Skip to main content

Roland Juno-106 - Part 4 (Heat Sink and Dead Key)

With the refurbished voice chips installed, and the original factory presets loaded in, I was really enjoying playing my Juno-106. I even decided to use it as the primary source in a synth-pop cover of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.” But something kept nagging at me. What if it overheats? What if it just dies? What if all my work and expense is for naught?

It was time to open her back up and do a little more work before continuing with the music. Of  course, there’s a lot more work to be done—greasing the sliders, changing the tact switches, brightening the buttons—but none of that will mean anything if the power transistors fail.

There’s a big heat sink connected to the power supply board, with a number of transistors bolted to it. I’m no electronics expert, so my knowledge here is limited to what I’ve gleaned from the internet, but it seems like these transistors are pretty important. Because of long use, the solder joints connecting these transistors to the PCB can develop cracks, or so-called dry joints. This can result in all sorts of electrical problems, including serious damage to the machine.

To make sure this doesn’t happen, I removed the power supply board and checked the transistor solder joints. They looked OK, but then again my eyes aren’t what they used to be. I decided that it was better to be safe than sorry and reflowed the joints. It was a simple job and I soon had the board back in. No explosions, no smoke, happy days.

Next was the dead low C. I’ve had plenty of synths with dead keys and without fail, all have been fixed by cleaning contacts. Even my Korg Poly-61, which I was convinced was going to need key surgery, eventually came back to life with a little pencil lead. But not this Juno. I tried cleaning, I tried lead. I even tried sacrificing a chicken. OK, I didn’t sacrifice a chicken.

There’s not much happening in the PCB under the keys, just a diode for each note. Of course, the issue could also be in the cables connecting the keyboard to the main PCB, but since it was just one key and not a regular series of them, I figured it probably wasn’t that. I also had my doubts that it was the diode as apparently they’re not known for failure but if anything it would be a good opportunity to work on my diagnosing skills.

I tried checking the diode with my multimeter to see if it was working but it wouldn’t read in circuit. If I was going to yank it out I may as well put a new one back in, so I ordered a bunch (500, my god) from Wish. I got it out, checked it, and it seemed OK. I put a new one back in, held my breath, and gingerly depressed the key. Nothing. I thought maybe I heard a sad trombone playing in the distance but it was only the wind.

The next most likely culprit was a damaged trace. Actually this was the most likely culprit but I had been hoping it really wasn’t this. Unlike on some other synths, the keys on the Juno have to be removed one at a time to get at the PCB underneath. I had already taken them all out once to clean them. I wasn’t in any rush to do it again. But I really wanted to fix that key.

I started pulling them out, careful to set them down in the correct sequential order, and kept my old eyes out for any damage to the traces. Thankfully my fears were unfounded and I didn’t have to look very far until I saw it: a nasty little scar right on the trace leading away from the low C. Maybe someone jammed a knife in there doing an impression of Keith Emerson, who knows.

I grabbed an X-acto knife from my tool box and carefully scraped at the top green coating on the board until I could see the copper layer below. I used a soft artist’s brush to brush away the powder, and scratched off another spot on the other side of the scar. The goal was to expose two spots on the trace on either side of the break that I could bridge and complete the circuit. I snipped a leg off one of my many Wish diodes and soldered it to the exposed areas.

I turned it on, pressed on the rubber contact plunger with the (nonconductive) end of my screwdriver and it happily sounded a glorious low C. As with most of my repairs it won’t win any awards for looks but it works and that’s good enough for me. I should also mention that I’m pleased as Hawaiian Punch that I was able to successfully diagnose and repair the problem, something I’ve been working towards for almost two years now. It was a small problem, admittedly, but it’s a start.

So now my Juno plays without issue, and should hopefully not be electrocuting itself any time soon. There’s still a long way to go on this restoration but I’m very happy with my progress.

I should think about maybe getting some reading glasses though.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Roland HS-80 SynthPlus 80 (Alpha Juno 2)

Although I listened to industrial music all through high school, and loved groups like Front 242 and Skinny Puppy, my interest in electronic music really exploded when I discovered techno and rave in 1991. I loved the energy of it but mostly I loved the sounds. It was unabashedly synthy, and each song was seemingly built around one or two incredible sounds that just repeated. It was glorious. I loved all the hoovers, but especially the Dominator, so if you had put money down with a bookie in 1991 that I’d someday be the proud owner of an Alpha Juno synth then you’d be a winner today. Well, almost. Instead of buying a reasonably sized Alpha Juno or Alpha Juno 2, I had to go and get the HS-80 SynthPlus 80, the rather unwieldy and, it has to be said, ugly home version. Introduced in 1987, a year later than the original Alphas, this behemoth widened the case to include an amp and two speakers. Gone are the fetching membrane buttons, replaced with D-50-style black push-button jobbi...

Korg Poly-800 (Moog Slayer Filter And Battery Mod)

I’m trying to improve my electronics skills. I thought modding might be the logical next step from changing internal batteries and swapping out tactile switches. I’d like to add MIDI to my Korg Poly-61 and maybe improve the MIDI on my Roland JX-3P. These mods require skills above and beyond what I have now, and I certainly don’t want to wreck them in the process, so when a cheap Poly-800 became available on Yahoo Auctions, I snapped it up in the hopes of trying the Moog Slayer Filter Mod. As anyone who’s looked at a Poly-800 knows, there are no knobs on the front panel, just a few buttons and a lot of teal. I couldn’t do much about the teal but I could add two knobs to bring direct control of the filter and cutoff parameters to the fore. Seeing as it’s a Poly-800, and they sell for around $100 in Japan, I wouldn’t be too disappointed if I killed it. I could always sell it for parts and get my money back anyway. Cosmetically, my new Poly-800 wasn’t in terrible shape. There was so...

Yamaha PortaSound PSS-480

As I’ve said before , I’m not the biggest fan of FM synthesis. It’s not that I dislike it. I believe it has its uses, and there are some sounds it does better than anything else. But I never went through an FM phase like a lot of other people seem to have. I grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s so I love analog synthesis. I consider a two-oscillator monosynth solo with plenty of portamento to be one of the finer things in life. Recently, I have come to appreciate what FM synthesis can do. And while I’m still not a huge fan of six-operator synths like the DX7, take me down to four and watch me come alive. My TX81Z can do things no analog synth can do, and while I didn’t have it for very long, the DX100 was more than capable when it came to bass. Solid, even. If four operators are better than six, imagine how good two operators must be. Sadly, this is not the case but two-op machines are capable of some pretty incredible sounds. From bells to falling cooking pan-like noise, it’s hard to b...