snapshot of your entire machine and 'back up' your games collection. And your friend's game collection. And, in fact, any games you could get your hands on. Depending on your moral standpoint, of course, which led Romantic Robot to make the following statement:

PIRACY IS ILLEGAL! 

MULTIFACE 1 is NOT designed to encourage PIRACY!

Please note that you must not use it to copy, reproduce or infringe in any way any copyright material without the clear permission of the copyright owner. ROMANTIC ROBOT neither condones nor authorises the use of Multiface for the reproduction of copyrighted material - to do so is illegal!

Technically, the Multiface was extremely clever. The Z80 processor at the heart of the Spectrum had a non-maskable interrupt line. This means little to most of us, but rest assured that when the red button was pressed, a NMI was triggered, and the Multiface quickly paged outthe Spectrum ROM, replacing it with an entirely new program: that of the Multiface. It was cunning, no doubt, but most importantly of all it allowed you to hack and crack those games with consummate ease...

Oh, and it only worked in 48k mode. So Romantic Robot developed the Multiface 128 and, in time, the Multiface +3, each designed to work specifically with those systems. With each incarnation came further benefits; compare the feature set of the Multiface +3, which offered transfer of programs from various formats, copying of screens to the printer, the use of DOS commands in 48k mode, and an expanded toolkit for fiddling about with memory contents.

In its time - that's October 1986 - the Multiface was one piece of equipment any hardcore Speccy owner had to have, despite its £40 price tag. The proof of this worth may well be its inclusion in so many emulators today, and you'd be hard pressed to find a latter-day Spectrumowner who doesn't have equally fond memories of their multiface.

But, the ingenuity of Romantic Robot doesn't end there, for the Speccy wasn't the only machine around with a solid Zilog Z80 chip sitting at the heart of it. The Amstrad CPC, too, was prime candidate for a multiface attachment. With much the same abilities as the Spectrumversion, the Multiface 2, 2+ and 2E caused similar joy in the lives of many Amstrad users...

Sinclair ZX-80

Although not truly the first Sinclair computer, that honour going to the MK14, the ZX80 is widely considered to be the machine that kick-started the home computer market, particularly as the MK14 has more in common with a calculator than a computer. Although, like the MK14, it was available in kit form, a ready-built version was also available, and it was this that made home computing accessible to everyone - not just those who were handy with a soldering iron and confident enough to assemble and solder together a hundred pounds worth of kit.

£99.99, actually. In 1980 the ZX80 became the first computer available in the UK for less than a hundred pounds, and these two factors - price and the fact that it worked right out of the box - led to an immense popularity, selling 70,000 units in about a year and easily paving the way for the success of the ZX81 and its worthy successor the ZX Spectrum.

Specifications:


Containing a total of twenty-one chips, the ZX80s specifications were groundbreaking, though now they seem almost paltry. At its heart was the processor: an NEC 780-1, a clone of Zilog's Z80 chip, running at 3.25MHz. RAM amounted to 1 kilobyte, and its display, black and whiteonly, could manage 22 x 32 text characters. Cassette ports were provided for loading and saving data, and there was an extra memory port which one could use to bring the RAM to 16K, sadly also exposing oneself to the dangers of RAM pack wobble in the process; one slight knock and three hours of work disappeared into the black hole of a hard reset. The ZX80 also included a 4K ROM chip containing Sinclair BASIC. There was also support for the Sinclair ZX Printer, released in 1981, provided you updated the ZX80 ROM chip.

The Operating System: Sinclair BASIC


Sinclair BASIC itself is worth a moment of reflection. Each key on the machine produced an entire keyword: pressing 'R' would enter 'RUN', whereas 'K' would produce the command 'LET'. Other commands were produced by using modifier keys such as shift. Although this approach introduced a slight learning curve, it had a number of advantages. Proficiency was quickly established through repeated use, and the system entirely avoided potential spelling errors, and allowed each command to take up only one byte of the precious 1024 available.

The minimalist design of the computer meant that the generation of the video signal was partly done in software, with the processor taking up most of the strain. This had the unfortunate side-effect that the display was blanked out whenever the processor was doing something other than waiting for an input. Moving graphics were, therefore, out of the question: if a program was running then the screen was blank. There were ways round this, but they were hardly efficient - one website offers a version of Space Invaders which hacks its way round the problem by repeatedly calling the display routines manually. The problem was partially solved with the ZX81, which allowed the BASIC interpreter to run in 'slow' mode, with graphics, or without them in a 'fast' mode. Moving on further, the Spectrum's hardware, with considerable improvements, had no such problems.

Design:

The physical design of the machine reflects two factors. Most prominently, the industrial design work of Rick Dickinson, who produced a white, plastic shell about the size of two paperback novels. Also clearly visible is the influence of the sub-£100 price tag. A one-piece membranekeyboard graced the top of the machine, threatening to wear out rapidly unless handled with care, a clear nod toward price-cutting.

America and beyond:


In February of 1980, the ZX80 was also launched in the US, at a price tag of $199.95, just one month before their release of the ZX81 in the UK. Later, American company Timex would begin selling the ZX81 as the Timex Sinclair 1000, halving the price tag to $99.95.

Finally, we reach the glory days of Sinclair Research: A year after its release in the UK, January of 1983 saw the Timex Sinclair 2000, more popularly known as the ZX Spectrum, go on general release to the American public.

Yamaha DX-7

Introducing The DX7

Originally introduced in 1983, the Yamaha DX7 is a classic amongst digital synthesizers. The DX7 is capable of 16 voice polyphony, with 32 spaces for different voices, and features a membrane type control panel - the kind you may remember from Speak & Spell; in other words, its age shows. Yet the DX7 was wildly popular, with estimates in the region of 160,000 sold between 1983 and 1987, and while it's possible you may not have heard of the DX7 by name, it's virtually impossible for you not to have heard one.

Enya, for one, is fond of the DX7's sound. It's particularly good at synthesizing a bell-like sound, which Enya has seized upon for more than one song: The actual track The Celts features it heavily, as does Book Of Days. Other artists with a penchant for the DX7 tubular bells include Tim Cappello, whose DX-laden rock hit I Still Believe graced The Lost Boys soundtrack. Not that the DX7 is only good for tubular bell sounds. a-Ha, Heaven 17 and Jean-Michel Jarre have all dabbled with the DX7 at one time or another, wrenching powerfulbrass sounds, deep orchestral strings or that brighter, less-analogue synth bass sound. And how can one forget Brian Eno? Surely not.

"So many processings and reprocessings - it's a bit like making soup from the leftovers of the day before, which in turn was made from leftovers..."

- all about creating Apollo: Atmospheres And Soundtracks with a DX7.

Digital Synthesis and Frequency Modulation

In a world of analogue synths, the DX7 was something new. Used to twiddling knobs, if not patching things from here to there with lengths of cable, the world of digital synthesis was new, exciting and surprisingly popular. In fact, the DX7 was a paradigm shift: the first truly digital synthesiser.

More specifically, the DX7 used a type of synthesis known as frequency modulation (FM), developed a decade earlier at Stanford University by a Professor John Chowning. In FM synthesis sounds are created by interacting units, little building blocks of sound, which can act as 'carriers' or 'modulators'. Each unit, known as an operator, is a sine wave, which is shaped and pitched according to the programmer's wishes. When linked together and made to interact, one operator modulates another to produce a new, varying pitch and tone.

It is the arrangement of these operators and how they are allowed to interact that determines the final sound. Each voice produced by the DX7 was based on the interactions of six operators which could be interacted in 32 different ways - Yamaha called these algorithms. To further increase the complex synthesis abilities of the DX7, a range of other effects could be added, and an envelope could be manipulated for each operator, allowing it to fade in, fade out, be sustained and so on.

This complexity was daunting to many musicians, and a niche industry quickly arose: DX7 programmers were in high demand, and the ability of the DX7 to accept memory cartridges with pre-programmed sounds was rapidly exploited both by Yamaha and by third-party synth-programmers.

Getting Physical

The original DX7 is a behemoth of an instrument. With a metal case and sturdy keys, the DX7 is a hefty piece of kit. As previously mentioned, data input was undertaken using a membrane keypad, which stretched across the top-right portion of the instrument. To the left was a volume control and data input slider, just above a couple of standard wheels - one for pitch bend, one for modulation. Feedback to the user was provided through a miniscule LCD display: two lines, barely adequate to inform the performer what voice they were using, let alone provide display space for programming the machine. Yet programmers and musicians managed, and managed well, even though Yamaha declined to include lighting for the LCD.

Other Features

Although relatively new at the time of the DX7, Yamaha chose to include MIDI on the DX7, allowing it to communicate easily with other musical instruments through a standard interface. Sequential Circuits had already released their own MIDI synth, the Prophet 600, and Yamaha smartly jumped on board over a year before Roland. Yamaha's implementation was basic - crude, even - but at least it was there.

As well as the now-standard MIDI interface, Yamaha added their own breath controller, a little-used method of controlling the overall sound of the DX7 by breathing into a tube. The results were surprisingly good, allowing the performer to successfully emulate a woodwind or brass instrument. Breath control has not, however, caught on, despite it being a novel and well-implemented idea.

The Yamaha FS1R, intended as a successor to the DX7, is easily able to accept original DX7 parameters. This is backward compatibility rather than forward-thinking, but the effect is the same - the DX7, beloved of many, will continue to make its presence heard...

The Rest Of The DX Family

Yamaha's DX range did not consist solely of the DX7. Other notable models included:

DX1

Basically a double DX7 crammed into a wooden case with piano keys and a slightly easier programming interface.

TX7
Simply a rack-mounted version of the DX7.

DX5

Similar to the DX1 but at a more affordable price point.

DX9

The DX9 featured the same technology as the DX7 but used four operators and 8 algorithms. It maintained 16 note polyphony and came with the ability to load and save voices to an external cassette tape.

DX21, DX27 and DX100

These were the low-end versions of the DX range. Lacking key velocity and with only 8 note polyphony, all three machines were very similar, the differences mainly centering on portability.

DX11, TX81Z

Along with further waveforms, Yamaha also added multitimbrality to these instruments, providing the basis for their SY77 and SY99 range.

TX816

Desperate for multitimbrality but can't quite afford a bank of DX7s? Then the TX816 was for you: eight rack-mounted DX7 modules in one case.

Notable DX7 Users

An incomplete but informative list includes: Kraftwerk, Underworld, Orbital, BT, Talking Heads, Brian Eno, Jan Hammer, Phil Collins, Stevie Wonder, Scritti Politti, Depeche Mode, Front 242, U2, a-Ha, Enya, The Cure, Vangelis, Elton John, Queen, Yes, Jean-Michel Jarre, and Herbie Hancock


Sources

• Vintage Synth
• Yamaha Synthesizers History
• Recording Studio Tips
• Future Music
• Yamaha DX7 Manual

Fuse

There are two kinds of fuse: those used in explosives, and those used in electronic devices.

Explosives

In explosives there are a variety of fuses, the simplest of which consists of a rope or cord which has been impregnated with combustible materials. When one end of the fuse is lit the flame will progress along its length at a predetermined and dependable rate. The other end of the fuse is, as anyone will remember from the Road Runner cartoons, attached to the explosive charge. The whole point of the fuse, and the importance of it burning at a constant, dependable rate, becomes obvious here. The person lighting the explosive will require time to achieve a safe distance (or in the aforementioned cartoon, the coyote will require time to ingest or somehow become stuck to the dynamite), and thus a sufficient amount of fuse is left to provide time for anyone in the area to reach safe distance.

The safety fuse, invented in 1831 by a leather merchant called William Bickford, was the first fuse to achieve this dependable timing. It was, compared to its predecessors, astoundingly consistent. Bickford, motivated to reduce the number of accidents in the mines, wrapped a core of black powder in textiles. Later on the cord featured an added waterproof coating, often asphalt, and later on a further outer sleeve of plastic or textile.

Black powder was eventually banned in many mines, and in 1908 the detonating cord made its debut. In many ways this was similar to the safety fuse, but contained high explosive rather than black powder. It was constructed in a rather unnerving manner, in that a large-bore cylinder of lead was filled with molten TNT and allowed to solidify before being passed, repeatedly, through rollers until it had reached the correct diameter. Called, in its native France, cordeau détonant, elsewhere it was merely called cordeau.

In 1936 the American manufacturers of cordeau developed their own version: Primacord. It was based on the French patents and consisted of a core of PETN or RDX surrounded by a variety of textiles, waterproofing and plastic.

Electronics

In electronics, however, a fuse is almost the opposite; rather than causing explosions it is designed to prevent them, being a simple but important safety device. Imagine the bulb from a torch, in which a thin section of wire glows when electricity is passed through it. If too much electricity is passed through the bulb the section of thin wire will melt. The fuse works on a similar principle; a wire or strip of metal, designed to melt when excessive current passes through it, is placed in the circuit. When a potentially dangerous amount of current passes through, the metal in the fuse melts and the circuit is at that point disconnected from the mains. (This is usually a good thing, though occasionally one is led to wonder whether fuses are designed specifically to blow at critical moments during television programmes or when you're just about to finish the penultimate level of Tomb Raider.)