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
