Alex Ball Invokes the Farfisa Polychrome: Choirs from the Analog Stratosphere

The Farfisa Polychrome arrives in the narrative like a relic unearthed from beneath layers of analog dust—a rare jewel from the late 1970s, its presence both spectral and immediate. Alex Ball’s first encounter with this instrument is painted as a moment of awe, a meeting with a machine that seems to hum with the memories of forgotten studios and Italian workshops. The Polychrome’s reputation as an elusive artifact is underscored by its scarcity and the reverence it commands among synth devotees.

This is not simply another polyphonic synthesizer; it is a vessel for unique sound worlds. Its divide-down, paraphonic architecture allows for lush, simultaneous voices, while its tactile controls invite hands to sculpt clouds of resonance and shimmer. The Polychrome’s very existence feels improbable—a fleeting apparition, now brought into focus for us to witness its sonic bloom.

To understand the Polychrome is to trace the veins of Farfisa’s history, pulsing with post-war ambition and the restless search for new timbres. Ball guides us through the company’s evolution, from accordion roots to the electronic organs that colored the soundtracks of both European salons and American stadiums. The Polychrome emerges as a late chapter in this saga, a response to shifting musical tides and the hunger for polyphony.

Within this context, the Polychrome’s impact is magnified. It stands as a testament to Farfisa’s willingness to experiment, to infuse their machines with both technical innovation and a touch of eccentricity. The synth’s brief production run and eventual rarity only deepen its mystique, making each surviving unit a kind of sonic time capsule—one that Ball opens with both curiosity and respect.

The heart of Ball’s exploration is a series of sound demonstrations that reveal the Polychrome’s true voice—a choir conjured from circuitry, shimmering with otherworldly color. The instrument’s percussive, string, and ensemble sections are unveiled like layers of fog, each with their own tactile quirks and spectral charm. The vocal chorus, in particular, emerges as a magnetic force: a nebula drone that hovers between human and machine, evoking the uncanny valley with every breath.

Ball’s hands coax out textures that are at once familiar and alien—classic ‘70s strings, brass that exhales with a ghostly presence, and phasers that ripple like light through water. The Polychrome’s idiosyncrasies are celebrated: noise generators that add breath, touch brilliance that responds to the performer’s intent, and modulation that bends time and space. This is not a synth to be tamed, but one to be explored, its architecture inviting sonic storytelling at every turn.

Yet, the true magic lies in how these elements combine. When Ball layers the choir, strings, and percussive attack, the result is a soundscape that feels both cinematic and intimate—a slow-motion explosion of color and resonance. The Polychrome does not simply play notes; it paints with them, leaving trails of light and shadow in its wake.

The Polychrome’s story does not end in the past. Ball invites Hainbach—a modern conjurer of electronic ghosts—to share his own fascination with the instrument. For Hainbach, the Polychrome’s electronically generated choirs are a source of endless inspiration, their uncanny warmth threading through albums and film scores alike. He speaks of the joy in assembling evolving patches, where a single note can set off a cascade of voices, strings, and phasers, all blooming in magnetic resonance.

This contemporary embrace underscores the Polychrome’s timelessness. Its quirks and limitations become strengths in the hands of today’s sonic explorers, who find in its circuitry a portal to new emotional landscapes. The instrument’s allure is not nostalgia alone, but the promise of discovery—a machine that continues to reveal new stories with every touch.