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The machines that changed music
Scot Solida, Mon 26 Oct 2009, 12:14 pm UTC

It was a difficult decision, putting the JD-800 on the list in lieu of the massively popular D-50. The latter is arguably the classic between the two and represented a major shift in Roland's approach to instrument design and sales. Yet the JD-800 was, frankly, a far better instrument.
Like the D-50, the JD combined sample-based oscillators with a fairly typical signal path that included a resonant filter, envelope generators and the like. However, the JD-800 offered something not available on any other sample-based synthesizer: a bucket load of sliders. Yep, the JD harkened back to the analogue era, offering scads of real-time control (that, alas, could only be transmitted via SysEx). It was big, impressive and utterly sexy, even if it was made mostly of plastic.
More than that, it sounded out-of-this-world. At a time when manufacturers were doing their best to cram as many grainy 8-bit low-rate samples into an instruments' ROM as possible, Roland used only hi-res stuff, resulting in outstanding sound quality.
Alas, the JD-800 was released a decade too soon. The analogue revival was still years off and sales fizzled (at least by D-50 standards). However, Roland knew what it had, and the technology behind the JD-800 would pop up again and again in its best-selling series of rack-mountable MIDI modules.

Everything about the CS80 was big. Physically, it was a massive beast, weighing in at over 200lbs. It has a huge, garish front-panel, festooned with rocker buttons, sliders and the single best ribbon controller ever devised.
Eight voices of polyphony, aftertouch and distinct ring modulation were among the features on offer when the CS80 was released in 1976. Quirky and cantankerous, it was possessed of a sort of pseudo-programmability in the form of a trap door that hid most of a miniature front panel and could be set up before your show. If you dared take the thing to a gig, that is.
It was also hugely unstable, with analogue oscillators that drifted at every opportunity. Too hot? Too cold? Bang out of tune. Too humid? Forget it. Need to move it? Nope. The mere act of tipping it on end to wheel it about on its casters would throw it out of whack.
If you were one of the lucky few who had a stable CS80 (or could afford to hire in for the intimidating calibration process), you would have been able to avail yourself of an device capable of unparalleled expression. The CS80 felt like a real instrument. It could be made to bend to your mood and will. It responded beautifully to aftertouch. The CS80 could scream like a banshee, cry plaintively, or tap out a pattern as delicate as rain on a stained glass window.
We've recently seen one going for over 10,000 smackers and you know what? The buyer is going to get their money's worth.