Synth History Recommends
Being Featured in Synth History Vol. 5 -- Finding My Place
You can read the full Recommends feature here:
https://www.synthhistory.com/post/six-missing-recommends
I wanted to share something that genuinely stopped me in my tracks.
I’m featured in Synth History Vol. 5 — the physical zine — and also on their website as part of their Recommends Series.
That still feels surreal to type.
I first discovered Synth History on a plane, flipping through Volume 2, and immediately felt something click. The care in the layout. The tactile feel of the paper. The depth of the writing. It wasn’t just about synths — it was about why we’re drawn to these machines in the first place.
It felt like finding my place.
Fast forward a few volumes later, and now I’m somehow in actual ink, alongside artists I deeply admire. That kind of full-circle moment doesn’t happen often — and when it does, you really feel it in your chest.
Synth History as a Living Document
What Dan and the Synth History team have built is special. This isn’t gear fetishism or trend chasing — it’s documentation. Culture. Memory.
In a time when so much of music exists fleetingly on screens, there’s something grounding about a printed object that asks you to slow down, sit with it, and turn pages. That philosophy mirrors how I like to work musically — hands on, ears open, patience intact.
Holding Vol. 5 feels like holding a small piece of collective history.
The Recommends Series
For the Recommends Series, I was asked to list 10–15 studio essentials — instruments and tools that have shaped how I hear, feel, and create.
What I appreciated most about the prompt was that it wasn’t about productivity or optimization. It was about relationship.
Two pieces I spoke about in depth were my Korg PS-3100 and the EarthQuaker Devices Avalanche Run — both of which feel less like gear and more like collaborators.
The PS-3100 is big, heavy, temperamental, and already feels like it has a will of its own. It’s been in the shop more than once — and I’ll still never give it up. There’s something mystifying about it that I was actively searching for. The interface invites you to touch it, to play, to mess things up and see where they land. Watching Ólafur Arnalds speak about the PS-3100 years ago made me realize he was talking about synths the same way I do — almost poetically. That moment sent me on a long hunt until I finally found one, had it put on a plane, and picked it up at the airport like a precious artifact.
And then there’s the Avalanche Run.
I don’t say this lightly — that pedal changed the entire course of my musical life. I bought it at Main Drag Music in Williamsburg, and the person ringing me up smiled and said, “Hope you enjoy losing time for three days.” They weren’t wrong.
My first Six Missing release was born entirely out of improvising with that pedal — one long session of me playing with it and it playing back at me. It’s a universe. A texture engine. A collaborator that chews sound into something elastic and strange and beautiful. If I ever had to choose just one pedal to perform with, it would be the Avalanche Run. No question.
Gratitude
Huge thanks to Synth History for including me — both in Vol. 5 of the physical zine and online. It means more than I can properly articulate.
And thank you to everyone who listens, supports, reads, and makes space for this kind of slow, intentional work. None of it exists in isolation.
If you’re into synthesizers, ambient music, or thoughtful creative culture, I can’t recommend Synth History enough. And if you can get your hands on a physical copy — do it. Some things really are better when you can hold them.
You can read the full Recommends feature here:
https://www.synthhistory.com/post/six-missing-recommends
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