Page 2: The Rebirth Of Keith Emerson's Moog Modular

Even the unique Preset Modules of the original have been recreated.

Moog had already given Stopp permission to build a small number of the modules that, to this day, hold Emerson's presets. (At one time, there had been seven of these in the synth, but by the time that he took delivery of it in 2011, only five remained. No‑one seemed to know what had happened to the other two, but one thing was clear: should another fail irreparably, it would make it impractical for Emerson to perform some ELP tracks.) Consequently, it was perhaps unsurprising that Moog gave Kehew and Stopp a tentative 'go‑ahead' to develop a complete synthesizer.

The next stage was to assemble some test boards and panels. Using a 921B oscillator as a guinea pig, they ran into an unexpected problem. The electronics were fine, but different incarnations of the front panel came out a bit too shiny, or with a bit of a purple tinge, or were a bit too black when compared with the originals. But finally, after numerous attempts, they got it right. It was a key moment; they weren't just in a position to manufacture new modules, they were in a position to make accurate clones of the originals.

Nevertheless, there were to be numerous additional hurdles as they attempted to clone the whole synth, and it proved to be the seemingly trivial stuff that caused the biggest problems. Panels could be punched and printed, and even obsolete chips could be found in surplus stores. But the biggest headaches came from the red, green, white and blue switches that route the signals within the original synth. These had been discontinued in the 1960s, and although Stopp found a supplier who had some stock, they all had red actuators. So he bought a number and took one to a 3D printing company, together with examples of the actuators from Keith's synth, and asked whether they could replicate the correct colours and degrees of translucence. Astonishingly, the printers were able to do so, so Stopp bought the rest of the switches, and another problem had been overcome. Similarly, Stopp and Kehew had to find a way to replicate the fire switch in the top left‑hand corner of the synth. Although it's not a synthesizer module (it was a gift that was mounted on a panel because Emerson thought that it looked cool) it had become a significant part of the synth's image, so they approached a machine shop that was prepared to manufacture a replica.

Another thorny issue concerned the new synth's power supply. Those installed in early Moogs were designed to power single- (or, at most, dual-) cabinet synths, and no‑one had expected them to be used in something as large as Keith's instrument. What's more, since the aim in 1965 had been to push the boundaries of sound rather than to play semitones in perfect tune across five octaves, the acceptable degree of instability was far greater than when synths became primarily soloing instruments just a few years later. So a decision had to be made: should the clone have an original PSU with all of its limitations and instabilities, or should it incorporate a new design that could power the instrument comfortably? Eventually, the decision was made to install a modern unit that would provide the correct power no matter what loading was placed upon it.

Finally, there was the metal shell that protects the synth while on the road. To reproduce this, Kehew and Stopp approached a racing-car welding shop that they found on the Internet, took them some drawings and asked, "Can you make one of these for us in under two weeks?” To their surprise, the answer was 'yes'. They then had to get permission from Moog's management to incur the extra cost and were surprised, again, to be told, "While you're at it, get three made.” Clearly, Moog Music were now committed to building at least one replica, and considering more, so work proceeded with the target of having the first synth ready in March 2014.

...Of The Emerson Moog Modular

I asked Kehew how much leeway they had been prepared to allow themselves during this phase. "With the exception of the power supply, very little,” he told me. "The whole concept was that the replica had to be almost indistinguishable from the original — not only the sound and the appearance, but even the feel of each knob and switch, the feel of the metalwork... everything. We knew that we might have to change something if it was the difference between the project being possible or not, but we hoped that we wouldn't have to do so. Ultimately, this was a proof of concept assembled to determine just how close we could get.”

The reborn Emerson modular system in all its glory. Despite the original deadline having passed some weeks before, Roger The Synth was still a work in progress when I arrived at Moog Music on 16th April, with a handful of modules being populated and fine‑tuned to achieve the desired performance. I asked Stopp how close he felt it was to the original. "At the moment, it's more than 90 percent there,” he told me, "but in the next week, without too much effort, I should be able to make it 100 percent.” I then asked whether, allowing for component tolerances, he truly believed that the two would sound identical. "Yes, without reservation. I suspect that the only difference will be that the clone will be more reliable. It has fresh wiring, fresh solder joints, and knobs and switches that haven't been used for up to 40 years. Otherwise, it should be indistinguishable.”

Nonetheless, I wasn't surprised when I uncovered numerous minor faults as I tested it. For example, the main filter glitched. There was no apparent reason for this, but Stopp tracked it down to the sample & hold module, which was leaking a clock pulse into the wiring loom. Usually inaudible, this became apparent in a simple trumpet patch that I had created. Once identified, the problem was fixed within a couple of hours. Another fault involved a popping sound generated when one oscillator was clamped (hard‑sync'ed) to another. Again, Stopp tracked it down and devised a solution. Other unexpected results were also identified, resulting in numerous modules being whipped out, only to be returned a few hours later. I even identified a glitch on Emerson's own synth, which was caused by a clock retriggering a ramp generator in the drone synthesizer. You might ask why these problems only came to light when I arrived, but there is a sensible reason; Emerson's synth had been patched the same way for years to carry out a particular job, and Roger had up to that point been tested only against those sounds. Nobody had had the opportunity to test the modules in a more analytical way, creating sounds that Emerson himself had probably never tried.

Happily, once the glitches were eliminated (and they all were) Roger was in fine shape and I could think about reviewing it. But how? Sure, I could set up simple sounds on both synths — say, something as basic as one oscillator on each directly to the output mixer — and when I did so, I found Stopp was right... they sounded all but identical. I could also patch both synths to create the complex sounds used by ELP, whereupon I found that I could jump between the two without a break, leaving most listeners unaware that I had done so. But while these exercises told me that the new instrument was genuinely what it claimed to be (ie. a clone) it still doesn't help me to tell you how it sounds. Maybe I could save a few hundred words by writing, "listen to Emerson Lake & Palmer's live albums. It sounds like that”. But, of course, Emerson's sounds are just a snapshot of its capabilities. Roger is a huge modular synth that can perform myriad tasks that Emerson never asked of it, and myriad more besides. So I came up with (what I hope was) a neat solution: since I was in Moog's factory and had access to every synth they make, I compared Roger to the company's flagship Voyager XL. I am a big fan of the XL, and with good reason; it's beautiful, it has a five‑octave keyboard, it's a joy to play, and it can sound excellent. But when I placed it next to the modular and set up the lead sound for 'Lucky Man' on both, the XL continued to sound excellent, whereas the modular sounded incredible. Likewise for the detuned 'fifth' sounds that Emerson uses for tracks such as 'Hoedown' and 'Tarkus', and almost anything else, nothing made the XL sound quite like the modular. How can I describe the difference? Weight? Authority? Power? All of these words are appropriate, but perhaps the most meaningful word that I can use to convey my feelings is to say that Roger simply sounded bigger.

Part of the reason for this lies in the Moog 905 spring reverb module (see box). The more that I played the synth, the more I realised how much of its character derives from this, to the extent that it wouldn't be the same instrument if you took it away. Sure, you can add a suitable reverb to the Voyager XL (or, for that matter, anything else) but it just doesn't sound quite the same.

Of course, there has to be a cost, and there is: noise. Moog's modular designs hail from a bygone era when such things were rather less important than they are today. When I mixed the Keith Emerson Band at Moogfest, one of the first things that I had to do was put a gate across Emerson's Moog. Meanwhile, Stopp was busy building an acoustically damped enclosure for the spring reverb tank and soldering a set of extended leads so that it could be placed in another room to avoid the howling feedback that accompanied almost any significant level of signal passing through it. The clone is no different so, if you're expecting it to have a digitally clean signal path, forget it. This thing molests every sound passing through it, distorting it in all manner of subtle ways and adding small amounts of noise at almost every turn. But the defects tend to add to, rather than detract from, the character of the result. As lead guitarists from the 1960s onward have discovered, coloration isn't necessarily a bad thing, and purity isn't always the goal.

If all of this sounds like the ramblings of a star‑struck teenager, please be assured that it's not. Minimoogs are great, ARP 2600s are great, Memorymoogs, Rev 1 Prophet 5s and Yamaha GX1s are great, digital synths such as the Korg OASYS and the Kronos that Emerson uses nowadays are great, and I love them all, but none of them sound like Emerson's Moog Modular. Furthermore, there's nothing quite like having the instrument under your fingers. While there are some excellent software emulations of vintage synths out there, they're still not the same as playing the originals. So if you're thinking of offering the insane amount of money that would be necessary to prise Roger from Gene Stopp's clutches, you can be assured that — whatever people might think of you, and to whichever institution they might try to have you committed — you'll have an instrument that feels and sounds like no other, except, of course, for Keith's own synth and any other clones that Moog might choose to manufacture.

So What Does It All Mean?

Sometime in the early 1970s, something important was lost. The early synthesists were genuinely pushing the boundaries of sound, not limiting themselves to generating the next squelchy bass line that sounds almost indistinguishable from the previous thousand squelchy bass lines. And, more than anyone else outside of the avant garde community, Keith Emerson was pushing those boundaries, attempting things that nobody else even contemplated. Sure, by 1973 everyone was soloing brilliantly, and dexterity with pitch‑bend, modulation wheels and aftertouch was de rigeur, but Emerson's sounds were far more aggressive and interesting.

Consequently, it has always been my dream — and that of many other players — to own the sort of synthesizer that made this possible. But on the very, very rare occasions that one has become available, it hasn't necessarily contained the right mix of oscillators and filters, or maybe it had too few VCAs and contour generators, or no LFOs or... well, you get the picture. I was always aware that I could say a tearful farewell to a huge wodge of cash, and never have the opportunity to buy the extra modules, cabinets or power supplies that would make the synth do what I wanted. So I never bought one. I might be a fan, but I'm not stupid.

But today, Moog Music have demonstrated beyond doubt that they are capable of rebuilding their modular synths. Although Roger's birth was orchestrated by Kehew and Stopp (who ensured the historical accuracy of the new modules and took care of the technical details, respectively), many people at Moog's factory in Asheville contributed to its creation: so, whether you want to buy a convenient 1P or System 10, or a mighty 3C or System 55, it's likely that they could now build it for you. And if you want something configured and customised for your own needs, that could also be done. A system with six sequencers and no keyboard? Why not? A system with no oscillators but all manner of filters and modulators for mangling external signals? Again, why not? The metalworkers and joiners who built the shells and cabinets, the printers who recreated the switch actuators, and the machinist who recreated the unnecessary fire switch that does nothing but look good... together, they have shown that it can all be done again. So, amazingly, the next few years could prove to be the heyday of Moog Modular synthesizers. If you ordered one in 1968, you couldn't buy a sample & hold module for it because it didn't exist; if you ordered one in 1978, you couldn't buy a 901 oscillator because it had been discontinued. But it's quite possible that a future catalogue could contain all of the modules from Moog's history, including the special modules and custom modifications that were developed along the way.

Of course, this presupposes that the engineers at Moog Music are going to start building vintage modules for general sale again, and that's not a foregone conclusion, not least because their electronics predate modern safety standards and the ROHS (regulations on hazardous substances) legislation of many countries. What effect conforming to modern standards might have on the modules themselves — whether sonically or in terms of physical appearance — only time would tell. So the decision‑makers will have to ask themselves whether new designs would still be considered 'vintage' Moog modules, or whether that even matters. Mind you, were Moog to restart production, who's to say what new modules might appear to complement the vintage ones? But for the moment, the official line remains that the future hasn't yet been decided, and I don't think that's evasion.

So, for the moment, the only synths on offer are the three additional Emerson Moog Modulars slated to be built later in 2014. If you're tempted to buy one of these, I suppose that you might like to know what it's going to cost. But, as Rolls Royce salesmen in the 1960s were heard to say, "if you have to ask, you can't afford it.” A figure of $90,000 has been bandied around. I suspect that, once everything has been totted up by the bean‑counters, the final figure might be higher, although, if you extrapolate the prices from the very rare sales of smaller Moog Modulars over the past decade or so, it may not be too wide of the mark. On the other hand, a synth built in 2014 doesn't have quite the same cachet as a similar one from the '60s. On the other, other hand, anyone who buys one of these will not only own a fabulous musical instrument, but what is likely to be an appreciating asset. As for Roger The Synth himself, he'll be going back to Stopp's living room in LA, where he will become the world's best talking point over afternoon tea and scones, as well as a backup for Emerson's own synth.

Epilogue

In the end, it was a huge rush to finish Roger in time for Moogfest, and I doubt that anyone has yet had time to draw breath and evaluate the response to it. Cynics might dismiss it as a gimmick, or merely a marketing tool: not so much an instrument as a collectable. And you know what? They would be right. But that's irrelevant. Forget Keith's iconic system, forget ELP, forget Switched On Bach, ignore the history, and ignore the fact that Moogs look and feel great. If you walk into a room containing a selection of synthesizers and play each of them, there's something compelling about the sound of an early Moog Modular that sets it apart from everything else. Consequently, I suspect that demand for the handful of clones slated for production will outstrip supply, even at $90,000. For those with the money, somewhere to put it, and the willingness to maintain it, an Emerson Moog Modular will be a dream come true. As one senior, but nevertheless awed, Moog employee sighed as he walked past the one I was playing: "so damn cool”. 

My thanks to Mike Adams, Emmy Parker, Trent Thompson, Brian Kehew, Gene Stopp, Charlie Green, Mari Kawaguchi, and of course, Keith Emerson for their assistance in making this article possible.