White Keys and Black Keys

From the mid-1950s to the late 1970s, electrifying the piano was the Holy Grail of music technology. After the successes achieved with guitar, double bass and organ, the finish line seemed just around the corner — but making the sound of Western music's iconic instrument amplifiable, without the aid of microphones, proved to be a challenge of extraordinary difficulty. It was also a pursuit into which entrepreneurs and musicians were willing to pour huge resources: a convincing electric piano would mean a keyboard with unmatched dynamic range, easily portable, and providentially able to compete in volume with the sonic overlords of the nascent rock era.

The story of the twenty years spanning 1954 to 1976 is dotted with imperfect experiments and bold innovations, some of which would translate into astonishing industrial success and sounds capable of defining pop music for an entire era. Wurlitzer and Rhodes are without doubt the best-known protagonists of this race: two lines of instruments whose names have become almost synonymous with the term e-piano, and whose sound is an icon of the golden age of the electric piano, the period straddling the late Sixties and early Seventies.

If you try to picture a Supertramp track, or recall a passage from “Bitches Brew“, chances are the timbre of a Wurli or a Rhodes is the first thing that springs to mind. Precisely because they were devoted to a well-nigh impossible task (the sound of the acoustic piano is difficult to replicate, being extremely rich in harmonics that shift over time, from a dissonant attack to an almost pure decay), the solid commercial results achieved by these two leading names still left room for significant competitors to emerge, carving out their own place in the musical landscape thanks to their strengths and limitations — the latter often turned into assets by musicians' creativity.

Given such a fiercely competitive field, telling the sound of one e-piano apart from another “by ear” is at times impossible even for experts: one of the most sought-after features when launching a new model was, in fact, the ability to replicate a rival's sound. Although each series and each model has its own distinctive sonic traits, identifying them can be particularly tricky, especially when the keyboard is buried in the mix, that is “masked” by the sound of other instruments. To pin down the representative tracks that make up this selection, we therefore relied chiefly on video appearances (live, not mimed), on testimonies deemed reliable, and on recording credits (though these are very often incomplete, and thus of little use). In some cases, research confirmed the hunch drawn from listening; in others, it proved that hunch spectacularly wrong. In several instances, however, it was not possible to identify the instruments involved with certainty, and the tracks were therefore left out of the survey. The care devoted to this reconstruction limits, but does not rule out, the possible presence of misidentifications: if you spot any, don't hesitate to get in touch with the article's author!

Roar and warmth

The instrument that essentially created the electric piano market out of thin air is the Wurlitzer Electronic Piano, launched in 1954 by the Rudolph Wurlitzer Company of Cincinnati, Ohio, at the time the world's largest piano manufacturer. Despite its name, it is an electromechanical instrument with no electronic components, generating frequencies by striking small metal reeds. The vibrations are then picked up by electrostatic pickups, which feed them to the amplifier built into the instrument. As with every subsequent model and competitor, the instrument's construction dictates its ideal uses: in this case, the compactness of the reeds means the oscillations always decay fairly quickly, giving the instrument limited sustain. The playing styles most effectively associated with it are therefore fast, dense passages rather than sparse ones.

The Wurlitzer's timbre is regarded as warm, but also aggressive. This trait stems from the sound's relative harmonic impurity, with waveforms close to a “sawtooth” shape, the same shape favored by bowed string instruments. The Wurlitzer sound's personality is especially evident in the low frequencies, which have a husky, full-bodied character, driven above all by the slight distortion that comes with heavy key pressure.

At the root of the “Wurli” sound is a patent filed in the early 1950s by American inventor Benjamin Miessner, who had been working on electrifying the piano since the 1930s. Its acquisition by Wurlitzer quickly led to the production of the first model, the Wurlitzer 100, closely followed by the 110, 111 and 112. Initially, the company envisioned its electric instruments as home-use, entry-level versions of the acoustic piano, to be sold to families who might one day be interested in buying the far more profitable grand pianos the company also produced. That's why Wurlitzer electric pianos came, from the very start, with a headphone output (so as not to disturb neighbors and family members with botched practice sessions), a keyboard with a feel comparable to an acoustic piano's but with a reduced range (two octaves fewer than a standard piano — making the move to a “serious” instrument feel more urgent), and, above all, an exceptionally low launch price: 300 dollars (about €3,000 today — still a fraction of what an acoustic piano cost at the time!). Part of Wurlitzer's marketing strategy for the new instrument involved selling it in bulk to schools and music academies, which, by connecting several electric pianos to a single listening and coordination console, could give teachers an efficient (and quiet!) way of managing a music class.

Despite the company's intentions, the instrument soon found its way into pop music, starting above all with Black music and jazz. Singer and keyboardist Ray Charles was among its early adopters: as early as 1956 he began taking a Wurlitzer on tour, having little faith in the instruments provided by venues.

Already in these early years the Wurlitzer began to acquire its own distinct emotional connotation: its sound is lively, welcoming, velvety, one that somehow absorbs the soulful qualities of the music it was associated with from the outset. Whether due to its harmonic richness or to the quick realization that its strong suit lay in the mid-low octaves, a habit took hold of using it for especially “singable” lines, pitched in a tenor register. It serves this role in “What I’d Say”, a track particularly representative of the sound of the early models (in this case a Wurlitzer 120), more imitative and thin-sounding compared to later ones. Also of interest are the recorded testimonies of Steve Allen and Sun Ra: the former is a promotional recording made to showcase the new instrument's possibilities; the latter (0:58) is probably the first electric piano solo ever captured on a jazz record (reportedly played on a Wurlitzer 110).

As with several other instruments of the era, the futuristic appeal typical of the easy listening genre led to the instrument's appearance on a number of cover-focused releases, often in not particularly creative fashion. In Eddie Baxter's track, built mainly around the sonic possibilities of the Lowrey organ, the electric piano is the opening instrument (and it returns here and there, in the more placid moments).

Sun Ra And His Archestra – Medicine For A Nightmare (1956)

Steve Allen – Sweet Lorraine (1958)

Eddie Baxter – Temptation (1958)

Jean Hoffmann – Makin’ Whoopee (1958)

Ray Charles – What I’d Say, Pt. 1 & 2 (1959)

In 1962, mindful of the market's growing interest in professional-use instruments, Wurlitzer launched the 140 series, which included the 140B model - widely regarded by enthusiasts as the finest the company ever produced. These were "pro" instruments, with a rich sound and reliable mechanics, aimed at a pricier bracket than their predecessors. Curiously, the 140B retailed at just $390: less than the less-loved 140A, because it used solid-state amplification rather than valve amplification - a detail that at the time made it look "cheaper" than its twin. With the 140 series, all the instruments gained a recognizable "vibrato" slider, which would go on to become a signature feature of every subsequent model too. The name can be misleading: according to music theory, vibrato should indicate an oscillation in pitch around the main note, but the effect actually fitted here is really more of a tremolo, i.e. an oscillation in volume. Either way, the new sonic possibility was enthusiastically embraced and soon became one of the most iconic elements of the "Wurlitzer Sound".

Throughout the Sixties, the Wurlitzer's foothold in black music continued to grow, with standout uses such as the famous intro to Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through The Grapevine", perfect for building a meditative, tension-laden mood that is then released with the entrance of the vocal line. As for the well-known "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy", written by future Weather Report member Joe Zawinul for Julian "Cannonball" Adderley's quintet, there's a juicy but hard-to-verify backstory: the piece was written for acoustic piano, but when it came time to record it, Zawinul found a Wurlitzer in the studio and decided to use it instead. That, at least, is the composer's version of events. Legend has it, however, that it was in fact the very Wurlitzer that had belonged to Ray Charles - one of the first instruments Zawinul himself had played, back in the late Fifties, "courtesy" of the soul singer during a shared tour.

Booker T And The MG’s – Chinese Checkers (1962)

The Cannonball Adderley Quintet – Mercy, Mercy, Mercy (1966)

Aretha Franklin – I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You) (1967)

The Supremes – Reflections (1967)

Marvin Gaye – I Heard It Through The Grapevine (1968)

In 1968, the most successful line of all arrived on the market - one that on its own would go on to account for three quarters of all the electric pianos the company ever sold: the 200 series. Launched at a price of $485 (around €3,700 today), the new model featured the distinctive design that is still instinctively associated with the Wurlitzer name: a curved top cover in ABS resin finished in faux leather, a metal front panel with "volume" and "vibrato" sliders, and removable chrome legs. The years from '68 to '74 (when the 200A model debuted) were boom years for sales: by then, the Wurlitzer sound had conquered pop music in every corner of the genre.

We still find the Wurlitzer in jazz/soul-rooted tracks, from the "brass rock" of Chicago to the psychedelic soul of the Temptations (in the track featured here, the instrument is played by Motown Records' "official" keyboardist, the very same Earl Van Dyke behind "I Heard It Through The Grapevine"). But the Wurli's thick, biting sound had by then also become a reference point on the pop-rock side of things: hear it, bold and irreverent, on "Lazy Sunday" by the Small Faces, and, more ringing and composed, on the hit version of "Mama Told Me Not To Come" recorded by Three Dog Night (the instrument in the video is a Wurlitzer 140). A curious fact: the first hit version of "Dancing in the Moonlight" (mentioned in the first article in this series), dating from 1972, actually features the Wurlitzer in place of the Hammond organ.

The Small Faces – Lazy Sunday (1968)

The Temptations – Run Away Child, Running Wild (1969)

Three Dog Night – Mama Told Me Not To Come (1970)

King Harvest – Dancing in the Moonlight (1972)

Chicago – Feelin’ Stronger Every Day (1973)

It's the Seventies, though, that truly stand as the "Wurlitzer decade". The round, faintly rough-edged sound of the 200 series lent the instrument a mature, reassuring character, yet one shot through with shadow. In soft-rock, folk rock and singer-songwriter circles, its counterpoints, in the most emblematic tracks, ended up becoming a voice every bit as memorable as that of the singers themselves.

At times, the Wurli's velvety timbre is used to underline a song's melancholy character: this is certainly true of Neil Young's "See The Sky About To Rain", which cracks its major-key melody with an anguished use of vibrato, and probably also of Joni Mitchell's "Woodstock". The song is a celebration of the famous festival, though it conceals the author's regret at having been unable to attend the event - though Mitchell herself was perhaps never fully convinced by that reading, given that from the earliest live performances onward she switched to the grand piano.

In other cases, it's the clear tones of the mid-to-upper octaves that stand out, matching the buoyant character of the songs. "Top Of The World", the Carpenters' chart-topping country-pop hit, is a good example of the type (incidentally, the song isn't free of melancholy shading either, pairing its shadowy passage on the flattened fifth with a foray into the instrument's lower octaves).

Joni Mitchell – Woodstock (1970) 

The Carpenters – Top Of The World (1973)

Neil Young – See The Sky About To Rain (1974) 

Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers – Breakdown (live, 1977)

Jackson Browne – Shaky Town (1977)

Moving into more distinctly rock territory, what's prized most is the aggression the instrument is capable of. The violent pounding of the keys – and the resulting impulsive strike of the hammers – however, easily causes the reeds in the middle octaves to break. The frequency of these mishaps troubled Wurlitzer's technicians no end, who at first couldn't understand the reason behind the persistent lack of grace shown by the "rockers": beyond a certain point, the intensity of pressure on the keys has no effect on the volume of the sound! What escaped the Wurlitzer staff – but not the heavy-handed musicians – is that it's the instrument's timbre that changes, and that it's precisely this pushing past the threshold that draws out the Wurli's characteristic "growl". As insurance against the risk (or, in some cases, the certainty) of an instrument going down mid-performance, better-off bands like Electric Light Orchestra started touring with more than one Wurlitzer, so the show could go on while roadies swapped out the broken reed pit-stop style.

All in all rather underused within symphonic prog, the Wurlitzer is instead widely employed in prog-pop territory. Among everyone, it's undoubtedly Supertramp who made the most iconic use of it: "Goodbye Stranger", "The Logical Song", "Dreamer" are all hits built on unforgettable electric piano passages from Roger Hodgson. Other recordings that make full use of its potential are tied to the name of Alan Parsons. In "Money", the jingle of coins and Roger Waters' bass line in 7/4 are perhaps the first elements that come to mind, but Richard Wright's off-beat e-piano phrasing is at least as essential to the track's sound. The notes of the Wurlitzer 200's middle octave are among the very first sounds to reach the ear in "Eye In The Sky", forming a backbone of the entire piece, with that enigmatic character of theirs, at once intimate and distant, reflective and uneasy.

Pink Floyd – Money (1973)

Queen – You’re My Best Friend (1975)

Electric Light Orchestra – Strange Magic (live, 1976)

Supertramp – Goodbye Stranger (1979)

Alan Parsons Project – Eye In The Sky (1982)

The Wurlitzer electric piano went out of production in 1984, when the manufacturer shut its doors after years of struggle. The brand would later pass to Baldwin and then Gibson, neither of which resumed production. What brought the company to its knees was competition from other piano makers, electric and acoustic alike, but above all the growing market share taken up by digital instruments with a convincing timbre and an increasingly affordable price tag. The Wurli sound, however, has stuck in the collective memory and has resurfaced in the decades since, both as blatant homage (the interlude around the two-minute mark of Daft Punk's "Digital Love", pure Supertramp in style) and as a subliminal lure meant to evoke that same comforting warmth found on those seventies recordings. The revival – predictably, given the feelings involved – has been especially intense in downtempo circles, but it has also brushed up against indie and alternative contexts. These are occasional uses, but in some cases ones capable of leaving a mark on fans' memories: take the intro to Beck's "Where It's at", which, at the mere mention of it, brings the sound of the Wurlitzer echoing back into the minds of listeners who, perhaps, don't even know the instrument's name.

Beck – Where It’s at (1996)

Air – Talisman (1998)

American Football – The One With The Wurlitzer (1999)

Daft Punk – Digital Love (2001)

Zero 7 – Warm Sound (2004)

The jingle of jazziness

The Wurlitzer's main rival, and soon the best-selling and most widely used electric piano of all, is the Rhodes, which debuted a decade later but quickly won over musicians thanks to its incisive, versatile sound. The Fender Rhodes pairing was born in 1959, out of the joint venture between Leo Fender and Harold Rhodes, a builder of small-scale pianos who had made a name for himself by putting together, out of scrap from military aircraft, electrified instruments that soldiers hospitalized during World War II could play. In 1960 came the debut of the Piano Bass, which left out the upper octaves from its range, still considered unsatisfactory in sound at the time. It was in 1965, the year CBS bought the company, that the first full keyboard arrived: the sparkle top, silver top or suitcase model, the first to bear the instantly recognizable "SeventyThree" logo (denoting the number of keys) just above the keyboard. In 1970, the Fender Rhodes Mark I Stage Piano was introduced, which would lead to a sales boom and a string of successive models in the years that followed, from the Mark II of 1979 all the way to the Mark V of 1984, the last of the line. Today, the Mark I remains the most iconic model and the one most sought after by professionals, as well as the most readily available thanks to the huge production volumes reached in the Seventies.

The "Rhodes sound" has a particularly silvery character, reminiscent of the glockenspiel, and it's this quality that underpins the instrument's decades-long popularity, still admired and imitated today across fields ranging from jazz and pop to electronic and experimental music. The sound is generated by hammers striking metal "tines" similar to small tuning forks. The oscillations of the tines are converted into an electrical signal by electromagnetic pickups similar to those on an electric guitar. The tines have an asymmetrical shape: the arm directly struck by a hammer is thin and elongated, producing a roughly sinusoidal vibration; the second arm, bulkier and squared off, acts instead as a resonator, enriching the timbre with secondary harmonics while vibrating in a way that's imperceptible to the eye. Among the brand's distinctive traits are the sturdiness of its instruments, the ease of repair, and the relative customisability of their sound: by slightly shifting the tines, adjusting the position of the hammers or changing their felt tips, or altering the proximity of the pickups, it's possible to tune the timbre to be more aggressive or more crystalline, more percussive or longer-sustaining, flexibly meeting the needs of different musicians.

Alongside these undeniable strengths, however, come two well-known flaws: on one hand, the tendency to quickly fall out of tune (requiring frequent retuning); on the other, the "heaviness" of the keyboard, mechanically less nimble than that of an acoustic piano or a Wurlitzer. This trait, combined with the long sustain of the notes produced, discourages the use of the Rhodes for fast, virtuosic passages, favouring instead a sparser style of playing. Particularly prominent, then, is the use of spread-out chords played one note at a time (rolled chords), which highlights the instrument's "bell-like" touch and prevents the attack of multiple overlapping vibrations from making the sound muddy and indistinct.

Already in the 1960s, with its earliest models, the Rhodes was embraced enthusiastically by artists from all sorts of backgrounds, but the person chiefly responsible for establishing the instrument — as well as for the jazz connotation it acquired almost immediately — is undoubtedly Miles Davis. Known for his assertive manner, in '68 the trumpeter ordered Herbie Hancock to use a Suitcase (something entirely new to the pianist!) for the opening notes of "Stuff", on "Miles In The Sky". It's the first instance of what, with the subsequent "Filles De Kilimanjaro", "In A Silent Way" and "Bitches Brew", would become an inseparable pairing: Davis-style electric jazz and the warm, liquid chords of the Rhodes piano. In certain tracks on "Bitches Brew", as many as three Rhodes were used at once, with the keyboardists involved (Joe Zawinul, Larry Young and Chick Corea) credited respectively as "electric piano — left", "electric piano — centre" and "electric piano — right"!

The slightly distorted sound on some recordings is the result of using amplifiers of less-than-stellar quality: for the jazz musicians involved, these were among their first experiments with electric amplification, and their familiarity with it was still limited. Paradoxically, in the years that followed that sound would be widely imitated, sometimes even using effects specifically designed to "degrade" the very clean signal produced by top-quality equipment.

From then on, the instrument became hugely popular among artists who could afford it (the launch price for a six-octave suitcase was $868 — a little over €7,000 today). There's a curious story behind the Beatles' interest in it: having been Vox endorsers for electric equipment for years thanks to deals struck by Brian Epstein, after the historic manager's death the Fab Four found themselves free to deal directly with instrument manufacturers. Paul McCartney pushed particularly hard with Fender representatives to get an electric piano in time for the "Get Back" sessions: with no units in stock in the UK at the time, two 73 sparkle tops were shipped directly from the United States. Upon arrival (or so the story goes), McCartney played three chords and told the rep: "No, that's not the sound I was after!" Probably, as the Fender/CBS employee later recounted, the sound he had in mind was that of a Wurlitzer! Either way, the instrument still ended up on "Let It Be", played by guest Billy Preston on "Get Back" and "Don't Let Me Down", lending the tracks a distinctly soulful, black-music tone.

In the same years, the Rhodes Piano Bass played a central role in the sound of the Doors. With no permanent bassist, Ray Manzarek chose to pair the ancestor of the suitcase alongside his Vox organ and the many other keyboards he used. In "Riders On The Storm", for instance, both the Piano Bass and the Rhodes Stage 73 appear (even though the video linked here, in playback, shows a Vox Continental electronic organ!).

The leading names of the new black music also flocked to the instrument: chief among them, Stevie Wonder, who across the synth-heavy trilogy of "Talking Book"-"Innervisions"-"Fullfillingness' First Finale" gave the Rhodes a role second only to the mighty modular T.O.N.T.O. system. A significant part of the keyboard sound's light and vitality also comes from the expressive use of one of the suitcase's distinctive features: stereo "vibrato". Unlike the later Stage model, the suitcase came with a built-in amplifier and speakers, which — via an optical mechanism (a light bulb switching rhythmically on and off, detected by a photocell) — allowed the audio signal to swing back and forth between one speaker and the other. Built with slightly different specs, the two speakers impart different characteristics to the tone, and alternating between them adds notable dynamism to the sound. Here too, it's really more of a stereo tremolo than a true vibrato, but at the time this naming error was common among instrument manufacturers.

Even Ray Charles, the first and most famous endorser of the rival Wurlitzer, would eventually get himself a Rhodes, which years later he'd call "an atomic bomb for the musical landscape". The soulman would return to his beloved Wurli for most of the rest of his career, but he used the Rhodes again for his most famous film appearance, the cameo in "The Blues Brothers".

Miles Davis – Stuff (1968)

The Beatles – Get Back (1969)

The Doors – Riders On The Storm (1971)

Stevie Wonder – Living For The City (1973)

Ray Charles – Shake A Tail Feather (1980)

Right at the start of the 1970s came the debut of the Rhodes Stage Mark I, more portable and softer in sound (slower attack, longer sustain) than the suitcase model, but also less fluid in the keyboard mechanics and — lacking built-in amplification — without the characteristic "vibrato". The new model's price was steep (in 1973 it cost $975 — over €5,000 today), but in fields like progressive rock and fusion there was no shortage of artists with the funds to buy one. The jazz-rock world particularly appreciated its ability to shift fluidly from a clear, bright sound on single high notes to a powerful, biting one on the mid-low register, lending a magmatic body to broad chord combinations.

Even among the most commercially successful acts, it's precisely in their jazzier moments that the Rhodes takes centre stage. Here it is at the heart of Yes' "Sound Chaser" (with jazz devotee Patrick Moraz standing in for the more classically inclined Rick Wakeman) and in the intro to Pink Floyd's "Sheep", lending a sense of warmth and ease — feelings promptly shattered as Roger Waters' bass comes surging in.

Chick Corea – Hymn Of The Seventh Galaxy (1973)

Perigeo – Abbiamo tutti un blues da piangere (live, 1973)

Yes – Sound Chaser (live, 1975)

Lucio Battisti – Ancora tu (1976)

Pink Floyd – Sheep (1977)

In pop music too, the Rhodes was a fixture of the Seventies sound. Its crystalline timbre, with a clearly perceptible attack that quickly melts into a velvety sustain, blends perfectly with the rolled-chord technique, creating a drizzly mood that goes hand in hand with the more adult, melancholy side of the era's soft rock. Given its contribution to romantic pieces like "Still Crazy After All These Years" or reflective ones like "Time Passages", it's fair to say the Rhodes is the sound of memory and nostalgia. But it was also put to other expressive uses: from the languid suspension of "I'm Not In Love" to the glorious, insistent chordal drive of the Springsteen cover "Blinded By The Light", the instrument's versatility kept expanding throughout the decade, spilling over into the beginning of the next one.

Paul Simon – Still Crazy After All These Years (1975)

10cc – I'm Not In Love (1975)

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band – Blinded By The Light (1976)

Billy Joel – Rosalinda’s Eyes (1978)

Al Stewart – Time Passages (live, 1978)

Even in territory close to funk and disco music, the Rhodes found ample use, often with a sound altered by effects or custom modifications. It turns up in the Bee Gees hit "How Deep Is Your Love", one of the signature tracks of "Saturday Night Fever", and paired with the funky exoticism of Ivano Fossati on "Panama" (in good company with a Yamaha CS-80 synthesizer).

An interesting use, among many contemporary examples, can be found in Steely Dan's "The Fez": here the output signal is run through a phaser to boost certain frequencies and add more dynamic movement to the sound's development on long sustained notes (thanks to the floating character of its variations, controlled by a low frequency oscillator, or LFO).

Starting from the mid-Seventies, some musicians with deep enough pockets chose to turn to Chuck Monte's Dyno-My-Piano to have heavily modified versions of their Rhodes built. Among the improvements on offer, particular fame was earned by the "Dyno EQ", a replacement equalizer for the factory one (which only allowed control of bass and overall volume), the "Percussion pedal", a lever for controlling the proximity between pickup, hammers and tines, and above all the "Tri-stereo Tremolo", a beefed-up remake of the classic stereo tremolo found on the old sparkle top. Keyboardists known for using "Dyno Rhodes" include Tom Coster (Santana), Russell Ferrante (Yellowjackets) and Larry Dunn (Earth, Wind & Fire). Another heavyweight who turned to Dyno modifications was George Duke, Frank Zappa's keyboardist, a giant of funk and one of the earliest users of the Rhodes, going back to his time in the Don Ellis Orchestra (1968). In the video shown, his modified Mark I appears behind him, with the Tri-stereo Tremolo clearly visible. The same footage also features two later models: Ellis Hall plays a Rhodes 54, launched in 1980 as a reduced version limited to the central octaves of the Rhodes Stage Mark II; Chick Corea, meanwhile, sits next to a Rhodes Stage 73 Mark V, the last model ever produced and currently the most expensive on the secondary market thanks to its superb finish.

Steely Dan – The Fez (1976)

Bee Gees – How Deep Is Your Love (1977)

Yellowjackets – Live @ Montreaux (1981)

Ivano Fossati – Panama (1981)

George Duke – Brazilian Love Affair (1980)

Starting in '79 with the release of the Mark II – the first model to feature a flat, non-domed top, making it easier to stack other keyboards on top, as musicians commonly did at the time – a series of new models bore witness to the company's struggle to stay competitive. Particularly emblematic of this crisis is the rare Mark III EK-10, an awkward attempt to merge an electric piano (for the mechanics of generating the oscillations) with a synthesizer (for shaping the sound through filters and envelope control).

Manufactured in 1981 in the thousands, it went largely unsold due to unreliable circuitry and a general lack of interest in this kind of instrument: musicians were far more drawn to the recent advances in true polyphonic synthesizers.

The gradual decline of the Rhodes as a central instrument, which led to it being discontinued in '84, was not entirely matched by a decline of the Rhodes as a sound. Its survival owes much to the sampling of vintage recordings (see the sample from Rick James's "Super Freak" in the insufferably catchy "Can't Touch This") and, above all, to the arrival of synthesizers like the Yamaha DX-7, which, thanks to frequency modulation technology, could reproduce the metallic harmonics of this type of electric piano in remarkably convincing fashion. The DX-7, launched in 1983, is considered one of the main commercial "killers" of the Rhodes: its cost was a fraction of that of a standard electric piano, and among the instrument's presets was one ("E. Piano 1") that faithfully echoed the Dyno sound Stevie Wonder used on the album "Hotter Than July". ("Hard Habit To Break" by Chicago is a fine period example of how that preset sounds – instantly recognizable as one of the most iconic sounds of the aching power ballads of the Eighties/Nineties.)

In areas closely tied to disco, funk and jazz-rock, however, the original remains an irreplaceable point of reference. Proof of this can be found in the many hits of Jamiroquai, but also in the jazz-inflected post-rock of Mercury Program, the shape-shifting fusion of Donny McCaslin, or the mesmerizing jazz/ambient/minimalist performances of German artist Nils Frahm, who rarely leaves the Rhodes Mark I out of his arsenal of vintage and modern keyboards alike.

Stevie Wonder – All I Do (1980)

Jamiroquai – Canned Heat (1999)

The Mercury Program – Slightly Drifting (2002)

Nils Frahm – Live @ KEXP (2013)

Donny McCaslin – Live @ NPR (2017)

Bauhaus takes the stage

Four instruments made by the German company Hohner found their way into pop and jazz in the Sixties and Seventies. These were the Pianet, Cembalet, Electra Piano and Clavinet, manufactured in various models between 1958 and 1983. All four instruments stemmed from patents filed by Ernst Zacharias, a Hohner employee for most of his career as an inventor, and reflect a vision of design and market strategy quite different from that of their American counterparts: a historic maker of organs, harmonicas and accordions, Hohner conceived its instruments for home use and dressed them in a functionalist livery designed to blend discreetly into European homes. Essential pieces of furniture, compact and with no desire to draw attention to themselves: a concept far removed from the streamlined contours of Wurlitzer and Rhodes.

Of the four instruments, only the Cembalet, Pianet and Electra Piano can genuinely be considered "electric pianos" (in fact, the first is more accurately described as an electrified harpsichord). The Clavinet, which despite its structural differences would enjoy a recorded legacy disproportionately larger than the other three instruments, will be the subject of a separate article.

The first Hohner product marketed as a home electric piano was the Cembalet, which debuted in 1958. Like the later and better-known Pianet, its electrical signal is generated by electrostatic pickups responding to the vibration of small metal reeds. These reeds have one fixed end and one free end, and are structurally similar to those used in the harmonicas and accordions that had for decades been the company's core business. Just as in a harpsichord the vibration of the strings is triggered by mechanically activated plectrums, in the Cembalet plectrums made of synthetic material set the reeds oscillating when activated by the keyboard. When the key is released, a small felt pad stops the oscillation, cutting off the sound.

The Cembalet is a relatively rare instrument today, and its use in professional music was certainly more limited than that of its direct successors. In the early Sixties, when competition was less fierce, the instrument nonetheless featured on a number of records eager to exploit its novelty factor. Later on, there was no shortage of well-known names able to bring out its unfamiliar, sometimes harsh sound. The most famous are probably the Stranglers, who apparently adopted it because, in the Seventies, its price on the second-hand market was lower than that of the more prestigious e-piano models. The reasons behind its use by several pop and progressive acts from peripheral countries were likely similar. Finally, worth noting is its use by John Cale for an unsettling Theatre of Eternal Music performance.

Mag'net Quartet – Dinah (1962)

John Cale – Stainless Steel Gamelan (1965)

Hljómsveit Ingimars Eydal – Raunasaga (1966)

The Stranglers – No More Heroes (video live)

Terreno Baldio – Água que corre (1976)

For Hohner, the Cembalet was an intermediate step towards building an electric emulation of the piano, which arrived in 1962 with the first Pianet. Like its predecessor, the new instrument relied on electrostatic pickups (until 1977) and the vibration of small metal reeds similar to those found in harmonicas. There were two main differences: the position of the pickups relative to the reeds, which gave the instrument a timbre closer to the piano than to the harpsichord, and the way the reeds were set in motion, not struck but indirectly activated by pads made of synthetic material. The mechanism is ingenious and unlike that of any rival instrument. The pads, moistened with a low-evaporation silicone oil, are slightly adhesive against the reeds they touch. When a key is pressed, the pad in contact with the corresponding reed lifts, carrying the reed's free end with it until the reed's own elasticity causes it to detach from the pad and begin oscillating. When the key is released, the pad returns to its resting position, stopping the vibration. Enthusiasts of the instrument compare the resulting sound to a guitar plucked with the fingertips, whereas the Cembalet is said to resemble more of a pick-style attack. Thanks to having fewer components, the new instrument was lighter and more reliable than the Cembalet; and since its mechanism was far less "violent" than that of rivals Wurlitzer and Rhodes, its resistance to wear proved unmatched (at least until, after decades, the resin in the pads begins to deteriorate).

The early Sixties saw a succession of various Pianet models, all essentially identical in mechanical terms but differing in look and electronics. The Pianet C (1963) added an optical "vibrato" (which, as is usually the case, was actually a tremolo) and replaced the valve preamp with a transistor circuit. In 1966 its price, the same as the Cembalet's, was 795 German marks (roughly €1,500 today). The Pianet L, from the same year, went so far as to include an amplifier and speakers (period brochures billed it as "the most compact keyboard instrument ever designed" and in 1966 it was priced at $400 — roughly €3,400 today). The Pianet N (1965), meanwhile, was redesigned to house a mid-sized speaker (the CP Amplifier) beneath it, seamlessly integrated into its design.

These are still instruments designed for home use, but plenty of musicians appreciate them for their portability (admittedly limited by their considerable weight) and the excellent dynamic response of the keyboard to different playing intensities. The sound is less soul than the Wurlitzer and certainly lacks the elegance of the Rhodes, but it has a robust attack and holds up well at high amplified volumes. Its quick response to pressure and short sustain also make it ideal for fast passages with closely packed notes.

Among its most famous uses are those by the Zombies (though the playback video actually shows a Vox Continental organ) and the Beatles. The latter make heavy use of the Pianet CH (a variant of the Pianet C) on the album "Help!" and again on tracks like "I Am The Walrus", "Getting Better", "Revolution", "Let It Be". Across the ocean, the Kingsmen use a Pianet L for the garage rock anthem "Louie Louie", exploiting its thick, ramshackle sound to the fullest. There's no firm confirmation of the (plausible) presence of the Pianet on the studio versions of two famous hits of the era, "Summer In The City" by the Lovin' Spoonful (1966) and "Venus" by Shocking Blue (1969); however, the bands' live use of the instrument is documented.

What is certain, on the other hand, is that John Paul Jones recorded some of Led Zeppelin's most iconic tracks ("No Quarter", "Misty Mountain Hop", "Stairway To Heaven") using an Electra Piano, the bigger sibling of the Pianet launched in 1968. Similar in appearance to an upright piano and fitted with a mechanism that combines the reeds of the other Hohner instruments with a hammer system like that of a piano, the instrument has a tone that enthusiasts describe as "halfway" between a Rhodes and a Wurlitzer. On "No Quarter", the signal is run through the filter of an EMS VCS3 synthesizer, giving the resulting sound a slow, gurgling quality. Also worth noting is Gordon Beck's use of the instrument with Nucleus on the album "Labyrinth", lending it an electric-jazz feel in the style of "Bitches Brew".

The Kingsmen – Louie Louie (1963)

The Zombies – She’s Not There (1964)

The Beatles – The Night Before (1964)

Led Zeppelin – No Quarter (1973)

Nucleus – Ariadne (1973)

The Pianet also retains a role amid the explosion of genres and sounds of the 1970s, both through its established series and the new Combo model, released in 1972. Lacking legs or stands, it was designed to be stacked on top of other instruments in the by-now ubiquitous rigs surrounding keyboardists in live performances. The niche the Pianet carves out for itself is one of a full-bodied sound, but smoother and less showy than that of its main rivals: you hear it buried in the mix, thickening up the power of the songs, and even when it steps into the foreground it does so without the primadonna theatrics of the Wurlitzer or the Rhodes. Its role as an indispensable supporting player is best heard in Curved Air, but also in the live performances of King Crimson III (where it's used by both Robert Fripp and David Cross). Its more aggressive side, meanwhile, stands out in the way Bryan Ferry uses it with Roxy Music, and (thanks in part to a fuzz box) in Tony Banks's use of it with Genesis. Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac, on the other hand, manages to give the instrument a gentler voice, perfect for center stage: her Combo Pianet is clearly visible in live performances from 1975-1976, where it stands in for the Rhodes heard on the studio recordings.

Curved Air – Back Street Luv (1971)

Genesis – The Return Of The Giant Hogweed (live, 1972) 

Roxy Music – Editions of You (live, 1973)

King Crimson – Starless (live, 1974) 

Fleetwood Mac – Rihannon (live, 1976)

Its use in strictly jazz contexts is limited, but the instrument is quite widespread among the Canterbury scene musicians. It's used by Mike Ratledge in Soft Machine, David Sinclair in Caravan, and Dave Stewart in Hatfield and the North. In these cases, its unedged tone contributes to the warm, good-natured atmosphere of the songs. Even among those who carried on the tradition, the instrument's sound remains a recurring feature: it turns up, for instance, in tracks by Italy's own Homunculus Res and Britain's Zopp.

This last band uses the Pianet T, the result of the only mechanical redesign Hohner ever carried out on its successful series. Released in 1977, it changed the pads from soft to semi-rigid and switched to electromagnetic pickups. The resulting sound is even warmer and more muffled, but generally less appreciated by musicians due to its low harmonic content, which makes it tonally poorer.

With the discontinuation of the earlier models first, and then of the entire Pianet line, sourcing replacement reeds for pre-1977 units has become increasingly difficult. Although virtually immune to wear, the synthetic resin they're made from degrades after a few decades and needs replacing – something that becomes impossible once production of the original material ends. Throughout the late Eighties and all through the Nineties, the Pianet T and M (which share similar mechanics) were thus the only reliable options; in the early 2000s, the discovery of new materials suitable for producing third-party replacement reeds sparked a modest revival of the instrument. It's in this context that the vintage Pianet tone was rediscovered by a number of nu jazz musicians, with Bugge Wesseltoft standing out as a fine example.

Caravan – Golf Girl (live, 1971)

Soft Machine – Virtually (live, 1971)

Hatfield And The North (live, 1973) 

Bugge Wesseltoft – Hi Is? (2004)

Zopp – Sanger (2020)

The electronic hybrid

A rarely celebrated symbol of the Seventies sound is the Rmi Electra (full name: RMI Electra-Piano and Harpsichord), a key component of the live rigs used by many progressive bands and, to a lesser extent, in the studio as well. The reasons for its widespread use and for its limited fame are, on closer inspection, one and the same: its role was to substitute the impossible-to-transport acoustic piano as faithfully as possible, but the quality of the imitation was decidedly poor. Once its historical function was rendered obsolete by more convincing emulations, artists and enthusiasts were only too happy to set its sound aside. And yet the Rmi Electra is a fascinating and undeniably pioneering instrument, and, however implausible it might seem, its timbre is a fundamental ingredient of songs that have remained etched in listeners' memories.

Technically speaking, the Electra is not an electric piano. It is, in fact, an electronic instrument that's hard to classify: it could be placed somewhere between a combo organ and a synthesizer. As with transistor organs, frequency generation is handled not by mechanical oscillators but by electronic circuits in which only the current's intensity varies periodically. Similarly to synthesizers, however, the instrument is equipped with circuitry that varies the sound's volume over the course of its emission, simulating as closely as possible the piano's characteristic sharp attack and slow decay. But these aren't the only features that make the Electra a sort of hybrid between an electronic organ and an analog synthesizer.

Rocky Mount Instruments (Rmi) was founded in 1966 in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, as a subsidiary of the Allen Organ Company, a renowned maker of electronic organs for churches and theaters active since 1937 in Pennsylvania. Steven Markowitz, president of the Allen Organ Company, aimed to expand his business into the home and rock markets, but fear that this latter market would be looked upon unfavorably by theater and church clients led him to set up a dedicated company for the purpose.

The operating mechanism of the earliest Rmi products (Electra included) is the same throughout: the electronic oscillators associated with each note are always active, but only produce sound when pressing the corresponding key brings two metal strips into contact, allowing current to pass through them. The principle recalls that of the electric telegraph, and indeed it had been devised by Jerome Markowitz, Steven's father and founder of the Allen Organ Company, drawing directly on his own experience as a ham radio operator.

The first instruments to hit the market, in 1967, were essentially electronic organs, though already distinguished by notably original construction choices. The Rmi Lark is a combo organ that cut production and retail costs through a radical design decision: rather than being fitted with twelve oscillators like ordinary divide-down organs, it uses only six, each assigned to a pair of adjacent notes (on the assumption that no one would ever want to play a C and a C-sharp together, since they clash). The Rmi Explorer, on the other hand, is a more "advanced" combo organ, featuring an ingenious spring-driven mechanism that periodically breaks and restores the electrical contact powering the oscillators, producing a timbre that, in its designers' intentions, was meant to emulate that of a plucked string. Finally, the Rmi Calliope is an odd electronic emulation of the calliope, a steam organ popular in the latter half of the 19th century, especially among circuses and street performers. All three products met with little commercial success.

1967 was also the year the Rock-Si-Chord was released, which sold well. It's an "electronic harpsichord" aimed at the emerging baroque pop scene, featuring multiple combinable stops, dedicated oscillators for each key (one for the 100 model, and even two for the 200), and an "envelope generator" that, triggered by pressing a key, gives the sound a sharp attack and a brief decay. This marked a decisive departure from how an organ works, where the imperceptible attack and unlimited sustain make sound intensity a purely on/off affair, with no evolution over time.

Among the users of the Rock-Si-Chord were prominent names like Sun Ra, Lovin’ Spoonful and Beach Boys, who appreciated it for its ability to generate unusual sounds. Take note, for instance, of the muffled carpet of sound that in “All I Wanna Do” creates an almost shoegaze mood right from the opening. Much more recently, the instrument has been rediscovered by artists from the indie scene, no doubt drawn to the vintage, not-immediately-recognizable and in its own way “tactile” character of the timbres it produces. (A brief listening guide: in the title track of Tortoise's “It’s All Around You” you can hear it distinctly around 0:30; in the Lykke Li track it sits in the background but emerges best around 2:50; while in “Star Treatment” by Arctic Monkeys it's front and center right from the start).

Tom Hazelton & Gene Ciszek – Caravan (1967)

The Beach Boys – All I Wanna Do (1970)

Tortoise – It’s All Around You (2004)

Lykke Li – Window Blues (2008)

Arctic Monkeys – Star Treatment (2018) 

At the end of 1967, the Rmi Electra-Piano made its debut with the model 300. Technologically similar to the Rock-Si-Chord, it was equipped with no fewer than five “voices”: lute and harpsichord (shared with the Rock-Si-Chord), piano, piano pp, and harpsichord pp (“pp” stood for “pianissimo,” simply indicating a lower output volume than the regular voices). Naturally, the timbres it produced bore at most a vague resemblance to their acoustic counterparts, but the manufacturer boasted that the instrument possessed “the most otherworldly piano tone you've ever heard,” and priced the keyboard at $895 (a little over €7,300 today). Success came almost immediately, prompting the company two years later to launch the 300B (equipped with “vibrato” and updated circuitry) and to complement the 300 series with a more luxurious 400 series, featuring walnut finishes as well as a built-in amplifier and speakers.

Beyond the company's lofty claims, the Electra-Piano was indeed a unique instrument, carefully designed and built, and highly practical for live settings. Its sound wasn't identical to that of a piano, but it occupied the same sonic “niche” and represented the best replacement on the market for bands that couldn't always afford to bring along an actual piano, complete with a tuning technician (which is to say, almost all of them, given the cost and slowness involved). In a circumstance unique among the electric and electronic instruments of the era, the Electra's tuning could be easily adjusted note by note: each one was fitted with a dial linked to a potentiometer, which altered the frequency produced. Compared to the painstaking work required by instruments like the Rhodes and the Wurlitzer, or the lack of control over individual notes on ordinary transistor organs, this was a highly prized strength – one that, if desired, also allowed instruments to be tuned to custom temperaments.

Already in its early years, alongside its purely imitative function, a more creative use began to emerge. While in “Hello, I Love You” and “Empty Pages” the two basic “harpsichord” and “piano” voices were more than enough to immortalize riffs and solos that were iconic in their own right, Blood, Sweat & Tears, with their version of “And When I Die,” already showed a subtler sensibility: most of the track is carried by the acoustic piano, while the Rmi Electra comes in only to enrich the first solo with honky-tonk inflections, around the one-minute mark. Also notable is the “punk solution” adopted by Keith Jarrett during the performance with Miles Davis at the Isle of Wight Festival: finding himself, not too enthusiastically, having to play an Electra on the trumpeter's orders (and moreover, “against” the acoustic piano entrusted to Chick Corea!), the pianist decided to simultaneously activate nearly all of the instrument's voices, achieving a rather garish timbre.

The Doors – Hello, I Love You (1968)

Blood Sweat & Tears – And When I Die (1968)

Blind Faith – Live @ Hyde Park (1969)

Traffic – Empty Pages (1970)

Miles Davis – Call It Anything (1970)

Throughout the Seventies, the Rmi catalogue kept expanding. As early as 1968, the company had launched the 600 series (labelled "Rmi Electra-Piano and Rock-Si-Chord"), which equipped its instruments with a dual oscillator dedicated to each note (generally used to blend in a frequency an octave above the fundamental) and a handful of extra voices (electric guitar, tamboura) borrowed from the new Rock-Si-Chord models. Above all, though, 1972 saw the debut of the Rmi Electra 368, followed in 1974 by the 368X: these are the two best-selling models in the whole line-up, extending the keyboard to 68 keys (up from the previous 61) and enriching the control panel with a bass boost and a more effective volume control.

In the meantime, the Electra had built itself a reputation as an extremely sturdy instrument, relatively portable (though rather bulky, owing to the heavy copper coils needed for the low-octave oscillators) and surprisingly versatile. The ability to activate several voices at once makes it easy to conjure up intriguing timbres, whereas contemporary synths demand a long session of knob-twiddling and slider-shifting to move from one defined sound to another. The Electra's quick setup was especially prized in a live context. Two buttons next to the voice selectors allow for further sound customisation: "organ mode" removes the envelope generator, giving notes an infinite sustain until the key is released; "accenter" adds a dull thud to the attack of each note – a rather clumsy touch that musicians would sometimes exploit to build farcical sonorities.

Its main flaw, as with all electronic keyboards of the era, is the total lack of forte-piano dynamics: the keyboard simply triggers basic switches, with no response whatsoever to the speed or pressure of the keystroke. This would progressively push the Electra out of solo use – a role gradually handed over to synths or to other, more expressive e-pianos – while cementing its worth for the rhythmic backing provided by its full-bodied sound. To be fair, the Allen Organ Company had already patented, back in 1963, a way of adding dynamics to its instruments, but the implementation was deemed too costly: only well into the Seventies would Rmi release the touch-sensitive Electra 68D (or perhaps 368D, where the D presumably stands for "dynamic"), available only on special order and apparently produced in very small numbers.

Be that as it may, the Electra range had by then become an irreplaceable fixture of the keyboard rigs used by progressive bands. Usually bought for its supposed mimicking abilities, in the right hands it proves to be a fine generator of timbres, poised somewhere between the familiar and the unusual. Widely used by Rick Wakeman of Yes and by Tony Banks of Genesis, it is sometimes used as a futuristic stand-in for piano and harpsichord: in this second role, it appears in the track drawn from "The Six Wives Of Henry VIII". On other occasions, however, its knack for hybrid timbres is exploited to the full, creating a range of sounds that still feel disorienting today. A prime example is the album "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway", where the Electra 368 is arguably the most heavily used keyboard of all. But the opening of Todd Rundgren's "International Feel" (from 0:25) – which seems tailor-made to provoke the question "wait, where's that sound coming from?" – is just as telling of how disorienting the instrument's sound can still be today.

The most unusual application, though, must be credited to Jon Lord, organist of Deep Purple, and his technician Mike Phillips: the keyboardist has recounted that, wanting to freely blend the sound of his legendary Hammond C-3 with electronic timbres, he had the circuitry of an Electra 368 removed from its case and keyboard, wired into the organ's manuals and installed inside the instrument itself. It is hard to find any audible confirmation of this ingenious, pre-MIDI case of one instrument controlling another: it might simply be a tale spread by Lord himself. What is certain, though, is that the Electra genuinely was part of the keyboardist's arsenal, put to use on tracks such as "Demon's Eye", "Space Truckin'" and "Never Before".

Deep Purple – Demon's Eye (live, 1971)

Rick Wakeman – Jane Seymour (1973)

Todd Rundgren – International Feel (1973)

Greenslade – Live @ Old Grey Whistle Test (1973) 

Genesis – Fly On A Windshield/Carpet Crawlers (live, 1976)

Even outside the prog world, the Electra was a constant presence in the early Seventies. At the start of the decade, it was in fact the only polyphonic instrument capable of producing timbres with a "synthetic" character. Over time, string synthesizers would nibble away a bit of its niche, and a few rival companies would launch competing models (e.g. the Crumar Roadrunner, the Univox Compac Piano – both made in Italy – or the Roland EP-10), but Rmi held on to its dominant role without much trouble. In 1974, it put two futuristic products on the market, the Rmi Keyboard Computer and the Rmi Harmonic Synthesizer: respectively the first compact digital organ (the first digital church organ had been built back in 1972 through a joint venture between Allen Organ Company and North American Rockwell!) and the first commercial digital synthesizer – both instruments will be explored in future articles.

During its heyday, the Electra turns up in all sorts of pop productions: there it is, front and centre, in Wings' "Wild Life", with its wonderfully ramshackle harpsichord voice used in organ mode; in "Imagine", by contrast, its role is far more discreet — it merely "doubles" the acoustic piano's notes to add extra body to the sound. Ron Mael of Sparks is among the instrument's most devoted disciples: the sonic chimeras the Electra is capable of conjuring are, indeed, a perfect match for the band's off-kilter style (in mimed videos, though, he tends to pretend he's playing a Rhodes). Another admirer is bluesman Edgar Winter, who used it up until 1973, when, won over by the handiness of the Univox Compac Piano, he decided to strap the latter on with a guitar strap, putting himself forward as one of the first keytarists in history.

The Rmi Electra's decline arrived swiftly in the second half of the Seventies, when the introduction of new instruments wiped out the raison d'être of this organ/e-piano/synth hybrid. Two events proved decisive: on one hand, 1975 brought the Oberheim Polyphonic Synthesizer and the Yamaha GX-1, the first polyphonic synths; on the other, the following year saw the arrival of the Yamaha CP-70, the first stage instrument whose sound could genuinely be likened to a real acoustic piano.

The last product launched on the market, in 1979, was the Rmi Dk-20, a costly digital heir to the Electra: a flop. In 1982, the Electra 668X — the last of the series still in production — was also discontinued. From then until 1999, the Rocky Mount plant remained active as a branch of the Allen workshops in Pennsylvania. In the decades that followed, despite the widespread revival climate, few artists took an interest in the Rmi Electra. One exception is Canadian singer-songwriter Basia Bulat, who uses it extensively on her recent "Good Advice" and even brings it along for live performances, playing it herself.

John Lennon – Imagine (1971)

Wings – Wild Life (1972)

Edgar Winter – Frankenstein (1973)

Sparks – This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us (1974)

Basia Bulat – La La Lie (live, 2016)

The e-piano to kill all e-pianos

Since the early 1970s, alongside being one of the world's leading industrial powers, Japan has also been the planet's biggest producer of pianos. Among the many companies that, since the end of the Edo period's isolation, specialized in building Western-style musical instruments, the central role was played by Yamaha, which from the beginning of the twentieth century expanded its market into Southeast Asia and the United States as well. Throughout the 1960s and much of the 1970s, Yamaha consolidated its dominance in the acoustic piano sector, staying out of the boom in electric and electronic emulators. When it finally entered the fray, in 1976, it did so with two models that redrew the market: the Cp-70 and the Cp-30.

"Cp" stands for "Combo Piano": an analogy with the term combo organ used for portable organs. The two instruments, which besides the designation also share portability and range (six octaves), are in fact profoundly different from one another: while the Cp-30 is an electronic piano that takes the Rmi Electra's architecture and improves on it, the Cp-70 is a different kind of keyboard altogether. It was the first commercially successful electric piano to faithfully replicate the mechanics of its acoustic counterpart: hammers striking vibrating strings. Rather than being picked up by electrostatic or electromagnetic pickups, their oscillation is converted into current by innovative piezoelectric pickups developed by Yamaha over the course of the 1970s. This new technology allows the pressure exerted by the strings at their point of contact to be converted directly into an electrical signal: what reaches the amplifier, then, is no longer the wave corresponding to an internal point of the string, but the oscillation exactly as an acoustic piano would transfer it to its soundboard. The strings are anchored to a rigid metal frame that keeps tuning stable and makes it easy to break the instrument down into two parts, each of which can be turned into its own carrying case.

Musicians would mostly agree: at last, an instrument was available with tonal, expressive and dynamic qualities comparable to a real piano… yet foldable, amplifiable and essentially immune to tuning problems! It cost 4,000 dollars (nearly 20,000 euros today!), but many felt it was worth every cent.

Make no mistake: the sound of the Cp-70 (full name: Yamaha Cp-70 Electric Grand) is quite noticeably different from that of a piano. For the sake of compactness, its strings are shorter and thicker than those of a grand piano, or even just an upright: for the lowest notes, the lengths are only a little more than half those of a domestic instrument. The "cleanness" of a stringed instrument's timbre depends on the elasticity of its strings, which decreases as the thickness-to-length ratio increases: on the lower octaves, then, the Cp-70's sound comes out quite metallic and thin, rich in inharmonic frequencies (typical of non-elastic behavior) rather than the harmonic ones found in a grand piano with its long, thin strings.

Be that as it may, the Cp-70 was almost immediately embraced by a host of keyboardists, only too happy to ditch their Pianets and Electras in favor of an instrument that recalled not just the sonic feel of a grand piano, but even its visual one. A very shrewd move on Yamaha's part was designing the string frame in a trapezoidal shape clearly evocative of the classic grand piano.

Tony Banks, Keith Emerson, Patrick Moraz, Rick Wakeman are among the most obvious early adopters. But as a live stand-in for the acoustic piano, the list of users runs much longer, and includes names like Simon & Garfunkel (who put it to use for the famous "Concert In Central Park" reunion), rising star Peter Cross, and arena-rockers Kansas, who bet everything on it for their dazzling double live album (and platinum record) "Two For The Show". Peter Gabriel, performing alongside Kate Bush on British TV, had as his only instrument onstage the "big brother" Cp-80, released in 1978.

Some musicians still firmly rooted in the early Seventies had the chance to use the new instrument right from their debut, building much of their sound around it: such is the case, for instance, of Argentina's Pablo el Enterrador, purveyors of prog as thoroughly Genesis-indebted as it gets, yet perfectly in step with the new trend of placing the CP-70's translucent timbre at the center of the sound.

Kansas – Point Of Know Return (1978)

Peter Gabriel ft. Kate Bush – Here Comes The Flood (live, 1979)

Christopher Cross – Ride Like The Wind (live, 1980)

Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge Over Trouble Water (live, 1981)

Pablo el Enterrador – Caroussel de la vieja idiotez (1983)

Entering the Eighties, an ever-growing number of artists came to recognize the Electric Grand as an instrument with an iconic sound, relying on it to build memorable riffs thanks in part to its "smoothed-off" timbre. Meanwhile, Yamaha's lineup had expanded with the Cp-60 and Cp-80 models (offering half an octave and an octave and a half more, respectively), and even the Cp-70 got an "upgrade" in the form of the Cp-70B, which further improved tuning stability. In 1985 Midi-equipped versions arrived, and when the General Midi protocol made its debut in 1991 to organize digital instrument voices, program number 3 ("Electric Grand Piano") was dedicated to replicating the Cp-70B's sound — a patch still present today in the vast majority of music-making software.

It's a Cp-70 that plays the very first note ever heard on MTV, right at the opening of "Video Killed The Radio Star": the instrument's ambiguous timbre, artificial yet bright and expressive, is perfect for celebrating the dawn of the "Age Of Plastic" heralded by the Buggles album's title.

In those same years, the CP-70's potential for building sticky intros was explored in every possible way by the shrewdest operators of glossy pop: Genesis, Toto and Billy Joel are just a few names from a long list that also includes Joe Jackson ("Steppin' Out"), Police ("Darkness"), Simple Minds ("Alive And Kicking") and even U2 ("New Year's Day", "Sweetest Thing"). Much later, Britain's Keane would return to the Cp-70 to dust off piano-rock with hits carrying an unmistakably retro flavor.

Although competition was fierce in the early Eighties (Aeolian, Kawai and Helpinstill had all launched their own electrified string piano models), the dominance of the Cp-70 and its siblings would only be dented in the middle of the decade, and by a wholly different technology: in 1984 the Kurzweil K250 digital piano made its debut, boasting a sound "indistinguishable" from an acoustic piano thanks to samples reprocessed in real time by the instrument's microprocessor. Nothing a trained ear couldn't easily spot as fake, but it was objectively a further step in a challenge – that of piano emulation – which still drives manufacturers to develop ever-new technical solutions today.

Toto – Hold The Line (1978)

Buggles – Video Killed The Radio Star (1980)

Billy Joel – All For Leyna (1980)

Genesis – That’s All (live, 1987)

Keane – Everybody's Changing (2003)

The Yamaha CP-30, also from 1976, can in a way be considered the exact counterpart to the CP-70. While the latter, electromechanical, has its strength in the ability to replicate the feel of a piano, the former, fully electronic, manages to be a credible substitute for most of the e-pianos that had carved out a role in the preceding years. Thanks to the clever architecture of its controls – minimal, yet versatile – it can produce timbres easily comparable to the Pianet and Rmi Electra, but also to the Clavinet and even the Rhodes (especially when buried in the mix). Despite the fact that three of its four combinable voices are all named "piano," the acoustic piano is, paradoxically, the keyboard sound the instrument recreates least faithfully.

From a construction standpoint, the Cp-30 is essentially a touch-sensitive polyphonic synthesizer that sacrifices sound customizability in favor of compactness and usability. It's equipped with two oscillators running at around 2 MHz (more precisely, the lowest common multiple of the frequencies across its range), whose signal is then brought into the audible range through divider circuits, triggered according to the keys pressed. Each oscillator has its own dedicated channel, featuring attack/decay control, an on/off switch for tremolo, tuning adjustment, and independent filters to shape the timbre according to the "Piano 1," "Piano 2," "Piano 3" and "Harpsichord" voices. As with the Rmi Electra and with organs, these voices can be selected simultaneously; a dedicated knob then lets you set, mixer-style, the balance between the volumes of the two channels. A further element of variety comes from the fact that, despite sharing identical names, the voices of the first oscillator are slightly different from those of the second. The range of possibilities afforded by these relatively few options is remarkably wide: besides passably emulating the most popular e-pianos of the era (including its main direct rival, another gem of Japanese electronics, the Roland Ep-30), the Cp-30 allows for the creation of new sonic alchemies in virtually unlimited quantity. Instruments with a Clavinet-like attack but a Rhodes-like decay, sounds that resemble a Pianet with just a hint of harpsichord edge... or any combination in between!

Among the instrument's admirers, Christine McVie of the Fleetwood Mac was its most enthusiastic champion. Between 1978 and 1983 she used it consistently both in the studio and live, saying of it: “It's my favorite electric piano. It can sound almost like a Hohner and it can sound like a Rhodes! Really nice and clean.” In “Astradyne” by Ultravox, on the other hand, it's put to subtler use: by tuning the two oscillators to slightly different base frequencies (detuning), you can create a chorus effect that adds depth to the sound, making it especially “spacious” and evocative.

For the curious, the documentary on David Bedford's composition “Song Of The White Horse” repeatedly shows the use of its rival, the Roland EP-30, alongside other electronic gear within a fascinating ambient/progressive setting not far removed from Mike Oldfield.

The Cars – Bye Bye Love (live, 1978)

David Bedford – Song Of The White Horse (1978)

Fleetwood Mac – Angel (live, 1979) 

Ultravox – Astradyne (1980) 

Hall and Oates – Private Eyes (1981)

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