Yamaha CS-80

"Everything about the CS-80 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 [the CS-80 offered]. [...] 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."

"[The CS-80 was] 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 CS-80 (or could afford to hire in for the intimidating calibration process), you would have been able to avail yourself of a device capable of unparalleled expression. The CS-80 felt like a real instrument. It could be made to bend to your mood and will. It responded beautifully to aftertouch. The CS-80 could scream like a banshee, cry plaintively, or tap out a pattern as delicate as rain on a stained glass window."

"It cleverly provided four memories among the presets, accessed via a small panel which, when lifted, exposed all of the synth’s control faders in miniature. There were even rumours of musicians needing to have their floors reinforced to cope. Just ask Vangelis, who of course made the CS-80 one of the central components for his soundtrack to the Ridley Scott film Blade Runner."