MaxiMoog: A tribute to the man who gave us so many good vibrations

by Jimmy Guterman
August 22, 2005

This was supposed to be a different piece. I was going to travel to North Carolina and spend some time with Bob Moog, sharing with you his inventions and methods. While making preparations, I learned that Bob was being treated for an inoperable brain tumor. He died on August 21st.

But that shouldn't stop me from writing this article, which was intended as a celebration. I was going to interview Bob because he is a giant in both technology and music, the two softest spots in the hearts of so many MAKE readers. That hasn't changed.

If you knew Moog, chances are you associated him with the synthesizers that bear his name (which, by the way, rhymes with "vogue"). He started experimenting with his landmark electronic-music instrument while at a Columbia-Princeton joint program. By 1963, he had developed a machine that could be played in real time, and by the late 60s, he'd developed enough of a following among musicians that his synthesizer was being featured on hit albums by everyone from the Monkees to Wendy Carlos. Those early analog synthesizers were modular, controlled by an almost infinite variation of patch-cord combinations, but the devices went mainstream in 1971 with the introduction of the Minimoog. The device was small (44 keys) and limited (monophonic) by today's recording-studio-in-your-PDA standards, but the leap in ease and functionality made new sounds and possibilities available to non-gearheads. That's when art rockers became Moog's most reliable and popularizing clients, folks like Rick Wakeman of Yes and Keith Emerson of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. It's a period well documented in the delightful, recent short film, Moog.

Moog's synthesizers led to an explosion of the imagination and were stuffed with DIY add-on opportunities. Unfortunately, much of the most popular music produced with synthesizers was more interesting technically than musically. As someone who has written books about Jerry Lee Lewis, the Sex Pistols, and Bruce Springsteen, I'm not the sort of guy who adores the flatulent art rock that made the Moog synthesizer famous. But blaming Bob Moog for the not-so-great music made on his great invention is like blaming Jimi Hendrix for Yngwie Malmsteen. You can't control who will be influenced by your genius work. And, to be fair, Beck and others have made stellar records with Moog synthesizers at the center.

A Moog doll designed by Archer Prewitt, author of Sof'Boy. Photo courtesy of Press Pop Gallery.

Moog was more than The Synth Guy. In recent years, he circled back to his first love, the theremin, the only instrument that makes music out of thin air. I've been a semi-competent theremin player for several years now, so it's been a treat to see the most famous maker of theremins this side of Leon Theremin return to his inventing roots. The theremin's most famous contribution to pop music is in the Beach Boys' Good Vibrations. You can also see Jimmy Page waving his arms around one in The Song Remains the Same. Moog built theremins for fun going back during the Truman administration, and his description of how to build one in Electronic World led to a brief career making and selling theremin kits. He returned to manufacturing and selling kits and fully made theremins in the 90s; even the fully constructed models come with notes on how to "hotrod" your theremin, soldering iron in hand, showing that Moog's DIY ethic was still with him. As he met his final challenge, I suspect it served him well.

• For more on Moog Music: moogmusic.com
• For more on Moog, the film: zu33.com/moog
• For more on Bob Moog, visit en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Moog