Wednesday, 1 October 2025

Novation Circuit Mono Station: Fat Bread

Let's have a look at the Novation Circuit Mono Station. It looks like a nightclub, doesn't it? There's a dancefloor with glowing floor panels, and a DJ's mixing desk. But it's not a nightclub. Oh no. It's actually a surprisingly fully-featured synthesiser with a built-in pad-based sequencer.

Just look at all those colours:

Novation released the Mono Station in 2017 as part of their Circuit range of groovebox sequencers. Sound on Sound liked it, but while the other Circuits were updated or replaced circa 2020 the Mono Station was quietly discontinued. I think the problem is that it was marketed as an all-in-one analogue sequencer workstation, but it's really just a synthesiser with an admittedly smart sequencer, a kind of super-sized Korg Volca. Unless you do some clever programming it can only play a single bassline with no drums.

At heart the Mono Station is a Novation Bass Station 2 synthesiser combined with a Novation Circuit sequencer. You can in theory just use it as a Bass Station 2, ignoring the sequencer entirely, in which case it's actually cheaper on the used market.

Let's talk about the bits. The original Novation Bass Station came out in 1993. It was a two-oscillator monosynth housed in a cute little case, with a two-octave keyboard. At the time it was sold as a clone of the Roland TB-303 acid house bassline synthesiser, but it was much more versatile. It could do analogue lead lines as well. For a long time it was the only affordable analogue synthesiser on the market and it sold like hot cakes.

Novation upgraded the engine in the following years. The Super Bass Station rackmount of 1997 added a sub-oscillator, ring modulation, white noise, and a distortion effect, which meant that it could also double as an analogue percussion generator. For the next few years Novation concentrated on the Nova digital synth, but in 2013 they launched the Bass Station 2, which added a bunch of upgrades including oscillator sync and (with a firmware upgrade) duophony, essentially turning the Bass Station into a modern analogue of the ARP Odyssey or Sequential Pro-One.

The Mono Station's synthesiser engine is a Bass Station 2 minus one of the LFOs, minus one of the envelopes, minus the TB-303 filter emulation, minus oscillator cross-modulation, but what remains is still pretty versatile.

It has two mixable oscillators, sine-triangle-saw-square, with variable pulse wide on the square, although you can't set this manually. Pulse width has to be modulated. There's a slightly underwhelming sub-oscillator, plus white noise and an audio input. The audio input goes through the envelopes and the filter.

It also has ring modulation and oscillator sync. The Mono Station's manual does a poor job of explaining how to make oscillator sync sound good - it works best if you apply a bit of pitch modulation to the sync source. At that point the sync effect makes the distinctive beoooo sound.

There's a single, multi-envelope, sync-able, key-syncable LFO that can be assigned to pitch, pulse width, filter cutoff, and the distortion effect. The distortion has three types, all of which have a digital-sounding crackly crunch. There's also a relatively subtle overdrive effect. As pictured above the Mono Station uses glowing LED lights to show the depth of a modulation source.

The six-part, button-driven modulation matrix is easy enough to use, although it would be nice if there was a way to quickly zero out the modulation. Sometimes I found that my patch sounded odd, at which point I had to click through each of the six modulation destinations to make sure that they weren't interfering with the sound. The modulation depth knob doesn't have detents, so you have to be really precise to zero out the modulation.

The Mono Station has one envelope and one LFO, which is reminiscent of the original Roland SH-101. Sadly this means that you can't combine a slow-running filter sweep with fast-moving pulse width modulation, for example. But it's work-around-able.

There are two filters. The 12dB filter has a bright sound. The 24dB filter is darker-sounding, more Moogy, very powerful. I've always had a penchant for Doctor Who-style chunk-a-chunk bass sounds, and the 24dB filter is good at that.

Unusually the two oscillators are independently addressable. Ordinarily the Mono Station acts as a two-oscillator mono synth, but if there are any notes in the second sequencer channel they're assigned to the second oscillator. This also works with incoming MIDI information, with the two oscillators using two selectable MIDI channels. By default the Mono Station's single envelope is only triggered by the first sequencer channel, so oscillator two only appears in the shadow cast by oscillator one, but there is an option to trigger the envelope from both channels.

As a MIDI synth module the Circuit Mono has one problem that annoyed me. It transposes incoming MIDI notes to the selected scale. It puzzled me for ages until I realised I needed to set the scale to chromatic if I wanted to address every note. A subsidiary issue is that the scales aren't labelled. It would have been nice if Novation had simply cut the range down to eight scales - there are sixteen scales, which feels excessive - and labelled them underneath the lower row of pads.

The clock output is compatible with the sync ports on the Korg Volcas. The CV/gate output is tied to sequencer channel one.

Which brings me to the sequencer. There are three channels. Channel one controls oscillators one and two. The second channel controls oscillator two. And there's a third channel that contains modulation data, which is useful if you want to layer a pattern of accents on top of several other sequences. A later firmware update turn this into a fully-fledged third sequencer channel that can drive external gear from the Aux CV output.

The sequencer has some clever ideas, but also some limitations. Each channel can have an independent pattern chain. You can set channel one to loop after four patterns while channel two loops through three patterns, and the patterns themselves can be shortened from sixteen steps. Chaining them together is a simple matter of holding down the first step and then pressing the other steps in sequence, but as with the Korg Volcas you can only step through the patterns in order. You can't program a song that goes 1-1-1-2-1-2-3-4, for example.

The process of programming the actual notes reminds me of the Arturia BeatStep Pro, but it's clunkier. With the BeatStep, you can cue up a sequence and then selectively mute notes while the sequence plays, or add notes transparently, which is great for live sequencing. On paper you can also do that with the Circuit Mono, but in practice pressing the keyboard immediately triggers a note, which interrupts the sequence. There doesn't seem to be a way to cue up notes silently, or at least if there is I couldn't find it in the manual.

A second issue is that the current view is tied to the playing pattern. If you want to edit pattern 1, and you're playing a chain of patterns that goes 1-2-3-4, you have to wait for the Circuit Mono to loop back to pattern 1 before you can edit it, and you have to implement your edit before it moves to pattern 2. In general I find the BeatStep superior as a live sequencer.

The Mono Station will synchronise up with the BeatStep Pro via clock sync, and vice-versa.

The sequencer has one major limitation. The two melody channels are hardwired to oscillators 1+2 and 2 respectively, as if Novation really wanted to interest you in paraphony. In practice this means that anything you put in sequencer channel 2 triggers the second oscillator. It would have been nice if channel 2 could have been used purely to drive external gear. The aforementioned firmware update essentially does this with the modulation channel, which is nice, and it's less of a limitation if you just use the Mono Station as a clock source, but it's a problem if you intend to use the device as the heart of an analogue studio.

Now, this is more of a feature request than a limitation, but it would have been great if the Mono Station simply had four individually assignable sequencer channels that could be set to drive any combination of oscillators or external gear. I have the impression the designers started with the Novation Circuit's two-polyphonic-synthesisers-plus-drums arrangement and simply transposed it to the Mono Station, but it doesn't make as much sense on a monophonic synth that hasn't got a separate percussion engine.

Are there any other limitations? The Bass Station 2 has an arpeggiator. The Mono Station doesn't. You can in theory program a pattern as an arpeggio, but there's no way to transpose it, either with the keyboard or with incoming note data.

The Mono Station will also synchronise via MIDI clock, although this requires a chain of 3.5mm-to-MIDI-to-3.5mm adapters. The Mono Station and BeatStep Pro both use the same 3.5mm-to-MIDI protocol, so in theory a direct stereo 3.5mm cable connection should work. I tried this, and it worked, but it's apparently bad form.

This is why I think of the Circuit Mono as a Bass Station 2 with a built-in sequencer rather than as a fully-fledged groovebox. The original Novation Circuit had rudimentary reverb and delay effects, and a drum channel. The Circuit Mono Station doesn't have that, so if you plan to use it as a portable ideas notepad you'll probably get sick of sixteen-step basslines, at which point it becomes very limited. A simple Tangerine Dream-style delay would have been nice.

If you plan to take it on a journey with you the Mono Station is roughly the same size as two Korg Volcas. It'll synchronise with them using simple mono Eurorack patch cables, but you would of course need a small mixer as well. The Mono Station has an audio input, but it goes through the filter and envelope, which can't be bypassed. You can of course pair it with a MacBook Air, but you'd need some kind of audio interface, because the Mono Station's USB connection only carries MIDI. Of note the Mono Station relies on a 12v mains adapter for power.

How would I have implemented the Mono Station? I would have taken one of two directions. If money was tight I would have dropped the paraphonic, duophonic aspect, dropped the ring modulator, added a delay effect, and also added four individual, assignable sequencer channels, with channel one optionally driving the internal synthesiser and the others driving either the CV output or a selectable MIDI channel. If there was room for a simple drum synth on the unit, or even just a bunch of drum samples, I would have thrown that in as a bonus.

Or, if the economics were viable, I would have given the Mono Station four individual, assignable sequencer channels, and four separate single-oscillator synthesiser engines, one per channel, that could be combined in different ways. This would have turned the Mono Station into a Vermona Perfourmer with a built-in four-channel sequencer. The end result would probably have been very expensive, but I can't think of anything else like it on the market. The end result would have been Depeche Mode's Speak and Spell in a box.

It also synchronises with the original BeatStep, although you have to remember that the original BeatStep had its own MIDI adapter.

So, that's the Circuit Mono Station. On the positive side, it's a cheap way to get hold of the guts of a Novation Bass Station 2 in a compact case, and the sequencer is handy. On the negative side the sequencer has some major limitations, but on the positive side again it's much easier to use than the sequencers built into Korg's Volca modules. If you think of it as a kind of super-Volca it makes a lot more sense than it does as the sequencing heart of an analogue studio.

Monday, 1 September 2025

Korg iM1: A Slickness in the Sky

There was a famous slogan in the punk era. "This is a chord. This is another. This is a third. Now form a band."

Let's fast-forward a decade to the late 1980s. How could we update that slogan? "This is a Korg M1. This is a copy of Zero-G's Datafile One. This is a second-hand Akai S950 sampler. Now come up with a band name, but you don't need to actually form a band, just come up with a name. You will be the band. You, and samples."

You might also need an ADAT recorder and an Alesis Quadraverb. And possibly an Atari ST with a cracked copy of Cubase. Maybe a little mixing desk to tie it all up. And some old records, although Datafile One covers that. This being 1989 all of the aforementioned would have cost you several thousand pounds, but it was all you needed to make an actual chart hit. To be an actual, bona fide pop star. To appear on Top of the Pops, standing awkwardly behind a keyboard while dancers did their thing in front of you.


You might also have wanted to hire a really good singer. And a model, who would appear in the video, but not on the record. You would have one, maybe two top ten singles.

Then it would all go wrong. Your first album would reach #14 in the charts on the back of the singles. Your second album would spend a week at number sixty. The record label would void your contract. And now it is 1993, and tastes have changed. You're baffled by the new sounds of trip-hop and jungle and big beat. You can't catch up, but it was fun while it lasted.

iVCS3 running on an iPad Mini

But let's talk about the Korg M1. It was launched in 1988, but it took a few years to become ironic, and then it had a second wind. Now, whatever your opinion of Apple, you have to admit that the company has a wide range of interesting musical apps for the iPad and iPhone. Near the top of the tree is Apesoft's iVCS3 (pictured above). It's a software recreation of the impenetrable-but-fascinating EMS VCS3. There's also Moog's Model D, which recreates the Moog MiniMoog, and Olympia's Patterning, a drum machine with a novel circular interface. And iM1, a modern interpretation of the Korg M1.

Modern-ish, because it was launched in 2015, but Korg continues to update it, and it works fine with modern versions of iOS. As of 2025 it sells for £29.99, but it's occasionally on offer. For that money you get a simulation of most of a Korg M1, with the original presets, plus some more presets from the expanded M1EX, and an in-app option to buy more presets from a bunch of voice cards.

Which isn't a particularly appealing option, because the key to the M1's success was the iconic range of sounds that came with the original keyboard. Extra sounds are nice, but do you really want a batch of b-list sounds from a 1990s digital synth? Neither do I.

What is the Korg M1? It's a sample-based synthesiser with a built-in sequencer and multi-effects. For many years it was the best-selling synthesiser of all time. Why was it so popular? There were essentially two reasons.

Firstly, it was a miniature studio in keyboard form. It had an eight-track sequencer that could play eight separate instruments at once, including drums. The architecture was built on a pool of samples, including guitars, electric basses, pianos etc, which meant that it was one of the first synthesisers that didn't necessarily sound electronic. It could do rock or orchestral arrangements, not just techno.

It also had a built-in multi-effects unit with a mixture of reverbs and delays - standard stuff at the time - but also distortion, EQ, an exciter, a phaser, even a rotary speaker simulator. As a result the M1's presets sounded unusually slick, as if they were part of a finished record. Korg's preset designers didn't just splash the effects onto the sounds arbitrarily, they knew how to make the built-in samples sound good.

The second and most important reason was the M1's range of preset sounds. As a synthesiser - as a means of generating new tones - the M1 was very limited. Nowadays it's often called a ROMPler, because it was really just a sample playback unit with a bunch of waveforms stored in a built-in ROM chip. The synthesis engine had a bank of four megabytes of 16-bit, 44khz samples that could be layered and fed into the multi-effects unit. There was a simple non-resonant digital filter, although it was more of a muffler than a proper filter. As if to compensate for its stiffness the envelopes were unusually complex, partially to enable a simple form of wave sequencing and partially to disguise the lack of real-time control.

But very few people minded the limited synth engine, because the preset sounds were fantastic. For the first time, a relatively affordable keyboard synthesiser had lengthy, professionally-recorded 16-bit sampled presets, instead of compressed little sound snippets. The traditional instruments were impressive enough to use as stand-ins for their real-life cousins, while the sci-fi sounds were perfect for ambient techno. As far as I can tell literally the first sound on The Orb's "Back Side of the Moon" is a Korg M1, specially the Universe preset:

Unfortunately the M1's sounds quickly became overused. I don't know exactly which instruments Livin' Joy used to make "Dreamer", but to my untutored ears the whole track sounds like Korg M1 with some drum samples layered on top:

Beyond the house piano and heavenly choir the M1's other popular preset was a boop-boop, boopy-boopy organ sound. It was bassy, but it also had enough treble that it didn't get buried by the drums. It was used prominently on The Nightcrawlers' "Push the Feeling On", which is another record that seems to have been created entirely with a Korg M1 and drum samples. The M1 also coincided with the Nintendo SNES, which used sample playback for its music, so a lot a SNES games had M1 samples because the composer owned an M1.

Apropos of nothing here's a recording of Japanese ambient radio station St. GIGA, which might not have any M1 on it as far as I can tell, but it reminds me of the era (nb there's a really good track at the 24:30 mark):

On the whole the M1's mixture of clean samples and digital reverb have a slickness that got old quickly. If music was a big circle, the Korg M1 would be on one side, and Johnny Cash's American Recordings would be on the other. Even in the field of dance music it dated badly. But some of the synth strings and pads have a timeless quality, and it has a lot more character than the General MIDI keyboards that followed it.

But what of iM1? It doesn't have the sequencer, presumably taken out because there are better options. I admit I haven't tried sequencing iM1 with my iPad. Instead I used Logic running on a Macintosh. The iPad has terrific integration with a Mac. It acts as both an instrument and a digital audio input, so I don't have to run a cable from the headphone jack to my audio interface. When hooked up in the fashion iM1 essentially operates as a virtual instrument within Logic, but running on an iPad.



As far as I can tell it's 44khz, stereo only, but so was the original M1. What if you don't have Logic, or a Macintosh? That's a good question. Technically it's two questions. Two good questions.

As with the Korg Volca FM there's a certain pointlessness to iM1. Korg also sells a VST version that can run directly in a sequencer, although at $49.99 it's not an impulse buy. For the record I paid £12.99 for the iPad version, which is slightly more awkward to use than the VST version and doesn't save any money if you don't already have an iPad. Compared to an actual M1, however, iM1 has a much nicer interface, and real-time parameter control. It has limited support for automation.

As a proof of concept I recorded the following piece of music using the iM1, plus Nils Schneider's free VST recreation of the Kawai K1. I was going for an early-90s SNES soundtrack / synthesiser demo song feel.

The Kawai K1 was a blend of M1 and Korg Wavestation. Each patch could be created from four samples layered on top of each other, mixed with a joystick in real time. The samples were 8-bit and very muffled, and there was no filter at all, and some things still baffle me. There's an LFO, but seemingly no way to assign it to anything. A complex modulation section, but no way to assign the envelopes to anything except volume, which is a shame because the amplitude modulation feature would have benefited from pitch modulation of the amplitude source. But it's free, so I shouldn't grumble.

While playing with iM1 it struck me that if you didn't grow up in the 1990s its sounds probably don't come across as cheesy and dated. And for an early ROMPler the recording quality of the samples is surprisingly good, so in isolation the M1 doesn't sound all that old-fashioned today. And perhaps you do want to evoke the sounds of Culture Beat or Whigfield.

Anything else? As with the original keyboard iM1 is eight-part multitimbral, but it only supports a single stereo output. This is one thing the original M1 has over iM1, because the original M1 had four separate audio outputs. It has limited support for automation, which is undocumented in the manual, but it will respond to MIDI control codes. The M1 was 16-voice polyphonic with dual-sample single patches, whereas iM1 raises this to 64 voices. On my first-generation iPad Pro it never slowed down, but then again the application is quite old and is at heart only playing back a bunch of samples.

As mentioned up the page Korg sells extra sounds as in-app DLC. The two expansions are £2.99 each. I'm sure there are some gems, but a large part of iM1's appeal is the M1's ironic, original set of preset sounds. The Korg T1 was probably fantastic, but what does it mean in 2025? The M1 has meaning, that counts for a lot.

Friday, 1 August 2025

Resurrecting a MOTU 2408 with ADAT

This is MOTU 2408 MkIII, an audio interface. It's a frustrating thing. It was originally released in 2003, but despite being over twenty years old it's still pretty good. It has eight balanced 1/4" audio inputs, a bunch of ADAT, TDIF, and SPDIF ports, and it records 24-bit audio at 44, 48, 82, and 96khz.

But it's a pain to get working with modern computers. The original MOTU 2408 MkI came out in 1999, slightly before FireWire, at a time when USB was restricted to USB 1.0, so it connected up to contemporary PCs and Macintoshes with a PCI card. What's a PCI card? Ask your parents. They might remember their own parents fiddling around with PCI cards.

The 2408 MkII and MkIII had the same system. To their credit MOTU continued to update the drivers, but as of 2025 the only Apple Macintosh with PCI slots is the Mac Pro, and MOTU's drivers haven't been updated for modern Apple Silicon processors. MOTU's next interface was the 828, but that used Firewire, which is another story entirely.

It would be nice to still use the 2408. And there is hope! Even without a computer connection the 2408 still works as an audio interface. In standalone mode analogue audio that comes in through the 1/4" jacks is routed out to the ADAT, TDIF, and SPDIF ports. SPDIF folds everything down to two-channel stereo, but ADAT and TDIF transmit eight channels of audio at 44 or 48khz, or four channels at 82 and 96khz.

What would be nice is a simple dongle that could pump ADAT to a computer, preferably something cheaper than an entirely new modern audio interface with an ADAT input. There are lots of USB interfaces that output ADAT, but a dearth of interfaces with ADAT inputs.

There is one exception, the MiniDSP MCHStreamer, which is available either as an unclad circuit board or in a little box. I'm not a farmer, so I bought the version that comes in a box. This is what it looks like:

NB I bought it with my own money and have no commercial relationship with MiniDSP. It shipped from Hong Kong and is, as far as I can tell, exempt from UK customs duty, although even if it isn't the price isn't onerous. The boxed version is currently listed at $115, shipping $35, which is about £110. The kit version (which is assembled, it just doesn't have a case) is $10 cheaper. Is it just a Raspberry Pi or something, with special firmware? Could you make one yourself? I have no idea, and possibly, in that order.

The MCHStreamer is essentially a tiny little computer board that converts a bunch of digital audio formats in real time. The boxed version only supports ADAT and SPDIF, although I assume that's only because the internal headers are covered by the case. It's powered by USB, and it's small enough to rest on top of the 2408.

Getting it to work isn't straightforward, although it's still easy. I have a Macintosh. The first step is to download the firmware bundle and plug the MCHStreamer into the computer. At that point you have to upload the correct firmware into the box. In the following screenshot I've picked ADAT:


Step two involves plugging the included optical cable - the package includes two optical cables and a USB cable, which is a nice touch - into the 2408's BANK A optical ADAT output:


Step three involves booting up the 2408 and fiddling with the SELECT and SET buttons. For the SOURCE I picked the audio inputs. Confusingly the LEDs imply that the audio is routed to ADAT BANK C, but no, the audio is output to all three ADAT banks.

For the CLOCK I picked 44khz, internal. Baby steps. I then plugged a radio into input 3, just to see if it worked, and also because I wanted to make sure that it was transmitting on discrete channels and not just 1+2 as a stereo pair.


Then I popped open Audio MIDI Setup and set the MCHStreamer to pick up clock from the 2408's ADAT signal:


Why do you have to do this? If you don't - and I tried it - the signal is crackly. My understanding is that the optical audio protocol isn't like computer networking. It doesn't send packets of data, it just sends a string of bytes, and the receiver has no idea where each byte begins unless it has a clock signal from the source. The result is a kind of audio chaos that sounds awful. Does that sound like a plausible explanation? That's how my mind envisages it. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me, but deep down there is a brave heart. In my mind.

Synchronising the MCHStreamer to ADAT clock was flaky. At first. I can't tell if it just takes a long time, or if there's a quasi-random factor, but at first it didn't work. After cycling through the 2408's clock options it did eventually hook up, and remained hooked up, although curiously after the first run (pictured above) it only synchronised at 48khz. And yet once it worked, it stayed working. Maybe it's a first-run thing. Perhaps I just didn't have the optical cables plugged in all the way.

After setting all this up I opened Logic, and lo and behold, MCHStreamer ADAT was an input source, with eight channels of audio:


I clicked the input monitoring icon and voila, I could hear a signal coming from the 2408, and I could select each of the eight channels and record audio from them.


As a proof of concept I used it to record the following piece of music, which has a mixture of audio tracks from my modular synthesiser and some virtual instruments:


Sadly one thing missing from this setup is the 2408's original monitoring hardware, which was housed on the PCI card and acted as a mini-mixer.

Still, if you happen to have an ancient MOTU 2408 lying around doing nothing, it can be returned to service as an eight-channel audio interface with a simple ADAT to USB box that powers itself from the USB port. Alternatively, if you want to use the 2408 as a crude mixer you could power the MCHStreamer with a powered USB hub.

In theory you could bypass all of this malarky by plugging the 2408 into the ADAT input of another audio interface. But the cheaper good-quality audio interfaces don't have ADAT ports, and the more expensive interfaces are much more capable than the 2408, so why bother?

If the MCHStreamer was $35 and just a tiny little USB dongle with USB at one end and a pair of optical ports at the other it would be even more superb, although it has to be said that the population of people who have a twenty-year-old MOTU 2408 lurking in a cupboard probably isn't large enough to justify the research and development outlay. If it had a built-in DAC and a 3.5" headphone output it would also be useful for the tiny, tiny population of people who want to use a PlayStation 3 with a computer monitor that doesn't have built-in speakers, but again that's a small constituency. There are dozens of us. Dozens.

Tuesday, 1 July 2025

Buying a Compact Disc in the Modern Age

I've never been keen on nostalgia, but I'm a broadminded fellow, so in the spirit of discovery I decided to buy a compact disc, in the year 2025, which is this year. I'll show you how I did it.

I'm not suggesting you copy me. What I am about to describe is not for the timid. But perhaps you're curious about physical media, or maybe you bought a lot of compact discs when you were young, and you haven't for a while, and you want to recapture the feeling. Or you want to understand what it was like back in the day, or whatever.

A compact disc in its housing

What is a compact disc? It's a physical data storage medium. A small silver aluminium disc sandwiched between two protective layers of plastic. One side of the disc has a pattern of finely-etched pits, which can be read by a laser and interpreted as digitally-encoded audio. The format was invented by Phillips and Sony in the late 1970s. It was specifically designed for ABBA and Beethoven, but it's also compatible with other musicians. A compact disc can store around seventy-four minutes of 44khz, 16-bit stereo audio. According to the internet the best compact disc is Billy Joel's An Innocent Man.

How many compact discs are there? Lots. They're still manufactured today. They have no practical economic use as anything other than a data storage medium and they cannot be broken down profitably into scrap, but with a few exceptions they remain playable for many years, so there are a lot of functional compact discs still out there in the wild. Most games consoles can play compact discs, with the exception of the modern Sony PlayStation. Standalone compact disc players are still available.

On a legal level purchasing a compact disc grants the owner a licence to play the music stored on the disc in a non-commercial setting. But the discs are un-erasable, the music is not encrypted, and compact disc players were intended to be standalone units that did not connect to the internet, so in practice the buyer "owns" its data.

But which compact disc shall I buy? Discogs.com has 4,980,181 compact discs in its database, and after sifting through every single one I made a shortlist of three. First on the list was the Insane Clown Posse's The Great Milenko. Second was Brian Eno's Ambient 4: On Land. Third was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's Mustt Mustt. I eliminated the other 4,980,178 compact discs because they weren't as good.

Unfortunately Ambient 4 seems to be out of print, so I removed that from the shortlist, and I already have two copies of The Great Milenko, so for the purpose of this blog post I ended up with Mustt Mustt. It's an intensely problematic album. iTunes says that the genre is "religious", but that's not true. It's actually world music, released in 1990 on Peter Gabriel's Real World label. Gabriel was one of the masterminds behind world music, and Real World specialised in releasing world music albums.

World music is of course unacceptable nowadays, so after writing this article I popped Mustt Mustt into an envelope and sent it to the Stop Kony campaign. I have no idea what they do nowadays. I enclosed a Post-It note with "please give to a poor child or something" written on it.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe

I'm not going to advertise a particular store. I used Amazon, but there are others. Steam for example. Does Steam sell compact discs? Apparently not, although it did once sell movies and TV shows.

I'm going to digress again at this point. Yes, obviously this blog post is an arch joke. It's not particularly hard to buy a compact disc, even in 2025. Millions are sold every year. And yet it dawned on me that my nearest city doesn't have a compact disc store. Not even the larger newsagents sell compact discs any more. There's CeX, but it only sells DVDs. I'm struggling to think where I might buy a compact disc on the high street nowadays. A larger, out-of-town Tesco? Charity shops? There are a few record stores, but they sell vinyl records, not compact discs.

Even in the heyday of physical stores I would have had to specially order Mustt Mustt, because it wasn't a best-seller when it came out. It sold well, but not in the same league as Lisa Stansfield or Erasure. But, anyway, after selecting Mustt Mustt and putting it in my checkout basket, I realised that I needed to add £25.01 of other things to qualify for free shipping, so I bought two Bosch 12v relays for my motorcycle, some powdered milk, and a bunch of zipties. So that I can ziptie a solar battery tender to one of my panniers. I shouldn't have to justify my purchase of zipties any more.

After finalising my order I gave Amazon my financial details and waited for delivery. I selected a local Post Office as the delivery location, in case I wasn't at home when the compact disc arrived. After two days it was delivered to the Post Office, and I picked it up from there.

After taking the album home I removed it from the packaging, at which point I had successfully bought a compact disc in the year 2025 which is this year. Mission accomplished!

The disc itself. It has world music on it.

I was slightly disappointed to find that the compact disc was packaged in a cardboard sleeve. When I was young compact discs were packaged in plastic cases. Ageless plastic cases that didn't crease or go musty. That was the whole point of compact discs. They were ageless and immortal, not messy or organic.

Packaging a compact disc in a messy, organic cardboard sleeve feels like a retrograde step. I was promised a future of plastic and metal, away from the dirt, and I intend to have that future. Not cardboard. Triangles, aggressive shapes, the smell of burning oil.

I uploaded the CD to my Macintosh, just to see if MacOS could still do that:


Which it does. One day Apple will remove this feature and whatever database iTunes uses for its track listings will be turned off. It has been a long time since Macintoshes had optical drives, but MacOS still has drivers for them - but for how much longer? I've heard tales that Apple Music doesn't actually upload the contents of a compact disc, it instead downloads the files from the internet and replaces the files with updated copies, which can be awkward if there are subtle differences, but as far as I can tell the data of Mustt Mustt on my computer is the actual data from my Mustt Mustt compact disc.

Another example of an album available on compact disc.

It's not iTunes any more, is it? It's Apple Music. Unless you have a Windows PC, in which case iTunes lives on, at least for a while. As the CD-ROM drive whirred into life I thought of all the people who must have uploaded compact discs to their Macintosh, back in the day, en route to their iPod. They called it ripping. The term was devised by software pirates, but Apple made it mainstream because Apple was hip back then.


I've written at length about the different hipness of vintage Apple. When I was very young Apple was hip, but in a different way. It was a different kind of hipness. The company appealed to middle-aged media nerds such as Douglas Adams and Timothy Leary. Apple was the Saab of computers, the Ikea of computers. It didn't target the youth market because its computers cost £6000. And then, in a clever piece of rebranding at the turn of the millennium, Apple said "sayonara" to staid old men and embraced young people, at which point Apple became hip in the modern sense of the word. Hip in the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill sense.

What does it feel like? To own a compact disc in 2025? Partially I felt a sense of emptiness. Until the turn of the millennium a portion of the sale price of every compact disc was sent to Phillips and Sony, who co-developed the technology and held numerous patents on its use. In those days it was heartening to imagine that some of my money was supporting a pair of major global corporations, because corporations rule the world and are better than governments.

But the patents expired twenty years ago, and ever since then Phillips and Sony have struggled, Phillips more than Sony. And the world went to shit as the rats took over.


Partially I felt a sense of melancholia. Compact discs were the future once. Now they are the past. The format isn't even a novelty joke. It's obsolescent, because it still works, and as of 2023 compact discs still outsell vinyl in the UK by almost two to one, but it obviously isn't the future any more.

Compact disc is in the odd position of simultaneously being killed off by the past and the future. The past, because vinyl is more appealing as a collectible, and the future, because streaming media is more convenient. It was eaten from both ends.

In the gap between writing and publishing this article I bought two more compact discs in 2025, which is this year. One was by a band called The Equatorial Stars. The other was by a band called Thursday Afternoon.

If a traveller from the future had told me, as a kid, that vinyl would still be available in the year 2025, I would have said "okay", and "that's actually fairly plausible", and "why 2025 in particular", and I would probably have gestured to my older brother's copy of Jeff Wayne's The War of the Worlds and its awesome booklet, and I would have pointed out that some people might still want to buy Beatles records on vinyl, and there might still be a market for vinyl in the third world, at which point the traveller from the future would have given up. But the point still stands.

Sunday, 1 June 2025

Every Jetliner Ever Made: Douglas

A Douglas DC-10 under construction

Let's have a look at Every Jetliner Ever Made. In alphabetical order, but with Airbus and Boeing at the end. Why? Because they won, and if they were at the beginning the other manufacturers would be footnotes, which isn't fair, especially in the case of Douglas.

There was a time when Douglas made more airliners than anybody else. During the 1940s the Douglas DC-3 accounted for around ninety per cent of all commercial airline travel, and well into the 1950s Douglas was the world leader. But the company was late to switch to jets, after which it spent the rest of its life on the back foot. It briefly gained the initiative with the DC-9, but only briefly, and in 1967 it was forced to merge with McDonnell. The rise of Airbus in the 1980s spelled doom for McDonnell-Douglas, and in 1997 the company was bought by Boeing, after which it ceased to exist. There's some debate as to how much of Douglas survives within Boeing, but at the very least the name is no longer used for jetliners.

Douglas was founded in 1921 by Donald Douglas, who was born in 1892. He was one of those old-school aviation pioneers who was born before heavier-than-air flight and lived long enough to see people walk on the moon. He learned his trade working for Glenn-Martin during the 1910s, before deciding to go it alone in the 1920s. In 1924 a pair of converted Douglas DT torpedo bombers became the first aircraft to circumnavigate the Earth, taking fifteen days, with multiple stops along the way. The stunt established the company's reputation for robust construction, after which Douglas concentrated on military contracts.

A DC-3

In 1932 Trans-World Airlines floated a request for a metal-skinned airliner. Ironically, given the subsequent course of world events, Donald Douglas was worried that Depression-era America was poised to cut defence spending, so he decided to submit a design. The DC-1, for Douglas Commercial 1, didn't quite meet TWA's requirements - it had two engines instead of three - but it won the competition. With its all-metal construction, low wing, and retractable undercarriage it was state-of-the-art. After further development the DC-1 evolved into the stretched, re-engined DC-2 of 1934, followed by the widened DC-3 of 1936.

The DC-3 went on to sell over 600 units, some of which are still flying today. By itself that made the DC-3 the best-selling airliner of the 1940s, but it was comprehensively overshadowed by the C-47 Skytrain, a militarised version of the DC-3 that made its first flight a few days before the United States entered the Second World War. In the years that followed Douglas built over 10,000 C-47s, many of which were converted after the war into airliners. Simultaneously the Soviet Union constructed over 4,000 licence-built Lisunov Li-2s, which were based on the DC-3 but had the cargo door arrangement of the C-47.

The airframe was so popular that it was even used by the Axis powers. Japan made over 400 modified DC-3s, having purchased a licence a few years before the war broke out. Lufthansa of Germany even operated a small fleet of DC-3s requisitioned from KLM of the Netherlands. The DC-3 remained popular in the post-war years and a handful of turboprop conversions are still flying today. It's an iconic aircraft.


Douglas' first post-war airliner was the DC-6, a piston-engined design that entered service in 1947. It was popular, but its success convinced Douglas that there was no reason to switch to jets just yet. As mentioned elsewhere in this series of articles the post-war US aviation industry didn't feel the same existential pressure to modernise as its European contemporaries, so for a few years the US giants - Douglas, Lockheed, and Convair - continued to sell piston airliners, while the likes of Vickers, de Havilland, and Sud-Aviation switched to turboprops and turbojets instead.

Douglas followed the DC-6 with the larger, faster DC-7, which entered service in 1953, at more or less exactly the same time as the jet-powered de Havilland Comet and the turboprop Vickers Viscount. The Comet's success was short-lived, but the Viscount was popular enough to sell to airlines in the United States, which worried the US aviation industry. One company that wasn't worried, however, was Boeing.

Boeing's pre-war airliner designs had all been technically advanced, but not especially popular, and during the war the company concentrated on multi-engined bombers such as the B-17 and B-29. After the war Boeing found itself in much the same position as post-war Europe. It needed to make a bold gesture in order to remain relevant, so in 1950 the company announced a project to design a new jetliner. Developing a jetliner was not cheap, but the success of the Comet and the Viscount convinced Boeing that it was on the right track.

A Douglas DC-7 fire-bomber

A Boeing B-47 bomber-bomber

Boeing had built up expertise in building multi-engined, swept-wing aircraft with the B-47, which entered service in 1951. By 1954 the company had a jetliner prototype, the Dash-80. It had a low wing, an even number of engines mounted in pods beneath the wings, and a low-mounted tailplane, essentially the same configuration as every modern jetliner, not least because subsequent Boeing designs used the same basic fuselage design.

Shortly after the Dash-80's first flight the US Air Force picked a derivate of the aircraft as the basis of a new, jet-powered aerial refuelling tanker. The tanker competition demonstrated how far the US aviation industry had started to lag behind. Technically Lockheed won the contract, but it didn't have a prototype. Its entry was still just a design study, and in the end the company withdrew without ever building an aircraft. Douglas submitted a design of its own, but again the aircraft only existed on paper. Only Boeing had an actual physical product in the air.

To its credit Douglas managed to rapidly catch up. After two years of design studies Douglas announced its own jetliner, the DC-8, in 1955. The specification was very similar to the 707, with four engines in pods under the wing, and sufficient range to cross the US non-stop and the Atlantic with a stop for fuel. One thing the DC-8 had over Boeing's design was a fuselage wide enough for six-abreast seating, with a passenger load of around 170 people. In contrast the early Boeing 707 prototypes had a narrower fuselage that could only seat around 120-140 passengers, and as a consequence the 707's development was delayed so that Boeing could widen the aircraft to match the DC-8.

Douglas hoped that US airlines would hold off on choosing a jetliner, because the technology was still new and Douglas had a solid reputation, but the 707 was an immediate success, and ultimately the DC-8 never managed to regain the ground Douglas had lost.


It's hard to write about the DC-8. Along with the 707 it was the prototype of all modern airliners, but to modern eyes it doesn't look revolutionary. Beyond its distinctive nose intakes - for cabin pressurisation and air conditioning - it had the same configuration as any modern jetliner, with engines in pods under the wing and a low-mounted tail. At the time pod-mounted engines were unusual. The Comet and Avro Jetliner had engines buried in the wings, while the Caravelle had rear-mounted engines. Pods interfered with airflow over the wing, but they had some advantages, including easier access and lower cabin noise. There was also no chance of turbulent air from the wings entering the engine intakes, and the weight counteracted the natural tendency of the wing to bend upwards in flight.

The original DC-8 was powered by turbojet engines of a type that was shared with early models of the B-52 bomber. Whenever it took off it left behind smoke trails of unburned fuel. The fine points of engine design are outside the scope of this document but suffice it to say that turbojets produce all of their thrust by venting expanded, superhot air from the back of the engine, which works well at cruising speed but is very inefficient during take-off.

From the early 1960s virtually all airline manufacturers switched to turbofan engines, which use some of the exhaust gas to power a multi-bladed fan mounted in front of the air intake. The fan generates thrust directly, very much like a turboprop, but because the fan blades are tightly encased in a cowling the tips of the blades can approach the speed of sound without generating the noisy sonic booms that limit the top speed of propeller blades.

For many years NASA used a re-engined, turbofan-powered DC-8 as a flying laboratory.

In the late 1950s Douglas upgraded the DC-8's engines with turbofans, which gave the DC-8-50 - the most popular variant - true non-stop transatlantic range. Sales still lagged behind the Boeing 707, but in the mid-1960s Douglas stretched the design into the Super DC-8, which had a potential passenger capacity of around 250, unusually large for the time.

This gave the DC-8 a second wind, and in 1969 and 1970 the DC-8 actually managed to outsell the 707, although the introduction of the Boeing 747 quickly overshadowed it. Production ceased in 1972, by which time Douglas had sold around 550 DC-8s, versus just over a thousand Boeing 707s, a figure that included the shortened Boeing 720. The DC-8 was apparently very robust, and from 1979 onwards several airlines opted to re-engine their DC-8s with modern CFM56 turbofans, the same engines that powered the contemporary Boeing 737 and Airbus A320. Ultimately 110 DC-8s were converted to use the new, more fuel-efficient engines, and several dozen of them remained in service as cargo aircraft well into the twenty-first century.

As mentioned earlier it's hard to write about the DC-8. Its configuration was unusual at the time but is now standard, albeit that it had two more engines that most modern airliners. It was outsold by the Boeing 707, and throughout its life it had a solid safety record. DC-8s were involved in several fatal accidents, but the vast majority were the result of human error or bad luck. On a personal level I have never flown in one, in fact the only British operators of the DC-8 were cargo airlines, and then only briefly in the late 1970s.

I wrote at the beginning of this document that Douglas only made three airliners. Technically it only made two. The second was the DC-9, which entered service in 1965. In 1967 Douglas merged with McDonnell to become McDonnell-Douglas, and the final design, the DC-10, was a McDonnell-Douglas aircraft, but I'm going to continue to use the Douglas name because it's easier to type.


Let's talk about the DC-9. To paraphrase Jane Austen, "it is a truth universally acknowledged that an aircraft manufacturer in possession of a mid-sized airliner must be in want of a smaller, regional airliner to flesh out its fleet and perhaps create vertical synergies", and so it was with Douglas. Immediately after work began on the DC-8 Douglas realised that it needed a range of different airliners if it was going to compete with Boeing, so the company teamed up with Sud-Aviation to licence-build Caravelles. In the end nothing came of this - the Caravelle was surprisingly unpopular in the US - so Douglas designed its own short-range airliner instead.

The resulting DC-9 had essentially the same specification as the Caravelle, with twin engines mounted on either side of the rear fuselage and a T-tail. It entered service in 1965, beating the Boeing 737 by almost two years. In retrospect it was Douglas' high water mark, a genuinely desirable product that came to market before the competition and outsold it. By the time the Boeing 737 entered service Douglas had stretched the DC-9 into the DC-9-30, which carried more passengers than the original 737 over a similar distance, while burning less fuel. Boeing eventually caught up with the stretched, re-engined 737-200, and gradually pulled ahead, but ultimately sales figures were almost neck-and-neck, with 976 DC-9s vs 1,114 original 737s.


Unfortunately for Douglas the success of the DC-9 turned out to be a major problem. Boeing managed to keep development costs of its jetliners down by reusing elements of the original 707. The 727, 737, and 757 all had essentially the same fuselage, with the 707 and 727 also sharing cockpits.

The DC-9 on the other hand was a completely fresh design. On the positive side the DC-9 exceeded Douglas' sales targets even before it had been launched, but the company found itself overwhelmed by the flood of orders. It was unable to build aircraft fast enough to meet demand, which led to expensive litigation. To make things worse the Vietnam War meant that Douglas' engine supplier, Pratt and Whitney, was similarly overwhelmed by military demand for its engines. As a result Douglas found itself stockpiling fuselages that had no engines, and eventually in 1967 the company merged with McDonnell.

An MD-80

The DC-9 was replaced in the early 1980s by the McDonnell-Douglas MD-80, which had more powerful engines and an enlarged wing. Passenger load went up to around 150, with a range of around 2,500 miles, which made it a lot more attractive to operators outside the US. Most of the DC-9's operators had been in the United States, but the MD-80 sold extensively to operators in Europe and the Far East.

The MD-80 turned out to be MDD's most popular jetliner, selling over a thousand units. On paper this was great news, but the 1980s saw a huge expansion of the aviation market. Global passenger flights almost doubled over the decade, and so although the MD-80 was popular, the competition was more popular still. Boeing ended up selling almost twice as many 737 Classics in this new, larger market, and there was another problem in the form of Airbus.

The first Airbus, the A300, was a hard sell, but in the end it caught on - tapping into a new market for long-range twin-jets - and from that point onwards Douglas found itself squeezed between Boeing and Airbus. Donald Douglas himself didn't live to see it, having passed away in 1981, which is perhaps for the best. In the mid-80s Airbus launched the A320, a short-to-mid-range jet that ended up outselling even the Boeing 737. It was slightly larger and longer-ranged than the 737, which in the mid-80s was getting long in the tooth, and so operators who wanted to replace their 737s opted for A320s instead. At the smaller end of the market McDonnell-Douglas' sales were nibbled away by a new wave of regional jets.

The MD-80 was too big to work as a regional jet, but not big enough to compete with the new 737 or A320, so MDD decided to stretch it. The resulting aircraft was launched in the early 1990s as the MD-90, essentially an MD-80 with a slightly longer fuselage and more efficient engines. Compared to the original DC-9 it was almost fifty feet longer. It had a distinctive look, almost like a flying pencil. In terms of passenger load it was on a par with the competition, but it lacked range, and in the end MDD only sold 116 of them, while the contemporary Boeing 737 and Airbus A320 models sold around 7-8000 units each.

In the early 1990s MDD announced the MD-95, which was an MD-90 shortened to the length of the original DC-9, but with the improved wings and engines of the later models. But MDD never had a chance to build it, because in 1997 the company was bought by Boeing. At the time MDD still made a lot of money from military contracts, and it was more a merger than a sale, but that was essentially the end for MDD's civilian airliner programme.

A Boeing 717

The MD-95 production line had been set up, so Boeing decided to continue selling the aircraft as the Boeing 717. It slotted nearly into Boeing's range beneath the 737, which by the late 1990s had grown into what would, by 1960s standards, have been a mid-sized mainstream airliner. After launch in 1999 the 717 turned out to be surprisingly popular, with sales of over 150 units, but it was struck by the general aviation downturn that followed 9/11, and production ceased in 2006. As of this writing around a hundred 717s remain in service, none in Europe. A few DC-9s and MD-80s remain flying as cargo or charter aircraft.

As with the DC-8 it's hard to write about the DC-9 and its heirs. It had no obvious design flaws and wasn't involved in any major controversies. The fact of it being a short-to-mid-range airliner meant that it had none of the glamour of the transatlantic giants, although its look - a thin fuselage with engines at the back - was attractive. In the UK they were a fairly common sight on account of the fact that Swissair and SAS both had large MD-80 fleets.


This leads us to the last Douglas airliner, the widebody DC-10. It was designed in the mid-1960s, at a time when the passenger aviation market was rapidly expanding. The industry anticipated a need for a large, high-capacity jet with enough range to cross the Atlantic. A kind of airbus, and surprisingly the term predated the airline company.

Boeing responded with the huge, four-engined 747. For a while the 747 seemed like an extravagance, so there was room for a slightly smaller widebody jet. Despite the troubled development of the C-5 Galaxy, Lockheed decided to re-enter the airline market. They came up with the three-engined L-1011 Tristar. Meanwhile Douglas developed a three-engined airliner of their own, the DC-10. In terms of specification the two aircraft were very similar, with passenger loads of around 250-270-300 depending on seating classes, and range of around 3,000-5,000 miles depending on variant.

The two aircraft were visually very similar as well. They both had three engines, two in pods beneath the wing and one in the tail. The DC-10's engine was hung behind the tail, with the intake pipe running in a straight line, while the Tristar's third engine was mounted at the rear of the fuselage, with an intake that curved down to meet it.

The Lockheed L-1011's third engine was mounted at the rear of the fuselage (top) while the Douglas DC-10's third engine hung behind the tail in a cleverly-designed cradle.

Why three engines? Trijets were fairly common in the 1960s and 1970s. The first designs, such as the Hawker Trident and the Boeing 727, were intended to fill the gap between small regional jets and the four-engined transatlantic airliners of the day, with the third engine adding extra oomph. Propeller-driven airliners often had a third engine mounted in the nose, but that wasn't practical for a jetliner, so the logical place to put the engine was the tail. The market for small trijets survived into the 1970s - the Trident and 727 were eventually joined by the Russian Tu-154 and Yak-42 - but by the 1980s a new generation of high-bypass turbofans killed them all off. The extra power of a third engine wasn't worth the complexity and expense.


There was another reason for three engines. ETOPS, which stands for "extended operations", or "extended-range twin-engined operation standards" depending on who you ask. In the 1960s and 1970s aviation rules were such that twin-engined airliners couldn't practically cross the Atlantic. They were forbidden from flying more than sixty minutes away from a diversion field in case one of the engines failed. But ETOPS didn't apply if an aircraft had more than two engines, so the 1960s and 1970s saw the rise of the transatlantic trijet. They remained in service until the 1990s, at which point further revisions to ETOPS rules meant that a new generation of large, twin-engined designs took over their routes. As of this writing the only trijets left in service are cargo conversions of the DC-10 and a few small business jets.

The DC-10 was controversial. Of the two major widebody trijets the general consensus nowadays is that the Lockheed Tristar was the better aircraft, with a more elegant engine layout and superior avionics. Unfortunately Lockheed had designed their airliner around a new Rolls-Royce engine that took longer to develop than planned, so it entered service a year after the DC-10, in 1972. With its head start the DC-10 went on to outsell the Tristar more than two-to-one, but it had problems.

A poor cargo door design crippled one aircraft in 1972 and led to the total loss of another in 1974 with the deaths of all on board. The door was engineered in such a way that it could be closed without locking solidly shut, after which cabin air pressure would eventually burst the door open. Another fatal accident in early 1979 resulted in the DC-10 being temporarily grounded, and a few months later a DC-10 involved in a sightseeing tour of Antartica crashed, again with the loss of all aboard. The two disasters of 1979 were technically not the fault of the aircraft - one was caused by poor engine maintenance, the other by incorrect navigation data - but the gruesome details of the crashes shook public confidence in the DC-10.

A further accident in 1989 highlighted a lack of redundancy in the aircraft's flight controls; although the aircraft had three hydraulic systems, the pipes were bunched together underneath the tail-mounted engine, with the result that an uncontained explosion of the engine's fan disk cut all three lines. In that case the pilots managed to avert total disaster by using differential engine thrust to steer left and right, but nowadays the DC-10 does not have a particularly positive reputation.

Unusually for Douglas there were only three major models of the DC-10, none of which were stretched. Douglas had plans for more, but competition from the Tristar and latterly the Airbus A300 ate into the company's market share, and by the end of production in 2000 the three-engined configuration was out of date. The DC-10-10, 10-30, and 10-40 were all the same size and had the same payload, but were differentiated by engines and fuel capacity, with the base model having a range of around 3,500 miles versus 5,000 for the 10-30 and 10-40. The 10-10 was capable of transatlantic flight, but was mostly used on domestic routes in the United States, whereas the -30 and -40 were comfortably able to cross the Atlantic from anywhere in the United States to anywhere in Europe, or from Europe to the Far East.

There was also a military variant, an the KC-10 Extender, a multi-purpose cargo aircraft stroke aerial refuelling tanker. It was introduced in 1977 as a larger analogue of the Boeing 707-derived KC-135. Unlike the civilian DC-10 the KC-10 had a fantastic safety record. Of the sixty purchased by the USAF only one was lost, and that was the result of a ground fire. It was withdrawn from service in the 2020s in favour of a replacement based on the Boeing 767.

An MD-11

McDonnell-Douglas introduced a second-generation DC-10 in the 1980s. At the time the company found itself in a bind. The DC-8 was leaving service; the DC-9 was still popular, but growing old; the DC-10 was being pushed aside by competition from Airbus. Lacking the resources to develop a ground-up successor the company decided to stretch the DC-10 and give it more efficient wings. The resulting MD-11 entered service in 1990.

Lockheed had discontinued the Tristar in 1984, leaving the long-range trijet market entirely to Douglas. But it was a market without a future, and the MD-11 only sold 200 units. With a range of around 6,000 miles and a capacity of 300-400 passengers the MD-11 competed directly with the Airbus A330, A340, and Boeing 777, selling fewer units than any of them, far fewer in the case of the A330 and 777. After the merger with Boeing in 1997 the MD-11 remained on the market, with the last model - a freighter - rolling off the production line in 2000. That was the end of the McDonnell-Douglas name, although as mentioned earlier the Boeing 717 remained in production until 2006.

There were proposals for one more aircraft, the MD-12, a four-engined, twin-deck super-jumbo that resembled the Airbus A380. Given the problems that affect the A380 the general consensus is that it would have been a disaster, and in the end nothing came of it.

And that was Douglas, a company fascinating both for its aircraft and also as a business case. In fact Jonathan Leonard and Adam Pilarski's Overwhelmed by Success: What Killed Douglas Aircraft (PDF) is an interesting read even if you don't care about the aviation industry. I'm not an expert, but among the reasons mentioned above it strikes me that Douglas' airliners all shared one common problem, which is that their general configurations had a limited shelf-life.

- The DC-8, for example, had been designed at a time when a mid-to-large-sized jetliner needed four engines. But in the 1970s a new generation of high-power turbofans meant that two engines could do the work of four, at less cost and with less complexity, so quad-jets such as the DC-8 gradually died off. Boeing kept itself relevant with the twin-engined 757 of 1981, but Douglas gave up on the mid-sized market in the early 1970s and never developed a 757 competitor.

- The DC-9 was designed with rear-mounted engines, but this configuration was hard to service and hard to load, because rear-engined aircraft have a habit of tipping over backwards. It also meant that the wings needed to be extra-strong and therefore extra-heavy, as there was nothing to counteract their tendency to bend upwards in flight. The DC-9's basic design therefore ended up as a dead end, and nowadays only business jets and small regional jets have rear-mounted engines. The conventionally-engined Boeing 737 and Airbus A320, in contrast, are two of the best-selling airliners of all time, and are still in production.

- The DC-10's trijet configuration only made sense in a certain time period, after which trijets were replaced with a new generation of high-powered, high-capacity twinjets. Douglas actually proposed a twin-engined DC-10, but this was in the early 1970s, at a time when manufacturers were sceptical of high-capacity twinjs. By the time a twin-engined widebody airliner might have won orders, Boeing had the 767 and Airbus had the A300, which were both much newer than the DC-10, and a few years later the two companies had the 777 and A330 twinjets, which were even larger.

Ultimately Douglas designed three popular airliners, but instead of replacing them when necessary it found itself compelled to upgrade them, until it was too late. Of the company's jet-powered products only the DC-9 remains in passenger service in 2025, albeit as the Boeing 717, although several DC-10 derivatives are still flying as cargo aircraft.

Next, Embraer.