
‘We're projecting into the future': sounds of BBC Radiophonic Workshop made available for public use
Now, the Workshop's considerable archive of equipment is being recreated in new software, allowing anyone to evoke the same array of analogue sound that its pioneering engineers once did.
The BBC Radiophonic Workshop's archivist Mark Ayres has collaborated with BBC Studios and Spitfire Audio, a company that provides libraries of sampled sound for music producers to work with. Added to their library is a collection of the Workshop's machinery, allowing users to, in effect, control the modular synthesisers, tape machines, vocoders and other equipment that was originally used as far back as the 1950s.
There is also a library of sounds from the original Workshop tapes, plus newly recorded sounds by the – now fairly aged – members of the Workshop.
'I'm the youngest member of the core Radiophonic Workshop – and I'm 64,' said Ayres. 'We're not going to be around for ever. It was really important to leave a creative tool, inspired by our work, for other people to use going forward. I hope we've made an instrument that will inspire future generations.'
'We're not just looking back at what the members were doing way back when,' added Harry Wilson, Spitfire Audio's head of recording. 'We're projecting a strand of their work into the future and saying: if the Workshop was engaged with a similar process now, what would it sound like?'
The Workshop may be best known for the Doctor Who theme, but it also created music and sound effects for other sci-fi shows such as Quatermass and the Pit, Blake's 7 and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Other cornerstone BBC shows such as Blue Peter and Tomorrow's World were also beneficiaries of the Workshop's creativity.
The Workshop was originally created in 1958, tasked with adding an extra dimension to plays and other shows on Radio 3. Co-founders Daphne Oram and Desmond Briscoe were brilliant and high-minded, inspired by musique concrète – the style that asserted that raw, tape-recorded sound could be a kind of music. Before long a highly experimental, even fantastical means of composition was afoot, with lampshades being bashed to produce percussion, and long tape loops being carried along BBC corridors.
'There was freedom to do what you wanted and everyone was determined to do new things with sound,' one composer, Paddy Kingsland, has said. 'It was dusty and pokey, underfunded and peculiar, but I bet there were very few places that wonderful in the world.'
Numerous Workshop staff became acclaimed composers in their own right, particularly the female alumni, including Oram, Delia Derbyshire and Glynis Jones.
The Workshop ran until 1998, though its staff have since combined to form the Radiophonic Workshop, performing the unit's material live. In 2012, the BBC and Arts Council England created a new version of the Workshop to run online, headed up by the musician Matthew Herbert.
During the 1960s, bands such as Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones' Brian Jones popped in to have their minds expanded by the Workshop's experimental spirit, and numerous artists have been influenced by it. The naive yet eerie music the Workshop made for children's programming seemed to seep into the subconscious of a generation of leftfield musicians, from Boards of Canada to Broadcast and the artists on the Ghost Box label.
The Human League and Heaven 17 musician Martyn Ware, who later collaborated with the Workshop's members, has said: 'When we started out with our two basic keyboards bought on hire purchase, the Radiophonic Workshop represented a kind of dreamland, this magical place where any sound could be made.'
Oscar-winning film composer Hans Zimmer is also an admirer. After purchasing the BBC's Maida Vale studios, where the Workshop was based, he has overseen the creation of a new synthesiser called the Radiophonic. Announced in 2024 and created by AJH Synth, it is designed to combine various analogue synths into a 'one-of-a-kind, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink-style super-synth', Zimmer has said.
The newly available software will cost £149, and is available from 19 February, though it will have an introductory price of £119 until 17 March.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Telegraph
2 days ago
- Telegraph
Stop it, Zippy. Why we all love a naughty puppet
Last week came the news that Hacker T Dog is to join the presenting team of Blue Peter. Hacker, for those of you unfamiliar with CBBC fare, is a gruff but extremely adorable puppet canine, given to dropping outspoken comments and mugging significantly to camera. He is making history as the first non-human host of Blue Peter, though some had doubts about Anthea Turner. Hacker's increased profile can only be a good thing. The splintered mirror of modern television has seen every factional taste and genre siloed off into its own isolated shard – including children's programmes, which not so very long ago were part of the cultural glue that bound the nation together. And puppets have started to disappear. It was once impossible to avoid them, from Muffin the Mule in the 1950s to Gordon the Gopher in the 1990s. Although nearly always aimed at children, they delighted us all. And Hacker continues the grand tradition of the best TV puppets: that they are naughty. Often, puppets were employed as tools for the socialisation of younger children, object lessons in how to go so far, and no further; Sooty and chums, and the Rainbow gang, fit this classic template. In both, we met three distinct characters: the good puppet (Soo the panda; George the hippo), the naughty puppet (Sweep the dog; and whatever Zippy was meant to be) and the median, well-adjusted puppet (Sooty and Bungle, both bears). The situation always turned on misbehaviour. So, for example, pushy Zippy would try to eat all the biscuits, doormat George wouldn't get his pink finger on a single biscuit, then Bungle would distribute the biscuits fairly. The guard rails were provided by the hapless human adult, Geoffrey, who ensured the return to social order. This was drama reduced in function to its barest Aristotelian bones. But whatever the moral lesson, the naughty puppet was always the most fun, and always the break-out star. My personal favourite of the era was Hartley Hare, of the 1973-81 ATV show Pipkins. How to capture him in words? He combined the manners of David Starkey and the looks of an item of roadkill, a fortnight since it had met its untimely end. Indeed, Hartley swaggered with a vanity perhaps unusual in such a flea-bitten and bedraggled article. A clip of Hartley sometimes goes viral on social media; when young people see him, they are terrified. Hartley had his own 'Geoffrey', in the form of Johnny, played by Wayne Laryea, who trailed in the hare's destructive wake, alternately apologising and affirming like a long-suffering wife. Basil Brush had a whole string of such enablers, and Rod Hull was literally inseparable from his Emu. As a child, I longed to be one of these puppet wranglers. It was my dream job. I even stage-doored Sooty's Matthew Corbett for career advice, and he was infinitely patient and kind to the small, voluble creature I was aged seven. But then, he'd had a lot of practice. Some naughty puppets made it out of children's TV and into the sphere of family entertainment. These characters tended to be naughtier in a different way. Basil Brush expressed carnal desire for star guests such as Clodagh Rodgers and Lulu, shuddering from his ears to the tip of his tail while emitting a full-throated 'phwoarr'. This only sowed confusion in infant minds. What exactly was his aim? How would such a congress be achieved? But the crown of puppet bawdry must go to Miss Piggy, and 1982's ABC special The Fantastic Miss Piggy Show, easily locatable on YouTube, catches her devilry at its height. Miss Piggy behaves spectacularly badly in this spectacular. Guest star John Ritter lusts after her. She spurns him – but, in turn, Piggy herself pants for an uninterested George Hamilton, pinning him down on her chat-show sofa. But this is merely a cover to spur Kermit's jealousy. We live today in an age when the lightest of confections, from sci-fi to comedy, often come carrying a freight of significance, and often collapse laughably under that load. The Fantastic Miss Piggy Show is one of those rare fripperies that, by accident, genuinely does contain wisdom for the ages, addressing the human foibles of love, jealousy and sex – flesh and blood reflected back through foam and latex. The show culminates in its star discovering that this is only a special, and not the first episode of a series – at which point she proceeds to karate chop the head of the network, and brings the set crashing down. This is the apex of Miss Piggy's misconduct, and goes entirely unpunished. In the last few precious years before the culture wars kicked off, naughty puppets made a bit of a comeback, and even took a leap into adult entertainment. The comedian and ventriloquist Nina Conti; the hit Broadway musical Avenue Q; and BBC Three's scabrously adolescent Mongrels: all took the unruliness of the naughty puppet and amplified it to comic effect. All used puppets to broach icky subjects, in ways that would be unthinkable today. One of Avenue Q's hit tunes is a toe-tapper with the lyric: 'Everyone's a little bit racist sometimes. / Doesn't mean we go around committing hate crimes.' I hope that Hacker's elevation is a sign that misbehaving marionettes are on their way back again, for children and for adults. Television and puppets go hand in glove.


Daily Mail
2 days ago
- Daily Mail
Naked hugs and lots of stroking, but did I actually have sex at my tantric retreat? Cosmo Landesman reveals all...
Ever since I turned 70 last September, I've been feeling a bit low. Not bad, just a bit… blah. I felt stuck in my daily routines and rituals. I was living all right, but not really alive. I needed a big jolt of energy, passion, joy and love to regain my mojo. But maybe I was asking too much of life? 'Not at all,' said an old girlfriend. 'I was feeling just like you – until I did a Living Tantra course. It changed my life and it will change yours, too.' I gave her a look that said: are you insane? Me, do tantra? Have exhausting marathon sex sessions with strangers? Dance naked at dawn in dewy fields – or whatever these New-Agey nutters do? No, thanks. Not my cup of organic seaweed tea. I'm an old, white, middle-class, uptight, cynical, smartarse journalist. I don't chant. I don't share. I don't cry. I don't hug. No, I don't do tantra – I do tantrums! And guess what happened next? I chanted. I shared. I cried. I danced naked in a dewy field. I hugged strangers – women and men! But did I have lots of sex? People always ask me that. I'll tell you later. Yes, I went to the Living Tantra 1 workshop, which took place over seven days at the EarthSpirit Centre in Somerset. It was led by Jan Day, the best known and most beloved tantra teacher in the UK. She has been teaching tantra for over 18 years and her course promises to help you live with 'presence, passion and love'. And the cost of such enlightenment? Well, including food and standard accommodation, it's £1,440. But what is this tantra stuff? Say the T-word and most people think it's all about sex – thanks to a casual comment made years ago by the singer Sting about his seven-hour tantric sex sessions with his wife Trudie. But tantra is actually an ancient spiritual practice that originated in India. At its core is the idea of 'weaving together all that is' – which means all that you are. The good bits and the bad bits, the dark and the light, your fears and your desires – they all provide spiritual nourishment to help make you feel more fully alive and present. But what, I wondered, should you pack for a seven-day tantra retreat? My friend reminded me that tantra was about getting away from material possessions and personal vanity. So I kept it simple – one T-shirt, an old sarong and a pair of flip-flops. And my hair-dryer. And my hair-straightening tongs. And my hair gel, my exfoliating gel scrub and one snazzy suit – just to be on the safe side. Of course, I was hungry for spiritual connection, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hungry for a soul mate as well. Before I went, I imagined the course would be full of old hippies, young male incels, female nymphos and bearded pervs wearing orange robes. There were 52 of us attending and they were actually a lovely mix of people of all ages and from all walks of life. I met a carpenter, a bricklayer, a few therapists, teachers and lots of people in IT and tech. OK, at first I thought they were a little weird. Usually when strangers meet like this there's a kind of distance and awkwardness between them. But I noticed on the first day of my arrival that wherever I went – the meditation hall, the garden, the communal hot tub – I found people talking and laughing and hugging as if they'd all known each other for life. And I soon discovered that when you talk to someone there, you feel as if they are really listening to you. Not the people-pleasing you, but the authentic you. They're more interested in what you are looking for in life than what you do for a living. And one of the best things about my week in tantra world was that no one talked about Donald Trump! Now, about the hugging thing. For the first two days all that hugging made me anxious – especially when it comes to hugging men. (I'm an uptight heterosexual who has always preferred a good old-fashioned handshake.) There was one man there I called the Hug Blob – a short, fat, sweaty, bearded bloke who was always going up to people and saying, 'Can I have a hug?' and his wishes were always granted! I must confess that seeing so many beautiful women hug the Blob gave me hug-envy. Why didn't anyone ask me for a hug? Was I giving off an anti-hug vibe? Did I have BO? But then after lunch one afternoon I saw the Hug Blob coming my way with arms outstretched. I had two options. One: make a run for it and never come back. Two: stand my ground. Man-up and hug-up. Sure enough, he looked me in the eye and said softly, 'Can I have a hug?' OK, I thought, here we go. I shut my eyes and fell into his arms. He buried his head into my chest, and I held his sweaty body closer. This was my first full-on man-to-man, nipple-to-nipple hug. And it felt good! At the end of nearly five minutes of hugging he said thank you and I replied, 'No, thank you!' I tell this story because it shows how we are so quick to judge and dismiss other people. By the end of the week I felt ashamed that I'd called him the Hug Blob. My tantra week taught me to look deeper, and I saw beauty in men and women I would have previously quickly dismissed as unattractive or not my type. Shedding my inhibitions about hugging a man was nothing compared to the challenge of shedding my clothes and going naked in front of over 50 people. Jan Day made it absolutely clear that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. One of the things she teaches is how to say yes and no and have your boundaries respected. But I was too embarrassed by the scary sight of my bloated belly, my droopy buttocks and my latest bodily horror: my bulging hernia! No, nudity was never going to happen for me. And then on the fifth day it did. We were having a session where we were invited to remove as much clothing as we felt comfortable with and I thought: I'm fed-up with always body-shaming myself. Off came my kit and I danced with wild abandon. And yes, bits wobbled and flapped – but I didn't care! It was so liberating to finally have made peace with my body. Mornings began at 8am with a meditation/dance session in a large hall lined with mattresses and pillows. Here I danced. I shook my body and rattled my chakras. I spoke gibberish and also silently contemplated the universe. At one point we did an exercise to connect with our primitive instincts. I was invited to get into an 'inner animal' and let it out. I tried to roar like a lion. I tried to grunt like a large ape. But the best I could do was get in touch with my inner gerbil and squeak as I strangled my pillow. Yes, I felt silly at first. But I came to love my morning sessions – it was a cardio workout for the soul. Afternoons and evenings were a mix of working with small groups of four or five people or the group as a whole. Through a series of exercises and practices we learned to relate to ourselves and other people with greater intimacy. Put simply: we were learning to dump our emotional baggage, cut the bulls**t and truly be ourselves. A lot of group bonding took place over meal times. The food was vegetarian – delicious salads and vegetable curries. (Even the wholesome organic puddings were tasty.) And you could always find new people to talk with while you ate. The vibe was relaxed and friendly. By the end of the day I was usually exhausted, emotionally and physically. So I'd head off to bed while others in the group headed off for a naked soak in the hot tub, before hanging out most of the night. You'd think that at a tantra retreat there would, come nighttime, be mass shagging going on with the hills of Somerset alive to the sounds of orgasms. But if people were coupling and copulating, I didn't see or hear anything – and nobody invited me to join in! There's no getting away from the fact that sex is a crucial part of Living Tantra. What we were trying to learn was the art of giving and receiving pleasure without the usual anxieties that accompany sex: do I look fat? Am I doing it right? Should I be doing this? The aim was cultivating deep intimacy, with your own desires and other people's, without the crippling insecurities. Our erotic explorations were done together as one big group in the meditation hall, but we worked in small groups of three and four, usually two men and two women. In one exercise we'd take turns in saying where and how we would like to be touched – and where we wouldn't. Did I want to have sex? Yes. Did I have sex? No. I have to be honest here. I found myself with two very attractive young women but felt so self-conscious about being old enough to be their dad that, when it was my turn to say what I'd like, I opted for safe areas of touch – no bottom, no genital touching, thank you very much. So the rest of me was lovingly stroked and, yes, it was very sensual but it wasn't sexual. And I was careful when it was my turn to stroke them to keep clear of their intimate parts even though they had granted consent. I know I was being silly, but I just didn't want to be the dirty old man in the room. Clearly, I need to do a lot more work on my hang-ups. And as for finding and falling in love with a tantric goddess, I had no such luck. And yet by the end of the week I did come to feel a great deal of love for the people there. The whole experience left me feeling more fully alive, energised and with an inner calm I've never experienced before. The challenge now is to keep it that way.


The Guardian
2 days ago
- The Guardian
The Guide #201: our readers' 21st-century pantheon: the culture you loved (that we missed)
Last week's newsletter was a bumper edition, running through the culture that defined the century so far. It covered a wide swathe, from single-take experimental Russian cinema to Top Gun: Maverick, or immersive genre-melding theatre to the dopamine hit of Pokémon Go. But of course, it didn't cover everything. Far from it. So this week we're turning things over to Guide readers, who have shared their own favourite culture of the past 25 years. It includes some big hitters absent from our list (how did we miss Doctor Who and Shane Meadows?!) as well as some choices that are completely unfamiliar – including a Czech gonzo documentary film that I really need to check out. Here are your picks for the 21st-century pantheon. 'A contender has to be Twin Peaks series three, episode eight - Gotta Light? An hour of auteurism like no other. I'd expect to be watching it in my local independent cinema, along with a few other weirdos. But no, it was on TV!' – David McCutcheon 'As a devotee of the horror genre, 2002 saw the end of the wilderness years and the second coming of the undead. As someone who has worshipped all her life at the altar of the late, great George Romero, technically speaking, Danny Boyle's brilliant 28 Days Later wasn't a zombie film, but it re-energised interest in a sub-genre that was considered dead and buried, and introduced the world to the idea of the fast-running infected. Hot on the rotting heels of that, the apocalyptic Walking Dead comics of Robert Kirkman and Charlie Adlard gave birth to the TV series that ran for 11 biting seasons and set the creative juices flowing for a variety of decomposing epics and new classics, such as 2016's fast-paced Train Busan. Should there ever be a real zombie apocalypse, everyone on the planet must know by now how to dispatch one! This century has seen zombies rise again, and whether shambling or sprinting, long may they continue to growl and bite.' – Susie Pearce 'My pick for album of the century so far, and definitely one of the most underrated, would be Neon Golden by German band The Notwist. It was one of the first indietronica albums in the 2000s, followed later by the Postal Service, the xx and so on – though no one seems to talk about it in the same way as those bands. But I'd put the mournful, though uptempo songs here up against the best of any of those. It still sounds so crisp and so beautiful all these years later.' – Graham, Swanage 'Yes, it diminished by returns violently with that second offering, but the first season of True Detective was something quite amazing. I still remember huge discussions each week on Twitter, when that place was still quite fun. Incredible story telling across multiple timelines and points of view.' – Jamie Gambell 'The work that stands out to me as being a revolutionary piece of art/entertainment/self-examination - God knows what - is Nina Conti's webseries In Therapy. It presents a person who, over time, has become consumed with her alter ego, Monkey. To me, there is no 'act' anymore. What we see is Conti's constructed reality. Bo Burnham may have changed comedy with his lockdown special. That was nothing compared to what Conti has moved on to. I am now looking forward to seeing the movie she has made with the master of the mockumentary, Christopher Guest. I am assuming that he got involved with Conti because he sees the genius inherent in her work - together with the precipice she is dancing on.' – Chris Gilbey 'Shane Meadows' body of work is stunning, especially This Is England and the TV sequels, and The Virtues. The calibre of actors (Paddy Considine, Vicky McClure, Stephen Graham, Jo Hartley) and writers (Jack Thorne) he has helped to develop testify to his brilliance. A creator of real, sometimes brutal stories, authentically told.' – Richard Hamilton 'Who doesn't love Sabrina Carpenter? She looks a million dollars and has the voice of an angel. For me she sure beats paying the GDP of a small country to watch the Gallagher Brothers. But each to their own I guess.' – Maggie Chute 'Doctor Who in the 21st century: - Biggest thing on British TV for at least five straight years - Reinvented Saturday night television - Captivated a generation of children nationwide - Made Russell T Davies, David Tennant, Billie Piper, Matt Smith et al household names - Merchandise everywhere - All the awards - Four spin-offs - Three documentary companion shows - Animated specials - Christmas Day staple - A lasting British cultural icon still going 20 years later Also: - Not a single mention on the Guide's 'century in pop culture so far'. For shame!' – Nicky Rowe Sign up to The Guide Get our weekly pop culture email, free in your inbox every Friday after newsletter promotion 'I would give my vote to the 2004 film Czech Dream by Vit Klusak and Filip Remunda. A documentary about a wicked prank, the film follows the build up to opening of a new hypermarket on the outskirts of Prague. We witness the genesis and execution of the ad campaign and other preparatory measures. On the big day, eager-to-shop Praguers make the pilgrimage to the site, only to find nothing but a large vinyl banner with the hypermarket logo ...' – Natalie Gravenor 'My favourite piece of culture from the last 25 years has to be Avengers: Endgame. Forgetting the snobbery around superhero films and their more recent missteps, Marvel did something truly incredible with cinema that has never been done before or since. Twenty-two films over 11 years that each felt unique and distinct, but also part of a coherent whole, with only one or two duds along the way ... and then they stuck the landing. See the audience reaction videos from opening night if you're not convinced.' – Chris Carter 'I have to offer up the opening ceremony to the Olympics in London. Beijing 2008 was the most spectacular, balls to the wall, choreographed to a millimetre of its life opening ceremony ever. It was even cooler than an astronaut landing in LA or an archer (sort of) lighting the cauldron in Barcelona. Jesus, what on earth would London do? Don't embarrass us too much, people were thinking. I was. How wrong could we be? Danny Boyle did some great films (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire, I even enjoyed The Beach) but nothing comes close to his opening ceremony. It could have become very little Englander but instead was educational, suspenseful, chock-full of fun and ultimately very British. The music was incredible, the mix of classical and modern, I bought it the hour it was released. The modern history of Britain through dance, art, music, acting, comedy (well done Her Madge and well done Rowan Atkinson) made me feel very proud of my so called septic isle. It didn't have to be perfect, there are some glitches, you can see that, but it was a celebration like no other. Halcyon days.' – Antony Train If you want to read the complete version of this newsletter please subscribe to receive The Guide in your inbox every Friday