My Friend, The Yamaha CS-10 Monophonic Analog Synthethizer, by Egon Von Bark


I've had my CS-10 for 20 years now and it really is like part of the family, that is, I love it for what it is even though (like all of Yamaha's gear) it has quirks that annoy me sometimes...

The simplest way to describe the CS-10 is to call it "Yamaha's version of the Mini-Moog": a medium-sized performance instrument very similar in weight, layout, and capability to the classic Moog. For the sake of argument the CS-20 might be closer to the Moog archetype, but the CS-10 is close enough: 1 oscillator & 2 filters displayed left to right on a tilted flat front panel with a 3 octave keyboard (oh, technically it's: 1 LFO; 1 VCO; 1 VCF; 1 VCA). All of the members of the CS family follow this basic style configuration, the only variations being the number of keys, oscillators and filter modules available...oh, actually the CS-80 altered the concept somewhat, but that's another story...

On an aesthetic level I would say the CS-10 is much prettier than the Mini-Moog. The sleek black sexy ethos it radiated responded well to my punk-minimalist sensibilities...and purely as a design statement, I would also suggest that it was a precursor to that 'braun-style' starless and bible black look that later became fashionable and really overdone in all kinds of appliances as well as most keyboards available today. The understated quiet dignity of it's look outclasses most of it's contemporaries, purely on a 'musical instrument as a work of art' viewpoint.
Ironically, the 'understated quiet dignity' of the finely-etched luminescent grey control panel markings make it a total pain in the butt to manipulate on a dimly-lit stage...so many hours of fumbling about in the darkness for elusive potentiometers eventually contributed to my distinctive performance style of hesitantly gradually tweaked filters...but after 20 years I've reached the point where I could play it blind-folded...which is pretty well like where you would be anyway if you wanted jam with this thing under moody, atmospheric circumstances. One musician I knew, N.Stirling, glued rhinestones to the knobs of his CS-5 to make them stand out more. Yamaha also applied this sexy, black, hard-to-read design style to their reliable but even more inscrutable old MTX series multitrack cassette recorder which after many years I also still use and still curse in the darkness...

One thing I don't curse is the CS-10's reliability: it's a solid piece of work. Maybe I'm just lucky but in 20 years I've never had it serviced. It's lived in dank basements and been dropped many times, the case is scratched and battered and one slider knob came off, but the basic sound is still fairly clean: very little hum or hiss...
Compared to the warmth and fuzziness of the Moog, the CS-10 tends to have a colder, more metallic singing voice. It will tend to gravitate to that dry analytic Kraftwerkian feel, but can be encouraged to express a more humane style by seasoning with a judicious sprinkle of reverb. Like most vintage analog instruments, it's tuning can be pretty wonky at times, but as far as I'm concerned if someone is obsessed with pitch accuracy they shouldn't be messing about with vintage analog gear, there's plenty of alternatives available. I would rarely use it to play straight harmonies, preferring it for drones, noise effects, wild portamentoey solos, and of course, as a filter...

The external input makes it easy to do vocorder effects, and it's lots of fun. The VCF just loves to subtly sculpt the resonance of almost anything you could input, and it's impossible for me to even consider using a beatbox without patching it thru the CS-10. I guess you could say it's just like a big bulky phaser pedal, but it's a really nice-sounding one! Unfortunately, every time I use it I grumble about the designer who foolishly made the external input/white noise switch an either/or toggle... to add them together would be lots more fun...oh well.

My CS-10 was a demo model purchased in 1979 for what at the time I thought was too much money AND a trade-in for a Yamaha YC-20 Electric Organ (see footnote). It came with a custom-built heavy wood flight crate bolted to it's frame, a feature I've never seen on any other CS units (actually, I could also mention I've never really seen the CS onstage or referred to by any of the recording artists that I've followed...oh! except Sun-Ra, yeah!). In the late eighties I didn't play it very often and considered selling it, but of course analog gear was unfashionable at the time so no one ever really offered me anything for it. In retrospect I'm so relieved no one else wanted it. Maybe you could call me trendy but I think I started fiddling with it again more seriously before I became aware of the 'Analog Revival'...but it really doesn't matter whether I'm before or behind the times, I'm glad I have the CS-10 now!





(footnote: The Yamaha YC-20 Electric Organ was like Yamaha's interpretation of the Farfisa. It was a heavy, portable stage instrument with simple easy to use controls and usually one keyboard, though I've seen a version with dual keyboards. The model we had was a bright, glossy, cherry-red. One really clever and unique feature of this instrument was a peculiar touch tremolo you could get by gently rocking your fingers sideways on the keys when pressed! Brain Eno mentioned that Yamaha later applied this feature to the CS-80. It was pretty subtle for the listener, but lots of fun for the performer. Aside from (I think) Philip Glass and possibly (?) Miles Davis one performing artist who really set off this beast was the young Barry Andrews (later of Shriekback) who toured with the early XTC and displayed the YC-20 on stage tilted backwards at an odd angle with the top case removed and all the electronic guts of the instrument exposed to the elements...it looked really cool and must have been sheer hell for the roadies. If anyone has photographs of this tour I would be most curious to see them again, as I lost my old Creem magazines a long time ago. Barry's distinctive charming screeching grating style on this keyboard can be heard only on XTC's first two albums.)








The CX-5


The Yamaha CX-5 Music computer was a truly innovative piece of work. Unfortunately, it was just a little bit too innovative. Like many ground-breaking products, it was just a bit too clever for it's own good. The result was a product that didn't always succeed at what it set out to, and didn't really succeed at making a big profit for the company.

At the time the CX-5 was introduced in the mid-80's, the only professional computer-based multi-track digital sequencer-synthesizer systems available were the Fairlight, Synclavier, and McClavier units, all of them economically well out of the range of us mere mortals. At a lecture I once asked digital artist Jean Piche how he could afford access to this expensive gear. He haughtily replied that the equipment he used was the product of his efforts as an artist. Later it was mentioned to me by other sources that this was also achieved by private investments as well as commercial contracts. In those early days digital editing was simply unavailable to the simply curious like myself.

In a very bold move Yamaha attempted to put these powerful tools in the hands of us poor slobs. The CX-5 was a fully functioning micro-computer powered by an 8-bit Z-80 processor, the same CPU chip used in the IBM PC consumer computer then available. The original version had 32K of onboard ram, later upgraded to 128K. The computer itself, with it's built-in ASCI keyboard, was a virtual multi-purpose machine, also capable of text-editing with an optional software package. And it was all less than $1000: At the time this was a big deal!

The model I have came with an ungainly kluge of a modified 3&1/2in. disc drive data unit. I could envision the sweating engineers working overtime to make the thing fit properly. The main case had standard midi in/out plugs and mere stereo RCA output jacks, which were a bit cheap but okay. Separate outputs for the independant osscillators for recording would have been a nice option, but we weren't asking for too much. One thing which really infuriated me is the non-user-servicable case design: no screws, just a solid plastic shell impenentrably glued together. Okay, okay, we know the darn warranty is invalidated, but this bit of paranoia made legitimate repairs like simply adjusting intermittant connections ridiculous.

The text software and the sequencer 'Music-Composer-Arranger' software came as burnt-rom module cards which plugged into slots at the top of the case, much like video-game cards. A voice-modification module which probably should have been standard issue plugged in underneath the case. Rom card modules have always seemed to me to be an efficient and durable way to manage data, I wonder why outside of video gaming they aren't used more often in modern computing?

The compact and impenetrable case contained 8 FM-synthesis ossicilators, making the sonic capablities of the instrument similar to it's contemporary the DX-7 but somewhat less detailed and actually closer in specifications to the DX-9. Anyone familiar with the DX series is aware of the challenges involved in programming custom voices in a Yamaha FM system. If you are not you will just have to take our word for it that there was good a reason why, of the thousands of DX-7's sold, only the smallest fraction of users ever deviated from the presets on their sound patch banks. Programming custom synthesizer voices Yamaha FM-style can be tricky and frustrating. It took a healthy predilection for lateral thinking to not get discouraged. On the CX-5 the voicing is laid out on the screen somewhat better than the DX-7, but it's still a bit weird. Why did Yamaha call it's voice templates 'Algorhythms'? I find this word in this context somewhat misleading, 'Templates' would probably be a better word, but oh well that's just the translation from Japanese I guess...

Anyway I was lucky when it came to these 'Algorhythms', as my associate Mr.Rob had some experience with FM-voicing and showed me a few tricks...and he also loaned me access to his interesting customized voices, which I used freely. Essentially, sound-sculpting FM voicing can drive you insane if you have some kind of specific sound in your imagination that you are determined to replicate, then it will be utterly elusive. It only becomes easier when you just fiddle absently with the parameters to see what happens, and go along with what you find...

Now as far as the music software, in the standard performance mode the main screen allowed voice selection, doubling, and split keyboard options. The main screen also presented a simple 'real time' performance recorder, kinda like a mono midi tape deck. Unfortunately, this option didn't allow for any further editing, layering or modification, so it's capabilities were limited. We had to engage the composer module to get at that interesting stuff.

The composer module provided what we really wanted to do: the ability to arrange multi-track sequences with different voices playing simultaneously, and the capabilty of cutting, pasting and modifying specific sections. In essence, the holy grail of affordable home synthesis in the eighties. Unfortunately, in practice the grail operated more like a kind of cup. The notes were displayed on screen in a crude standard music notation but regretably keying in the notes had to be done individually, and this proccess was set-up in a rather fiddly and time consuming manner. There was no option to 'perform' sections of the arrangement in real-time to a click track. Also, only each individual part of the overall arrangement was visible onscreen at any one time, so we couldn't view a 'bandleader' staff with all the parts of the chart together while entering the notes.

If the programmers of this software would have been able to fix these two problems, we probably would have ended up with something that functioned more like Fairlight's Page 7 Sequencer... Now, I don't want to diss the CX5 for not being a Fairlight, but it was to my deep regret that Yamaha had a kinda neat instrument which had the potential to be absolutely brilliant, but they tragically stopped one step short of brilliance and failed.

They paid the price. The CX5 was a powerful, affordable tool, but it's clunky user interfaces inhibited the cultivation of the kind of massive sales enjoyed by the DX7. The DX7 could get away with it's bewildering algorhythms because most musicians could hide their eyes from dealing with those intricacies and still have fun playing it. The CX5 demanded all your attention, and it's audience didn't always have the patience. For those who did have the patience, midi adaptors for home computers like The Amiga became more common, with more flexible software starting to become available. The CX5 feel by the wayside.

I rarely play my CX5 anymore. A few years ago I misplaced the composer manual and since then I've been hoping it will turn up somewhere in my stuff. The composer software is quite vexing to use without the manual to refer to.



E.V.B.