Piano lessons from seven years of age and pipe organ fascination from the age of nine began a passion for keyboards. Now, aged 82, I love my keyboards. They include several synthesizers and two arranger keyboards, and access to a grand piano and three‑manual (electronic) church organ. I play the piano badly and am no more than an amateur organist. Along the way, I have built divider organs and embraced synthesis and sampling, but it is the keyboard that gives me the way in to express and experiment with the sound world in my head.
Korg’s OpSix, WaveState and ModWave, Roland’s Jupiter‑XM and Gaia‑2, and an ASM Hydrasynth each have a place in the expression of what I hear in my head. MIDI controls these instruments — most recently driven by a Yamaha CK61, which contributes welcome bread‑and‑butter sounds. I record my ‘dreams’ to a Rode Podcaster. I do not crave or need a high‑end keyboard. A humble synthesizer keyboard or the simple CK61 are more than adequate. But, I do love my keyboards, where I can easily lose hours of my time exploring seemingly endless sound possibilities.
Whether I really succeed in getting down what I hear in my head is a matter that only I can judge, but just occasionally, I do get it right. Most of the time it is a near miss, but at least it is out of my head and satisfies something basic in me. Something impossible without the keyboards I love.
Over the years, Sound On Sound has been a major source of useful, reliable reviews of new gear and introductions to new techniques. However, the excitement of trying these innovations has almost universally depended on the ‘humble’ keyboard and my not‑so‑brilliant skills. For a brief period I considered a change from hardware to software, but my computer skills proved limiting, and anything that removed me from the hands‑on, keyboard‑driven approach never seemed to quite satisfy me. I can really understand why so much creation and production of music now takes place in the computer/software world, and I don’t decry any of this, but I just love my keyboards and the hands‑on approach using hardware.
There is much to admire and marvel at when one hears the remarkable keyboard skills of today’s performers...
Manufacturers continue to tempt us with hardware synths and I am astounded by the range of techniques and remarkable user interfaces developed. Many excellent composers expect to drive these creations from their DAWs, and the available software is indeed remarkable. So is there still room for simple, direct keyboard input to these new synthesis engines? There is for me, but am I in a dying minority? Yet, there is much to admire and marvel at when one hears the remarkable keyboard skills of today’s performers, spanning everything from classical music to the most extrovert modern composition or improvisation.
Surely, we have to appreciate and admire the skill and the often unimaginable amount of time that goes into the preparation and presentation of music in its many forms. It is great to have opportunities to observe these processes, even greater to follow that long path in our own musical journey. A good way to realise a little of what is involved is to set oneself the task of preparing a new composition and demanding excellence in the process. It would not matter what equipment or computer programs were used, but a nod to keyboard skills remains a learning process in its own right.
Just recently, at the invitation of a female vocalist and her producer, I had the privilege of observing a recording of a new work in a high‑end studio. What captivated me most was the fanatical attention to detail and the ‘density’ of concentrated effort by everyone involved. It was punctuated by short episodes of manic humour, but the professionalism shone through it all.
Readers will not be surprised that my interest centred on the major contribution of the keyboard player and his interaction with the other musicians (mainly strings). His constant interchanges with and support of the vocalist were a joy to behold.
Recorded versions of this four‑minute piece spanned everything from rubato‑rich, exciting free‑and‑easy to a highly restrained ‘quantised’ pristine interpretation of the score. While it was clear to see (and hear) that the most extrovert version was favoured by all of the musicians, I was shocked to hear the producer announce that the most restrained version was his choice. My friend, the vocalist, simply shrugged her acceptance and said that her fee was the same whatever the chosen version.
It was the keyboard player who lost his cool, which he did in a very vocal way, illustrated by a keyboard demonstration that took my breath away. He did what I would love to achieve. He took his deepest feelings and expressed them through his playing.
I have only a tiny fraction of his talent but, like him, I love my keyboards.