This is only a preview of the February 1988 issue of Silicon Chip. You can view 35 of the 96 pages in the full issue, including the advertisments. For full access, purchase the issue for $10.00 or subscribe for access to the latest issues. Items relevant to "Studio 200 Stereo Power Amplifier":
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His Master's Voice
ae-
IT HAS 1t>
SOME11\lNG
One of the side effects of TV servicing is the
opportunity - albeit enforced - to study a wide
variety of customer's personalities. While most
customers are fairly easy-going and philosophical
about an equipment failure, there is a small
percentage who exhibit a variety of strange - and
sometimes irritating - quirks.
While these idiosyncrasies cover
a wide range, there are a few that
can be fairly well categorised. For
example, there is the silent type;
the customer who is completely
unable or unwilling to provide any
information whatsoever - particularly over the phone - concerning the symptoms, any relevant
history, or even the model of device
involved. One is lucky to get the
maker's name. Their philosophy is:
"It's stopped - you fix it".
Then we have the exact opposite;
the loquacious type who insists on
providing every tiny - and usually
irrelevant - detail surrounding the
failure. They will have noted the exact time, the progam that was running, and the details of the drama being unfolded on the screen, including pistol shots, body blows,
and car crashes. Why they believe
such information is important I
can't imagine, but at least they tend
to be amenable to answering
questions.
Another one is what I call the
pessimistic type. Whenever a fault
blacks out the screen he
automatically assumes - indeed
insists - that the picture tube has
failed. Not only that, but he often
positively resents any attempt on
the part of the serviceman to discount this possibility. It seems to be
an obsession amounting almost to a
death wish.
This type has his opposite also,
although I think that the motivation
is easier to understand. He insists
60
SILICON CHIP
that " .. .it has to be something simple". Various reasons can be offered for this assumption, ranging
from the fact that the set has only
recently been serviced, to observations that it ran for only a few
seconds after switch-on or, conversely, it ran for several hours
before it failed. Unfortunately, I
have never been able to see the
relevance of any of these two
points.
But I have no doubt that, basically, this is a type of wishful thinking;
if it is a simple fault, it won't cost
much. More than that I suspect that
it is a way of putting pressure on
the serviceman; they hope to bluff
him into believing that they know it
is only a simple fault and that
therefore a large bill is inappropriate.
Some carry the idea a stage further by nominating the faulty component and insisting that this, and
only this, is what needs to be
changed.
Which brings me to Bill, because
Bill is just such a character. Bill
Special Notice
These notes are being contributed by the author who, from
1950 until July last year, wrote
"The Serviceman" in another
magazine. We feel sure that
regular readers of that series will
welcome the opportunity to continue following his adventures in
SILICON CHIP.
5\MPL-E:
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lives not far from my shop and I
have known him at a casual level
for many years. Now Bill is a nice
enough bloke in most respects very kind to his mother and all that
- but he can be a bit of a nuisance
when a service job is involved.
Basically, the problem seems to be
that he attaches more significance
to our acquaintanceship than is
really justified; at least from where
I stand.
One of his nasty habits is to ring
me up immediately, either at the
shop or at my home, whenever his
TV set fails. This can be at 5.30 in
the morning or 10.30 at night. But
the real irony of this situation is
that, when he does ring, he always
insists that the problem is not
urgent, pointing out that he has
another set!
If you're wondering where all
this is heading, the answer is simple; this month's story is about Bill's
set and the merry dance it led me
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There's not much to the chopper power supply of the HMV C221 but there's quite enough to give plenty of trouble.
over a period of some 12 months.
This was not helped by Bill looking
over my shoulder and telling me
what he was convinced needed to
be done.
The set in question is an HMV
model C221, the second-generation
colour set made by HMV in
Australia. The C221 is fairly old
now but there are plenty of them
about and, by and large, they have
proved to be very reliable.
In fact, Bill's set had given very
little trouble until about 12 months
ago, when Bill called me at home at
some inconvenient time one evening
tO report that the set had failed, adding the first of many similar
remarks that I was to hear over the
next 12 months: "It's got to be
something simple".
It's the switch
Because Bill lives so close to the
shop I elected to call on him at the
first convenient time next day. He
was· still insisting that it had to be
something simple, but had now added his own diagnosis. "I reckon it's
the switch. Change that and I
reckon it'll fix it," he declared.
I didn't enquire as to the basis of
his diagnosis but I gained the im-
pression that it was along the line
that, since nothing happened when
the switch was activated, the
switch must be at fault. In fact the
set was completely dead and it was
not unreasonable to suspect the
power supply, which is a fairly
standard arrangement with a
bridge rectifier fed directly from
the mains and delivering · about
300V to a switchmode system.
To placate Bill, I checked the output of the bridge rectifier, which is
quite readily accessible. It was
delivering its rated voltage, which
immediately cleared not only the
switch, but the rectifier, a couple of
RF chokes, a couple of fuses, and
sundry minor components. I even
went so far as to point this out to
Bill, but it didn't seem to register.
With the system cleared thus far,
it was time to remove the cover
from the switchmode section and
delve a bit deeper. When these
power supplies fail, it is usually
because the chopper transistor,
TR103 (BU326A), has broken down.
When it does, it usually takes out
the 2-amp fuse (FS101) and usually
the regulating thyristor, TR102
(BR203).
So I looked first at the fuse, ex-
pecting it to be a blackened mass.
But it wasn't and the meter confirmed that voltage was being applied to the collector of the chopper
transistor. So where to from here?
There were a whole host of components in this section, any one of
which could shut the system down
if it failed, so it was largely a matter of trying to pick the most likely
culprit.
I decided to check the three solid
state devices first, commencing
with the chopper transistor, mainly
because it's easy to remove. And
would you believe it, I picked it in
one? A check with the multimeter
indicated that the base-emitter
junction appeared to be intact but
the collector-base junction was
open-circuit. This was something I
hadn't expected because, as I intimated earlier, the usual failure of
this device is a breakdown.
Anyway, I had a spare device in
the van and it took only a few
moments to fix it. And of course,
that was it; the set came good immediately and Bill expressed his
delight, even though I had effectively disproved his diagnosis. He was
strangely quiet about that as we
settled up.
FEBR UA RY1988
61
SERVICEMAN'S LOG
IT'S STOFf'EO
\SN"f'
\i...
~
Y' orta change the switch
Naturally, I hoped that would be
the end of Bill and his C221. But it
was not to be. All went well for
about three months, then Bill was
on the phone again at some inconvenient hour, complaining that.the set
had stopped again. Again he was
adamant; "I reckon it's the switch.
Y'orta change the switch".
So once again it was into Bill's
lounge room and into the works of
the set. As before, the set was completely dead, with all the indications that the power supply was out
of action. I went through the same
routine as before; voltage across
the bridge, fuse obviously intact,
voltage at the chopper collector,
but no switching action.
All this time Bill was muttering
away in the background about the
switch and I was feeling heartily
fed up with his domineering manner. I happened to glance at the
manufacturer's logo and mentally
translated the "HMV" into "His
Master's Voice" and, as I did so,
realised that this expression had a
much more significant meaning
here than its creator had ever intended. From now on, Bill would be
nicknamed "His Master's Voice".
For the second time I pulled out
62
SILICON CHIP
if!l't'""•
the chopper transistor and checked
it. But it wasn't going to be that
easy; this time it was OK. Then I
remembered a nasty fault I had encountered many years ago in this
set's predecessor, the C211. A lt.tF
capacitor, C104, in the thyristor circuit, had a nasty habit of dropping
its value and, when it did, the
system simply would not work.
In fact, the CZ 11 had a lot of
capacitor faults, mainly involving
low value Japanese electrolytics,
which were very prone to
premature drying out. When the
C221 appeared it was significant
that these had been replaced by
European types. These proved so
reliable that I cannot recall ever
having to replace one. Nevertheless, there could always be a
first time so I pulled C104 out and
checked it. It came up spot on value
and I discarded that theory.
The other two active devices,
TR101 and TR102, are fairly easily
checked in situ, at least for any
catastrophic failures, and these
were both cleared. So what now?
Again I was reminded of the C211,
which had a nasty reputation, at
least in early production runs, of
dry joints in its version of this
board. This was a problem which
was overcome with the advent of
the C221, but again there could be a
first time.
I pulled the board out and, armed
with the jeweller's loupe, began a
detailed examination of the copper
side. It wasn't the best environment
for such an examination. It was late
in the afternoon and the lighting in
Bill's lounge room, both natural and
artificial, left much to be desired.
Nevertheless, I did find a dry joint.
It involved a 750, 10W resistor,
Rl 14, one of several high wattage
resistors on this board. These are
IRC wirewound resistors enclosed
is a square section ceramic case,
about 4.5cm long, and which normally run at a fairly high
temperature at their maximum
rating. A further refinement is that,
in this set, they are fitted with a
three-legged metal frame which
supports them vertically, with the
bottom of the resistor case about
2cm above the board.
The lower pigtail goes straight
down through the board, while the
upper one is bent through 180°, lies
along the side of the resistor, and is
spot welded to the metal frame.
Lugs on the metal frame pass
through holes in the board and
make contact with the copper pattern. It is a very effective arrangement, supporting the resistor clear
of the board and other heatsensitive components and also
assisting the flow of air around it.
And, significantly, I cannot recall
any of these resistors ever having
failed.
Nor was there anything wrong
with the resistor in this case, just
the dry joint on the board which
was quickly fixed. And away went
the set again, effectively silencing
the mutterings about the switch.
Again I hoped that that would be
the end of the matter.
It's gotta be the switch
No such luck. Another three or
four months went by then the phone
rang early one morning and, with a
sinking heart, I recognised His
Master's Voice. The set had stopped again and he was convinced it
was the switch! I didn't argue; I
simply told him I would be around
later in the day.
Not to labour the point, I found
the situation exactly as before;
voltage on the chopper transistor,
all active components cleared, but
no switching action. Of course, it
could have been a failed component
anywhere and I was conditioning
myself to a component by component check. But I was also thinking
again of dry joints. I had already
found one and there could possibly
be more that I had missed.
So I pulled the board out and
went over it again. I found a couple
of joints which were suspect and resoldered them without any great
conviction. Then I put the board
back and switched on. The set came
good, but with one qualification; I
felt sure that there was a small
delay after switch-on before the set
leapt into action. Sure enough, it
ran for about half a minute then
stopped. And no amount of prodding or bashing would start it
again.
So I had an intermittent and, in
view of what I had already found, I
knew I had to rule out the possibility of more dry joints before I looked
further. I also decided that Bill's
lounge room with its limited lighting
was no place for the job. It needed
the good lighting I had on my
workbench, plus some peace and
quiet away from His Master's
Voice.
Since I didn't fancy carting the
whole set back to the shop I simply
pulled the board out and took it
with me. And when I finally set it up
under R good light I was shocked at
the number of faulty or highly
suspect joints I found. So much so
that I stopped looking after a while,
A faulty spot weld on the frame of this wirewound resistor gave no trouble
for 10 years and then played merry hell.
and simply reached for the iron and
went right over the board, remaking every joint.
Unfortunately, I had no way of
checking what I had done, since I
had no similar set in the workshop.
So, at the first opportunity, it was
back to the set where I plugged the
board in and switched on. Need I
spell it out? The set was just dead
as it had ever been.
Bill wasn't impressed. "I reckon
it's the switch, y'know. Orta change
that switch".
"Yes Bill!" It was all I could trust
myself to say.
I decided the best thing to do was
to bring the whole set back to the
workshop where I could really get
to grips with it, and where I could
work in peace until I was convinced
that the fault had been found and
fixed. So, back at the shop, I pulled
the board out and went over the
copper side again in case I had
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missed anything. I found nothing, so
I turned my attention to the component side.
The truth is I wasn't quite sure
what to try next and was simply
looking at the board hoping for inspiration. And suddenly there was
the culprit. It was another one of
those vertically mounted IRC
resistors, R112, an 8.20 5W unit.
More specifically it was the lead
from the top of the resistor and its
connection to the metal frame.
The frame is made with a small
tongue punched out of the body,
under which the pigtail is placed,
the tongue pressed down and the
junction spot welded. Only in this
case the pigtail had simply been
pushed under the tongue and left at
that. The tongue had never been
pressed down and there was certainly no sign that a spot welder
had ever been anywhere near it.
The wonder, of course, is not that
it had failed but that it had worked
for 10 years or more before it did
so. I pulled out the whole unit,
cleaned and tinned the pigtail, did
the same to the tongue and surrounding metal frame, secured the
pigtail properly under the tongue,
then finished it off with a generous
blob of solder. The set sprang into
life immediately I switched it on,
and I had no doubt that I had finally
fixed it.
I gained the impression that Bill
wasn't so sure when I returned the
set and tried to explain to him.what
I had found. But that was many
months ago and I have not heard
from him since. I'm sure I will if all
is not well, so I'm keeping my
fingers crossed.
A weird National
My next story concerns a rather
weird set of symptoms as displayed
by a National colour TV set, model
FEBRUARY 1988
63
TC2004. And, if there is anything to
be learned from it, it is probably
that one should never judge the
complexity of a fault by the symptoms; an apparently straightforward fault can turn out to have the
most complex and obscure cause,
while a complex combination of apparently unrelated faults can
sometimes have a quite simple
cause - though not necessarily one
which is easy to find.
The story started with a phone
call from the owner who complained that he had no picture. I tried to
determine whether there was a
raster on the screen, and whether
there was any sound. I didn't learn
much. Apparently there was some
sound but it was "kinda funny",
while the description of the screen
was that there was a bright band in
the middle and a wide black band
top and bottom.
Well, it didn't sound like a set of
symptoms I would like to tackle in
the lounge room, so I suggested it
would be better, and a bit cheaper
for him, if he could bring the set in.
And so the set duly landed on my
counter. I plugged it in and turned it
on while the owner was still there,
just in case there were any points to
be clarified.
In fact, the owner's description
was not all that far out. There was
a raster, about 15cm high, in the
middle of the screen, which was
blacked out above and below.
There was absolutely no sign of a
picture and the sound was
somewhat distorted. In addition,
the raster was overly bright possibly because of its reduced
height - but more importantly
would not respond to the brightness
control and only very slightly to the
contrast control.
Well, with a list of symptoms like
that, the real question was where to
start. Basically, it was a toss-up
between the loss of vertical scan
and the loss of luminance, or video
signal. Hopefully, the lack of
response to the brightness and contrast controls might be related one
to the other.
Waveform checks
I decided to tackle the vertical
fault first and, as a preliminary
check, tried adjusting the height
control, but I wasn't really surpris64
SILICON CHIP
TETIA CORNER
Sony KV1800-AS
Symptom: picture collapsed down
to 5cm high. Vertical hold, height
and linearity controls all seem to
work OK, but only on the low
raster.
Cure: C512 (2200µF 16VW)
open circuit. Without this emitter
bypass, negative feedback in
0502 vertical amplifier reduces its
gain and causes low height. A clue
is that all DC voltages around the
circuit seem close to normal.
ed when it had only minimal effect.
Connecting the CRO to appropriate
points around the vertical output
stage, TR407 and TR408, left no
doubt that the amplitude was way
down. On the other hand, all the
voltages applied to these transistors were virtually spot on.
I moved back to the oscillator
section, TR402 and 403, and checked the waveforms here. Results
here were less conclusive. The
waveforms were close to those
shown on the circuit, but far
enough away to make me
suspicious. Subsequent checks at
the intermediate stages, TR404 and
405, showed that the waveforms
had now deteriorated quite
significantly.
It all added up to a rather puzzling situation whereby the fault
seemed to be present to some
degree everywhere in the chain, yet
nowhere in particular. To be frank,
I wasn't quite sure what to try next
and eventually decided to put that
problem on hold and track down the
loss of video. At least I would be doing something worthwhile.
The video signal is handled by a
16-pin IC, IC301, type AN-425. In
simple terms it takes the video
signal in on pin 14 and delivers it on
pin 6. Feeding a colour bar
generator into the set produced a
typical staircase pattern at pin 14,
exactly according to the circuit,
and similarly on pin 6. So far, so
good.
From pin 6 the signal goes to the
base of video amplifier TR301,
functioning as an emitter follower.
The signal was normal at both the
input and output of this stage,
which is the last before the red,
green and blue output stages on the
neck board. The signal goes via pin
6 of a plug and socket combination,
CO-lP and CO-lS, then to the Y7
terminal on the neck board, and
then to the emitters of the three output stages, for mixing with the
chrominance signals which are applied to the bases of these stages.
I traced the signal through to the
three aforementioned emitters and
SERVICE.MAN'S LOG
found that all was well up to these
points. But that was as far as it
went; there was virtually no signal
on any of the collectors. And since
it was unlikely that all three transistors had failed simultaneously, it
just had to be a voltage problem.
A clue at last
The voltage on these collectors is
supposed to be around 125V but the
best I could find was a mere 12V;
small wonder we had nothing on the
screen. But at least I had a clue to
one of the faults - all I had to do
now was find where this voltage
originated and why it wasn't being
supplied.
Unfortunately, it is not practical
to reproduce the circuit since it
would be far too large to encompass
all the points involved. In brief,
however, the collector voltages are
derived via 10k0 load resistors
from a common 160V supply line.
This line leaves the neck board at
"Yl ", goes to pin 3 of socket C0-2S,
and then to plug C0-2P on the
horizontal scan board. (This plug
and socket pair are separated by
nearly the width of the circuit).
From here the line follows a
rather circuitous route to the vicinity of the horizontal output
transformer, and pin 6-2 of this
transformer in particular. In
greater detail, this rail is derived
from pin 6-2 via a 3.30 resistor, a
small choke, a diode D553, and a
lOµF 250V electrolytic filter
capacitor, C564.
Naturally, these few components
were prime suspects although I
couldn't rule out that a fault
somewhere else was loading the
line. The choke and resistor were
quickly cleared, then I lifted one
end of diode D553 and checked it.
But the diode checked OK, leaving
only the electrolytic capacitor
(C564).
I pulled the electro out and
measured it. And that was it; instead of the supposed lOµF the best
it could manage was a mere .OlµF.
Well, at least I had solved one problem; replace the capacitor and I
should have a picture on the
screen, even if it was squashed.
Then I could concentrate on the
scan fault.
So the electro was replaced and I
switched on hopefully. And sure
enough, up came a picture in full
colour. But that wasn't all; all the
other faults had vanished as well.
The picture was back to normal
height, the brightness and contrast
controls were functioning correctly, and the distortion had vanished
from the sound. All with one
capacitor.
Naturally, I was both delighted
and surprised; delighted because I
didn't have to look for any more
faults and surprised because I
hadn't realised the full ramifica-
Servicing in the South Pacific
literally translates as "The pea
soup is finished," but really conveys finality. Cross-cultural relationships create some interesting
language.
Having acquitted myself of that
sticky situation, I now found I had
to face the honour of a meal. Four
serving girls brought a number of
curious dishes - which I alone ate
in the centre of a throng of people,
all eyes on me. Perhaps to see if I
would refuse their food? Not likely,
mate. For one who has shared unnamed delicacies in Saudi Arabia,
few culinary surprises are left.
continued from p52
I'm not sure, but I think they then
made me an honorary member of
the village. Suddenly, the driver
realised how late it was and
shouted, "The plane, the plane!"
Bidding the people a fond and
hasty farewell, we raced to the
Land Rover - which no longer had
its insecure hardtop. If that driver
ever comes to Australia, he could
have the pole position at the
Adelaide Grand Prix, no risk! With
not a moment to spare, we screeched to a stop at the airstrip. Lo, the
Fokker was already revving its
engines. I raced to the port side and
tions of the 160V rail. I reached for
the circuit again and indulged in a
spot more tracing. Not surprisingly,
I found that this rail also supplies
the vertical oscillator circuit or,
rather, part of it.
As I mentioned earlier, this stage
consists of two transistors, TR402
and TR403, employing a fairly
straightforward feedback arrangement. But TR402 is fed from a 24V
rail, while TR403 is fed from the
160V rail via the height control. Apparently, the 12V I found on the
160V rail was sufficient to keep the
stage oscillating, but at a reduced
amplitude.
This aspect puzzled me somewhat because the waveform checks
I had made, while not perfect, had
not been all that far out. Then I
looked at the circuit again and
realised that the waveforms shown,
and which I had checked, were all
associated with TR402, which was
functioning more or less normally
from the 24V rail.
The only remaining puzzle concerns the sound fault. I can find no
direct relationship between the
160V rail and the sound system.
The sound IC, IC251, appears to
derive its supply from the commutator section on the deflection
board and I have not been able to
relate this to the 160V rail.
Unfortunately, there is a limit to
the time one can spend trying to
work out all the smart tricks the
designers pull. For the present, I am
happy to accept that the fault has
been cured, even if I'm not quite
sure why.
~
threw myself into a seat as the craft
started down the strip.
If landing was a shock, the
takeoff was a real thrill. At maximum revs, it was as though the
island fell away under us. As I
stared down at the blue Pacific, I
noticed that one of my meter leads
was caught in the door. The
slipstream knocked it about until it
frayed apart and dropped far down
to the ocean beneath us.
As we drew closer to the big
island, I reflected that the life of a
field service engineer holds many
surprises - and that technical
knowledge is often the least of your
worries.
~
FEBRUARY1988
65
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