I had a programmable calculator that could generate tones at specific frequencies. Then I learned that consecutive musical notes (an octave apart) have exactly double the frequency, so I was able to convert any written melody into music. But I never knew which frequency matched which note. It didn't matter much, as long as you preserve the relative intervals, the melody is recognizable.
Others thought I was some kind of wizard performing black magic, but the concept was so simple. Just one single, simple little piece of knowledge. Actually, I barely knew anything about music or sound programming.
My PhD supervisor[1]'s work as a student was on CSIRAC, which he would trot out at me whenever I talked about performance issues in the code I worked on for him or the crappy PC the department had given me. "Back in my day, I had 128 bits of memory to work with... made of mercury" (I recall him saying words to that effect, but CSIRAC had 768 words, so either my memory or his was playing up)
[1] Rex Whitehead, 1937-1921. He was at University of Melbourne late 50s/early 60s when CSIRAC was there.
Related, I have been enjoying this great series on Australian compute history and innovations (including CSIRAC, SILLIAC, CIRRUS, ARCTURUS, CSIRONET) covering the same period:
I loved the detail about the hooter. It was just a way to hear when a program had finished, but Geoff Hill had to fight the mercury memory timing to get those blips landing regularly enough to make a tune. I can't stop thinking about that jump from a debug signal to Colonel Bogey.
I had a programmable calculator that could generate tones at specific frequencies. Then I learned that consecutive musical notes (an octave apart) have exactly double the frequency, so I was able to convert any written melody into music. But I never knew which frequency matched which note. It didn't matter much, as long as you preserve the relative intervals, the melody is recognizable.
Others thought I was some kind of wizard performing black magic, but the concept was so simple. Just one single, simple little piece of knowledge. Actually, I barely knew anything about music or sound programming.
My PhD supervisor[1]'s work as a student was on CSIRAC, which he would trot out at me whenever I talked about performance issues in the code I worked on for him or the crappy PC the department had given me. "Back in my day, I had 128 bits of memory to work with... made of mercury" (I recall him saying words to that effect, but CSIRAC had 768 words, so either my memory or his was playing up)
[1] Rex Whitehead, 1937-1921. He was at University of Melbourne late 50s/early 60s when CSIRAC was there.
Related, I have been enjoying this great series on Australian compute history and innovations (including CSIRAC, SILLIAC, CIRRUS, ARCTURUS, CSIRONET) covering the same period:
[0]: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIizEY7AraGzlUr2Hyeb03yhR...
I loved the detail about the hooter. It was just a way to hear when a program had finished, but Geoff Hill had to fight the mercury memory timing to get those blips landing regularly enough to make a tune. I can't stop thinking about that jump from a debug signal to Colonel Bogey.
Obligatory: https://youtu.be/ClSnMCTkBpw
There's also the wholesome version:
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tDgxPsNX0Hg
Was about to link the same, would recommend everyone who's into electronic music to listen to that whole album.
Less obligatory: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lfq2OZ8lpA8
There was a period in the 70s/80s when computer music meant raw code, original DSP experiments, and real creative weirdness.