Moog and Modulations: Cinema for the Ear - Meditations on Techno

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on September 6, 2005.

Robert Moog died a couple of weeks ago. To many of you, that statement doesn't mean much. To those who love, follow, and study techno and electronic music, however, the aforementioned news undoubtedly generated a bit of shock and sadness. Moog (rhymes with "rogue") was the inventor of the synthesizer, not the first electronic instrument ever made but probably the most important, affecting all of us, whether we consider ourselves fans of techno or not.

I definitely come at this subject from an external perspective. While I usually like techno when I hear it, I am no aficionado; as such, I recently rented two short documentaries, which I hoped would serve as an introduction: Hans Fjellestad's Moog (2004) and Iara Lee's Modulations: Cinema for the Ear (1998). As documentaries, both proved disappointing; however, they did allow me to reflect on electronic music more than I normally would, and they also provoked me to question whether I really liked techno as much as I thought.

If any one person could embody interdisciplinary and collaborative work, it would have to be Robert Moog. Trained as an engineer, Moog not only changed the face of music with his invention, but he also interacted a lot with actual musicians. By all accounts, he defied stereotypes of the conservative, nerdy, 1960s engineer, building big machines for Uncle Sam and Corporate America; instead, he was a mildly eccentric fellow with a deep appreciation for the musical arts and a great respect for musicians. Though he wasn't "artsy" (he never considered himself a musician), he spent a lot of time listening to what musicians wanted. With what kinds of sounds did they want to experiment? How did they actually use the synthesizer in performance? Some of the most interesting points in the documentary are found in Moog's conversations with techno musicians — some of whom are raucous, others more thoughtful. (You have to admire an engineer who, as an elderly man, would attend a Nine Inch Nails concert to see how his invention was being used.)

What I found most interesting to learn was the great variety of techno/electronic music available today. I was surprised to discover that I disliked a lot of it, but that merely demonstrated the maturity of the genre: There exist so many variations of "techno" that the category itself is too limiting and perhaps artificial (much like "classical").

Fjellestad's documentary also provides good footage of how techno is actually performed in public. It's an odd experience. Unlike a symphony orchestra seated in a semi-circle or a rock band with singers and guitarists moving around a stage, techno musicians largely stand at stationary locations and spend their time tapping on computer keyboards and fiddling with lots of knobs. (One of the drawbacks of the early Moog synthesizers was the fact that it was full of knobs — and thus, extremely ugly.) Watching a techno band perform is like watching power plant employees without the lab coats. Not a captivating sight.

The major drawback to Moog is its "insider" feel (Fjellestad is himself a techno musician). It seems made for those who already know a fair amount about techno and who just want to watch Moog interact with others "in the business." My wife said that this documentary didn't feel particularly holistic, and I would have to agree: Fjellestad didn't incorporate enough historical context and discussion of how radically the synthesizer altered our definitions of "music" and "performance." As such, Fjellestad's project, while nominally interesting, ultimately falls flat.

Unfortunately, Iara Lee's Modulations doesn't fare much better. While it does provide more background—describing the early pioneers of Twentieth Century avant-garde music (namely, John Cage); the first bona fide techno group, Kraftwerk; and the 1970s Detroit club scene that helped to launch electronica into the mainstream—it nevertheless suffers from too much self-congratulation and a pace that is meant to appeal to our attention-deficit culture.

Lee interviews lots of techno musicians, producers, and DJs, and it's clear that the documentary wants viewers to remember how new and revolutionary this music is. However, while techno is recent and important, it is just one genre among many, and as I discovered while watching Moog, the maturation of any genre means that some of its representative works will be bad. In other words, techno is special, but it's not that special, and fans would do well to conduct an occasional reality check.

As mentioned, the pace of Modulations is relatively fast. On the one hand, this makes sense, given the subject matter (techno is famous, after all, for pushing the boundaries of "beats per minute"); on the other hand, such pacing and editing indulges our culture's disinterest in pause, concentration, and reflection. (Perhaps I'm just getting old and cranky, but I'm mystified at the multitasking proclivities of the Echo Boomers / Generation Y's / Millennials — choose your favorite media-driven cliché.) Modulations both mimics and encourages this trend a bit much, and upon finishing the movie, I had an intense desire to do something decidedly pre-techno and "unitask," like read a book.

Perhaps in line with its fast pace is Modulations' very interesting and frank discussion of hedonism and mindlessness. The image of techno is inextricably connected with rave culture, and the musicians and DJs in the documentary note that one primary function of the music is catharsis, a release not only from daily responsibility but even consciousness. It is important to note, however, that while one can make an empirical connection between techno and hedonism, it is far from a necessary one. In other words, it is possible to enjoy techno without overly indulging one's senses.

While disappointing, both Moog and Modulations still serve as relatively helpful introductions to the world of techno and electronic music. They also reminded one of the value of aesthetic choice. If one lived in a world in which techno was the only musical genre available, then his/her mind (and "tastes") would grow dull; however, the ability to experience classical, jazz, techno—and everything in between—allows one to keep the senses sharp. If nothing else, techno is valuable because it keeps music interesting. Now, if they would just get rid of those ugly knobs....