Nuthin' beats the smell of solder and the feeling of accomplishment that accompanies a successful DIY build.  Now, I'm no electronics expert.  I can read a schematic and wield a soldering iron with a steady hand.  However, the ever-active online DIY community makes enough designs available for free to keep my project cue from ever diminishing.

No foolin'. If you, like me, still love vinyl LPs, then you are going to want to take advantage of this rare opportunity to get a hold of the vinyl version of the critically acclaimed album "From Atop This Hill" by Christus and the Cosmonaughts. The CD has been out for some time, but I'll confess that this album was conceived and produced for vinyl. From the artwork to the track listing, I always envisioned "From Atop This Hill" as an LP and I am thrilled to know that it will, at long last, be released in its intended format.

Our vaunted label, Beta-lactam Ring Records has just announced that it is taking pre-orders for a very small number of copies, which will ship out late next month. The great majority of these records have been earmarked for inclusion in the sold-out Records Are Not For Baking subscription series, but sixty remaining copies of the LP are up for grabs. You'll get the vinyl LP in its glorious full-color sleeve (my own painting) and a signed, numbered hand-printed illustrated insert as well. This is cool stuff! These copies will sell fast, so don't hesitate to reserve yours. Just make sure you have your headphones ready when it arrives.

To hear clips and pre-order your copy, go to http://www.blrrecords.com/prod/1685/from_atop_this_hill.html

Yep. On this day in 1949, RCA Victor released the first 7", 45 RPM single. Well, "officially", anyway. The actual birthday of the 7" 45 is somewhat debatable. Nitpicking aside, the birth of the 7" 45 is certainly something to celebrate. It might be hard for modern music lovers to fathom the significance and value in the venerable 7" single, accustomed as they are to CDs packed to the brim with every hiccup, burp and warble ever uttered by a given artist. Yet I think the popularity of downloadable MP3s signal a return to form, if not format. After an extended period of extended releases, music fans are once again relishing the short form, even if they lose out on the joy of holding the physical artifact. If fortune smiled, said single would come with a proper jacket, complete with a cover photo of the musicians in question.

I still remember my first single, though it bore no sleeve at all. It was a hand-me-down from my aunt; a scratchy copy of The Beatles' "Help" and I can say without hesitation that it changed my life forever. Though I didn't understand the cultural significance of the song, the opening salvo was so unusual and even jarring in context that it would set into motion my love for bizarre music with shifting styles and odd juxtapositions.

I was but a kid then (early seventies, maybe), however, numerous 7" singles would pass through my hands over the years, some bringing great joy and even profundity. The most expensive record I ever bought was a 7". That was John's Children's "Desdemona", for which I gave up nearly a month's pay during that time when I absolutely had to have every last scrap of music from Marc Bolan. I was barely scraping by, but at the time, it was the only way to hear the thing.

There was a period of time when I applied the same determination to collecting any and everything by Roxy Music and its various members. The b-sides of those first Roxy singles were not made available elsewhere for decades. They were usually kooky instrumental romps that stayed well outside of the usual Roxy formula (if they could be accused of having a formula at all). Of course, Roxy Music were rock and roll historians in their own right, and displayed their loyalty to the past by releasing single-only tracks. The initial versions of their debut album lacked their first, fiery hit, "Virginia Plain" and the glorious "Pyjamarama" still manages to appear only as a rare inclusion on the odd compilation (though usually in a very different form than that which appeared as a 7" single).

I bought up a great many singles in the seventies. I was a kid with no money and albums were a rare treat, usually reserved for birthdays and Christmases. It was the era of album-oriented rock, so there weren't as many as I would have liked. Disco and easy listening crowded the record store bins and the great rock bands were producing songs that were far too long to be squeezed into a few minutes of record time. Thank goodness for The Who, Stones, ELO, Styx and Queen, who gave this young music fan something on which to spend his allowance money.

Of course, this dearth of material would be shattered by the onset of punk and the ensuing new wave. It came at exactly the right moment for me and I shelled out pretty much every penny I could scrounge together to local "indie" record stores (we didn't call them that back then). From Stiff artists like Nick Lowe and Elvis Costello to punk mainstays such as the Buzzcocks and the Undertones, there was a wealth of stuff to explore. When the dust settled, someone forgot to close the doors and some very adventurous artists slipped through before the mid Eighties saw a return to homogeny and corporate rock. There was Suicide and Throbbing Gristle and Tuxedomoon and of course Gary Numan, Alien Sex Fiend and The Cramps, alongside The Virgin prunes, The Fall and scores of other acts that weren't quite punk, but were anything but mainstream. The 7" seemed to foster individuality.

Today, alas, it has all changed and the 7" single has become a niche collectible rather than the mainstay of the music fans' diet. Still, for over half of its sixty years, it was a vital artistic and cultural statement. So join me, why don't you, in digging through your old vinyl 45s and take another listen. It's going to be a good day.

My friend Tim died this weekend. He was a good man and better than most. Certainly better than I am. Tim was a fellow sound designer and, like me, made his living inside the music industry, designing for some of the same manufacturers and developers that I work for. Unlike a lot of folks in the industry, Tim was not possessed of an ounce of cynicism. He was a sweet, gentle fellow and I never heard a negative utterance pass his lips. Tim was a big, kind, charmingly goofy guy who was full of life and wonder and awe. He was just as excited about synthesizers and music in his middle age as I remember being when I first started playing. Tim knew, really knew that the tools we take for granted should not be taken so; that they are instead miraculous and marvelous in their ability to intrigue and inspire creativity. He appreciated each and every one of them and could wring wondrous sounds from the most meager equipment. Like me, he was old enough to remember when making sounds and music was not so easy, when playing and recording was reserved for a lofty elite who could afford the gear. He was ever thankful that he was given the opportunity to explore this art form. In an industry fraught with elitism, evangelism and snobbery, Tim stood alone as the guy who could find something to love and inspire in any instrument, application or platform. While other musicians argue for hours about Mac versus PCs, analog versus digital, Tim would be happily making beautiful music on any and all of the above. Heck, he'd upstage 'em all with little more than one of his beloved Ataris (a platform that Tim almost singlehandedly kept alive for computer musicians everywhere).

Yes, Tim was a good man and I shall miss him dearly. I will miss sharing our fondness for Klaus Shulze and Ozric Tentacles and Gong and Laurie Spiegal. I shall miss his excitement over discovering a world of sound in some forgotten, ignored and decidedly unhip synth. I'll miss the marathon phone conversations.

Most of all, I'll miss Tim's music. It saddens me deeply that I will never again experience the joy of hearing a new Tim Conrardy composition unfold upon first listening. Like the man himself, Tim's music was exciting, inspiring and utterly without reservation or ego. There was nothing anxious or mean or negative about it. Like the man himself, it thrilled to make the world a better, lovelier place. It was not cool and it was not fashionable. It was better than that. It was one man's attempt to make the rest of our lives a little nicer, if only for a few minutes at a time.

Goodbye my friend. I don't believe as you believed, but today I hope you were right.

Scot

It's been a long while since I posted an entry about gear. However, there have been a lot of nifty new (erm, "old") acquisitions here in The Electronic Garden and some of 'em compel me to blather on a bit.

One of the most exciting new additions has been an exquisite ARP 2600, which came to me by way of my friend Peter ("Zayin" in our Friends list). A particularly gorgeous specimen, this black and gray beastie is possessed of the 4-pole filter that sent Moog's lawyers scurrying frantically about way back when. It is immaculate and sans the scratchy sliders typical of old ARP units. I have been having a grand old time controlling this semi-modular machine with the ARP model 1601 Sequencer. I've never been enamored with 1/8" minijack patch cables, but it's a small price to pay for the sound of this legendary instrument. For those of you who don't know, the ARP 2600 was ARP's second instrument, following on the heels of the fully modular 2500. The 2600 was portable and powerful, but also patchable, with a semi-modular architecture. Without the patch cords, it is not dissimilar to any three-oscillator synth, with the lowpass filter, a pair of envelope generators (one ADSR, the other AR), ring mod, sample+hold and spring reverb. No slouch, then, even as a fixed signal path instrument, but it really comes to life when you start jamming patch cables into the thing. You see, just about every function on the thing is patchable and re-routable. This, along with such niceties as built-in multiples and voltage processors makes the ARP 2600 an exceedingly capable sound design tool. I've wanted one for years, but the secondhand prices have always been prohibitive, and I am forever indebted to Peter for making this available to me. Oh, and did I mention that it stays in tune?

I fulfilled another dream in January when I purchased an Echoplex from synthesist extraordinaire Dana Countryman: (http://www.myspace.com/jeanjacquesperreyanddanacountryman). I'm a sucker for the squishy, noisy sound of tape echoes, and though I have a lovely Brenell tube tape echo from the 1950s, I have long desired a good ol' fashioned Echoplex. Slap this baby across some eighth-note analog sequences and it's instant Klaus Schulze.

If you've read my other gear entries, you'll know my fondness for old drum machines. I've added a couple of nifty analog drum machines in recent months, all of them from Roland's cut-price BOSS division. The first of these was the first of theirs: the DR-55. Sporting no more than four sounds and an absolutely arcane method of programming, it is the sound of early Sisters of Mercy (and I absolutely love The Sisters), all kick and sputter. As luck would have it, when Brent was here in the fall, we found the Boss Hand Clapper 2, a companion to the BOSS drum boxes. Looking like a stomp box, this single pad doodad does one thing and does it very well, indeed. (I really don't have to tell you what that one thing is, do I?) It's "Since You're Gone" by The Cars in a little black and blue box, and it interfaces very well with my analog sequencers.

The last of the drum machines I've picked up recently is the BOSS DR-110. Picking up where the DR-55 left off, the DR-110 adds more sounds (included a stellar hand clap and what is possibly the lousiest excuse for a ride cymbal I have ever had the misfortune to hear) and a keen programming grid display. It is as easy to program as the DR-55 is not, and sounds great. Lots of people compare it to the TR-606, but I think it sounds cheaper and grittier (in a good way).

Back on the subject of synthesizers (my favorite subject, next to maybe old sci-fi movies. You know the ones: full of atomically enlarged insects and teenagers that could save the world if only Mary Beth's old man would let her go to the sock hop), I found a dead cheap Korg DW8000 in a local store and promptly hauled it back to the studio. The DW8000 was Korg's second (and much better) attempt at hybrid DCO/VCF/VCA synthesis. Sporting a handful of digital waveforms and the ever-popular curtis filter chip, the DW8000 is somewhat reminiscent of instruments such as Ensoniq's ESQ-1 and Kawai's K3m. The filter makes it what it is, with that familiar squelch. As a bonus, Korg strapped a digital delay into the signal path, signaling the beginning of an era when manufacturers would hide waveforms of dubious sound quality beneath swaths of echo and cheap reverb (D-50, anyone?). Fortunately the DW8000's delay doesn't hide any such thing, sounding quite good, doing a particularly nice line in piercing leads and spiky sequences.

Speaking of the Kawai K3m, I added one of those not too long ago. I've owned a lot of Kawai synths over the years, being particularly fond of their additive instruments (sadly, none of which I currently own). The K3m, however, bears closer resemblance to the aforementioned DW8000, with a brace of digital waveforms and an analog filter section. Kawai as a synth developer never seemed comfortable with the mundane and this tendency is here exemplified with the inclusion of a "user waveform". This waveform is created by, yep, you guessed it: additive synthesis, and is strictly an offline affair. Still, it's good fun and elevated the K3m above the competing "me too" digital synths of the day.

Finally, the last addition isn't something new, but rather something I've had here in The Electronic Garden for some time: a complete Oberheim "System". The OB System consisted of a drum machine (DMX or DX), a sequencer (DSX) and a synth (OBX, OBXa or OB-8). I've had a DX drum machine for some years, and also a DSX, though the latter cannot be utilized without one of the above-cited synths. My fellow Computer Music scribe RachMiel sent me an OBXa quite some time ago, but it arrived DOA. I have only recently had the resources to get it up an running and only today lashed the System together for the very first time. I can't say enough about this trilogy of technological treats. I've professed my love for the DX elsewhere, and it only gets better from there. The OBXa is simply one of the most immense synthesizers I have ever played. It's big both physically and sonically, due primarily to the fact that it is nearly impossible to identically calibrate the eight voice cards that reside beneath the hood. It's not perfect, by any means, and still needs a bit of work. However, even at this early stage of restoration, it is one of the best polysynths I have ever played, with far more physical power than my Prophet-5 (though it's not quite as versatile). Gary Numan called it the best synthesizer ever made and I can see why.

The Oberheim System is rounded out with the DSX sequencer. This is an vintage synthesist's best friend, assuming you have the Oberheim keyboard to drive the thing. If you do, you can create sequences with control over the OB plugged into it and another eight analog synths via the CV and trigger outputs. It's very slick and, at the time of its release, the Oberheim System was a lofty dream rig, cut short only by the fact that MIDI was right around the corner.

There have been some other odds and ends added or repaired (including the Tascam 58 8-track reel-to-reel, which was fixed up by the skillful Steve DeMuth of Hayes Organ Service), but it's getting late and I have to go flip the album over.

Scot Solida

Those of you familiar with the Christus and the Cosmonaughts releases preceding "From Atop This Hill" will hear a familiar presence on the next LP. Former Christus cohort Brent Heinze (Frater Locust to longtime listeners) has lent his skillful touch to a brace of tracks slated for our next (as yet unnamed) release. Brent spent a week here at The Electronic Garden laying down bass, keys and just generally having a good time experimenting in the studio. It was sort of an inauguration of the new digs, after a year of construction. The work isn't complete yet, but we were able to get it all up and running and tracking. Particularly enjoyable was the remote recording of my grand piano upstairs, which Brent played with mallets and e-bow, while I manipulated the signal with effects and tape from inside the control room. Earlier in the week, he tweaked knobs on the VCS3 and Big Modular and played some sweet leads from my V-Synth GT, an instrument from which he had to be dragged kicking and screaming. We broke up the sessions with curries, catfish and cake (I love to cook for my friends) and a visit to the Cosmosphere Space Museum that resides a few blocks down the road from my home. It was great having Brent back in the fold and he will, one hopes, be returning soon for more musical mischief.

Scot Solida

PS: Brent deserves an extra "thank you" for helping me install a new mixer and re-cable the control room, a hellish task that should be suffered by no man.

If you've listened to our music, then you already know that Pink Floyd are an influence. Yet for us, Rick Wright represents far more than a mere musical inspiration. From the sonar ping of his leslie'ed piano that announces "Echoes" to the exquisite chord progression that serves as the foundation for "Us and Them", his playing was restrained, considered and exactly right for the song.

My own synthesizer collection was inspired by Rick Wright. Were it not for him, I might not have sought out my beloved VCS3, and I would have approached the Minimoog in an entirely different (and far less subtle) way. As some of you know, I programmed many of the patches for Arturia's software recreation of the Minimoog and Moog Modular system. I get a lot of e-mail in response to my patches and by far the most common question has been "how can I make the sound from Shine On?" I recently dedicated my monthly Synth Essentials two-pager in Computer Music magazine to that very subject.

Maybe the biggest testament to Wright's influence has been the baby grand piano that resides in my home. As many of my long-time friends can attest, I have always been a synthesizer player, rather than keyboardist. I have many times declared that I am often unimpressed by the use of the piano in modern rock settings, and the instrument has never appeared on a Christus and the Cosmonaughts track. However, only last year, I realized how much I had grown to love the sound of the piano in Pink Floyd's music and reassessed my view.

Shine on, Rick, wherever you are. Every day that I hear your music is a day worth remembering.

Scot Solida

Why does everything these days seem to be super-sized, value-added and bonus laden? Sure, I understand that times are tough and we all want more for our money, but art shouldn't be subject to Dollar Menu tactics. I recently ordered a CD copy of one of my favorite albums. The record in question was Tyrannosaurus Rex's "Unicorn", a brilliant collection of sixteen tracks of pure, pixilated pop that could only have spilled from the pre-pop star mind of Marc Bolan. Much to my chagrin (but not to my surprise), it had been "re-mastered" to meet the "standard" of today's excruciating volume levels. It didn't suffer as badly as some old records from this treatment, and thankfully it retains some semblance of its former delicacy.

Much more annoying is the fact that the thing comes bursting at the seams with no less than fifteen bonus tracks! While the single "King of the Rumbling Spires" may be an inspired bit of schizophrenic elf-rock, there must surely have been better vehicles. Was it necessary to trample the mood of the original recording with not one, but TWO versions of this single? And did we really need to hear alternate takes that were once deemed not worthy of inclusion by the people who crafted the album in the first place?

Look, I want to hear some of this stuff too. I'm a fan. Yet I can't help but think that the fans would be better served by a comp or a second bonus disc, ala the repackaging of the debut from The Cars. This album, like so many others, was a complete work. Decisions were made at the time as to which songs would best befit the mood and intent. Maybe Marc Bolan would have chosen to pack the thing with all of these tracks if he could have at the time or maybe he wouldn't have done. Unfortunately, he's not here to ask. To my mind, it's kind of like displaying the Mona Lisa and grafting two more paintings and a couple of discarded sketches onto the side of the thing.

Haven't we trampled enough on our current and departed artists' masterworks? Give me a forty minute chunk of artistic history any day over an aimless hodgepodge of rejected bonus material.

And yeah, we put three "bonus" tracks on the CD version of From Atop This Hill, but before you accuse me of hypocrisy, take comfort in the fact that those songs are an integral part of that particular song cycle and are omitted from the LP due to a question of space. WE decided how it should sound, not some label, archivist or re-mastering engineer.

Not everyone has fallen sway to this trend. EG Records have been reissued intact and unmarred. Yep, I'd LOVE to have the brilliant 12" of Roxy Music's "The Main Thing" on CD, but not so much that it would interrupt the joy of hearing "Avalon" intact and in its original order.

I may have to go back to buying vinyl. For now, I have to program the CD changer to stop "Sleepwalker" when it's actually supposed to end.

It's been a long, difficult road, but we are nearing the end of the construction of the new control room here at The Electronic Garden (or as my son calls it, "Shabby Road"). We've poured a lot of effort and expense (for us anyhow!) into building the studio. There is a dedicated 14' x 14' reverb chamber, a small vocal booth and a control room, complete with non-parallel walls, DIY acoustic panelling and bass traps and as much isolation as we could manage. We followed many of the dictums set down by F. Alton Everest in his excellent "Small Budget Recording Studio" (ISBN-10: 0071387005), including using dual framed walls, externally mounted outlets and cable boxes. There is enough room for the gear I need close at hand (modular system, Minimoog, V-Synth, Prophet-5, PPG Wave 2.2, Oberheim System, VCS3, Odyssey, computer, small mixer and 8-track reel-to-reel, along with a 56-space rack). As the year wears on, I'll be refining the rooms as I figure out what they need, and working on the "live" area, making it comfortable and inspiring.

This has been no easy job. I bought this house in October and the basement was entirely unfinished. Some of it still is, but it's taking shape. We'll be painting the control room and vocal booth tomorrow if all things go as planned, and moving gear in by Sunday. There is a lot of cabling ahead! I hope to get some pictures up next week!