Creating Emotion with Reverb & Delay: The Heart of Ambient Music
If there's one thing I've learned in making ambient music as Six Missing, it's that sound alone isn't enough—emotion lives in the space around the sound. That’s where reverb and delay come in. These two effects are the heart of how I shape emotional texture and movement. They’re not just tools; they’re mood shifters, sculptors of space, and conveyors of feeling.
Ambient music, by nature, doesn’t rely on melody or rhythm in the traditional sense. It relies on atmosphere, tone, and depth—and reverb and delay are essential for building that immersive world.
Why Reverb Matters
Reverb simulates space. It tells your brain how big a room is, how far away a sound might be, or whether you're hearing something in a cathedral, a cave, or under the surface of water. But in ambient music, reverb isn't just about creating a sense of space—it's about dissolving boundaries.
I often use long, lush reverb tails that stretch notes into eternity, letting them drift and blur into one another. This creates a kind of sonic fog that softens edges and makes everything feel connected. It’s a way of letting a sound linger emotionally, like the echo of a thought or a feeling you can’t quite shake.
The Emotional Weight of Delay
Where reverb creates space, delay creates memory. A delayed sound is a reflection, a moment that repeats and transforms over time. In ambient music, I love using delay not just for rhythmic echo, but for the emotional weight it carries—a voice or guitar note bouncing back like a memory you keep returning to.
Delays can be short and subtle, like the feeling of déjà vu, or long and unpredictable, like the passage of time. I often use tape-style delays or analog units that introduce gentle imperfections—flutter, warble, degradation—that make the echoes feel more human.
How I Use Reverb & Delay in Six Missing
One of the ways I build emotional space in my music is by stacking multiple reverbs. I might use a shorter room reverb to emulate a physical space or proximity—something that brings a bit of presence and intimacy—and then layer it with a long, washed-out tail that lets everything dissolve into the atmosphere. This contrast helps create depth, giving the sound both weight and lift, grounding it while allowing it to drift.
In my studio, I’ve built a signal chain that includes vintage delay pedals, reverb units, and modular effects chains that allow me to sculpt space in real time. Some go-to tools include:
Boss DD-20 in looping mode for cascading echoes.
Meris Mercury7 for reverb that sounds like it’s from another galaxy.
EarthQuaker Devices Avalanche Run for dreamy stereo ambiance.
Analog tape machines to create natural tape delay and saturation.
When I'm creating, I rarely hear a dry sound and say “that’s it.” It's usually once the sound is bathed in reverb or bouncing through delay lines that it starts to feel like Six Missing.
Why It Matters
In a world that’s loud, fast, and sharp-edged, ambient music offers a place to slow down and soften. Reverb and delay create that softening effect. They let sounds blur into one another, letting listeners rest in the spaces between.
Whether I’m designing a track for meditation, nighttime reflection, or a deep emotional dive, these tools allow me to shape an experience that’s not just heard—but felt.
If you’re curious about how these textures play out in real time, check out my playlist Meditative Moments, where reverb and delay are woven into every track to help you slow down, breathe, and just be:
How Field Recordings Bring Ambient Music to Life
One of the most fascinating aspects of ambient music is its ability to transport listeners—to create a sense of place, mood, and emotion without the need for traditional song structures. One of the ways I love to achieve this in Six Missing is through field recordings—capturing and integrating real-world sounds into my compositions.
Field recordings have the power to ground music in something tangible, making it feel more alive, more connected to the world around us. A subtle breeze, the distant hum of a city, or the soft rhythm of waves can add a level of depth and atmosphere that synthesizers alone can’t always achieve.
What Are Field Recordings?
Field recordings are sounds captured from the real world, whether from nature, urban environments, or even unexpected mechanical sources. They can be used to:
Enhance texture – Adding organic layers that blend with electronic elements.
Evoke emotion – Creating a sense of nostalgia, serenity, or mystery.
Define space – Making music feel like it's unfolding in a specific location.
Introduce unpredictability – No two natural sounds are exactly the same, making each recording unique.
The Emotional Impact of Real-World Sounds
Music is deeply tied to memory and sensory experiences. A simple field recording—like birdsong, distant thunder, or the echo of footsteps—can instantly transport listeners to another time or place.
Think about how certain sounds make you feel:
Rain on a window – Often associated with warmth, introspection, or solitude.
Distant traffic at night – Evokes a sense of movement, longing, or the quiet energy of a city.
Wind moving through trees – A feeling of openness, calm, and deep connection to nature.
These aren’t just sound effects—they’re emotional triggers that help shape the experience of the music.
How I Use Field Recordings in My Music
For Six Missing, field recordings are a key part of my sound. I like to incorporate:
Subtle textures beneath synth drones – A faint, almost imperceptible environmental noise can make a piece feel more immersive.
Natural reverbs and echoes – Capturing how sound interacts with different spaces can add an organic depth that studio reverb can’t replicate.
Looping fragments of real-world sound – Sometimes, a repeating rhythm of a distant train or dripping water can act as a percussive or meditative element.
I’ve always been drawn to the interplay between synthetic and organic sounds—how a processed, filtered synth pad can feel like it belongs in the same world as the rustling of leaves. It’s this blending of human-made and natural sound that makes ambient music feel truly alive.
Field Recording in Ambient Music History
Many ambient artists have embraced field recordings to create immersive worlds in their music:
Brian Eno incorporated environmental sounds in his early ambient works, making the listening space itself part of the experience.
Hiroshi Yoshimura used recordings of water and nature to enhance the meditative quality of his minimalist compositions.
Chris Watson, known for his work in sound ecology, brought high-fidelity nature recordings into the world of ambient and experimental music.
How to Start Using Field Recordings in Your Own Music
For artists and producers who want to explore field recordings, here are a few tips:
Use your phone or a portable recorder – You don’t need expensive equipment to start; even a simple phone mic can capture compelling sounds.
Be intentional with sound selection – Find recordings that evoke a mood rather than adding noise for the sake of it.
Layer recordings subtly – Blending them under synths, pads, or reverb can create a feeling rather than being the focal point.
Experiment with processing – Stretching, reversing, or filtering recordings can transform everyday sounds into something surreal.
Experience Field Recordings in Ambient Music
If you want to explore how field recordings create depth and space in ambient music, check out my Meditative Wind Down playlist:
🎧 Follow & Save Meditative Moments
This playlist features carefully curated tracks that highlight the beauty of field recordings in ambient music, blending organic textures with deep, immersive soundscapes.
Field recordings remind us that music isn’t separate from the world—it’s part of it. Every sound, every breath, every subtle movement of the air is music waiting to be heard.
Until next time,
Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing
The Moog Minimoog: My First Vintage Synth & A Spiritual Connection to Sound
There are certain instruments that feel more like guides than tools—ones that don’t just produce sound but seem to speak a language of their own. For me, that instrument is the Moog Minimoog Model D.
This wasn’t just my first real-deal synthesizer—it was my first vintage synth, the one that truly unlocked my love for analog sound design and changed how I approached music forever. It was also the first time I ever made a big investment in an instrument, and I’ll admit, I hesitated. The price tag made me nervous, but Hanna encouraged me to go for it. She knew—before I even did—how much I would connect with it, how much it would shape the sound of Six Missing.
She was right. The Minimoog has since become a staple of my work, making its way into nearly every Six Missing track.
A Synth That Feels Alive
There’s something undeniably human about the Minimoog. From the moment I first played it, I realized that this wasn’t just an instrument—it was a living, breathing sound machine. Its oscillators have a warmth and richness that feel organic, as if the sound is growing and evolving in real-time.
The Minimoog is known for its thick, unmistakable bass tones, but what drew me in was its ability to drift between the earthly and the otherworldly. It can sound as grounded as a cello or as vast as the cosmos. The way its filter moves, how it subtly reacts to the slightest changes in touch, makes it feel alive.
That’s what I love most about vintage synths—the unpredictability, the imperfections, the way they breathe. No two performances on the Minimoog ever sound exactly the same, which makes it feel like a true collaborator in my creative process.
A Spiritual Connection Through Bob Moog
After I bought the Minimoog, I became fascinated with Bob Moog himself. I watched a documentary about his life, and something about the way he spoke about sound resonated deeply with me. He didn’t just see synthesizers as machines—he saw them as something spiritual, something alive.
Moog believed that synthesizers weren’t just tools for making music but instruments that connected us to something greater than ourselves. He spoke about sound in a way that felt almost sacred, as if music wasn’t just something we create, but something we uncover—something that already exists in the ether, waiting to be heard.
That idea is central to Six Missing. My music has always been about creating a space—about capturing something just beyond reach. The Minimoog, with its almost mystical ability to bridge the electronic and the organic, fits perfectly within that philosophy.
The Sound of Six Missing
Since that first moment with the Minimoog, it has shaped my sound in ways I never expected. It has been the foundation of so many Six Missing tracks, whether subtly tucked into the atmosphere or leading the way with deep, resonant tones.
The way it interacts with effects—reverbs stretching it into infinite space, delays warping it into something ethereal—makes it an essential tool in crafting the textures I’m drawn to. It’s not just about the notes it plays; it’s about the space between the notes, the movement, the way the sound lingers and evolves.
The Synth That Almost Wasn’t
Looking back, I’m grateful Hanna gave me that final push to go for it. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the things we hesitate on are the very things that will shape us the most.
The Minimoog wasn’t just my first vintage synth—it was the beginning of a deeper relationship with sound itself. And I know that relationship will continue to unfold with every track I create.
Until next time,
Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing
The Gear That Shaped My Sound (Part 1)
The Gear That Shaped My Sound
Every artist has a toolkit—an array of instruments, effects, and processes that define their creative language. For me, that toolkit is built on texture, space, and the unpredictability of sound. Six Missing wouldn’t exist without the instruments that have shaped my sonic world, from vintage synths to looping techniques that stretch time itself.
The Role of Vintage Synths
For better or worse, I have a lot of gear—and I happen to love it all. To prevent this blog from running too long, this will likely turn into a multi-part series or a recurring feature to cover all my gear babies. Synthesizers have been at the heart of my exploration into ambient music. Early in my journey, I discovered that not all synths are created equal—there’s something undeniably human about vintage analog gear. Their slight imperfections, the unpredictability of their oscillators, and the warmth of their tone make them feel alive.
Some of the most influential synths in my setup include:
Moog Matriarch – A semi-modular powerhouse that allows for deep, organic sound design. The way its filter interacts with evolving patches has been central to my compositions.
Moog Minimoog Model D – One of the most legendary synthesizers of all time, its unmistakable tone brings warmth and character to any track.
Korg PS-3100 – A polyphonic monster with rich modulation possibilities, perfect for creating vast, evolving soundscapes.
These synths have become more than just tools—they're collaborators in my creative process, each adding its own voice to the sonic conversation.
Delay & The Art of Sound-On-Sound
Before I ever touched a synthesizer, I was obsessed with delay pedals. There’s something hypnotic about hearing a note repeat, degrade, and take on a life of its own. This obsession led me to experiment with sound-on-sound looping, a technique where repeated layers of sound evolve organically over time.
Some of my go-to delay and looping tools include:
Boss DD-20 Giga Delay – My introduction to long-form looping, allowing me to create lush, evolving textures with extended delay times.
Strymon El Capistan – A tape-style delay that captures the character of vintage tape echoes, adding warmth and unpredictability.
EarthQuaker Devices Avalanche Run – A pedal that blends delay and reverb into one ethereal wash of sound, perfect for ambient compositions.
By layering loops with subtle modulations, I create evolving atmospheres that feel immersive and organic, allowing each piece to develop naturally over time.
The Studio Workflow
Though I started with Pro Tools, I transitioned to Ableton Live in 2018 and never looked back. Its non-linear workflow makes it perfect for experimenting with loops, textures, and unpredictable signal chains. Whether I’m routing synths through a chain of analog delays or resampling a field recording into granular synthesis, my approach to recording is fluid and exploratory.
At the heart of my studio is an ethos: let the sound guide the process. Whether it’s a synth patch that unfolds in an unexpected way or a delay trail that becomes the foundation of a new piece, I embrace happy accidents. It’s in those moments of unpredictability that the real magic happens.
Why Gear Matters and Doesn't
At the end of the day, gear is just a means to an end—but the right tools can unlock something deeper. That said, I could accomplish this with far less gear, and I fully acknowledge that. If you're just starting out, don’t feel pressured to amass a collection—some of my favorite pieces of music started with just a single instrument and a simple effect. The process takes time, and the journey should be fun. Experiment, learn what works for you, and remember that creativity isn’t about how much gear you have—it’s about how you use it. Each synth, pedal, and effect in my setup has shaped Six Missing in its own way, providing the textures and colors that define my sound. While I’ll always experiment with new tools, it’s the ones that inspire me to listen differently that truly matter.
Until next time, Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing