Let’s hear it for the Moog!

I happened to come across an article that Google was doing a special doodle for May 23^rd, 2012, in honor of Robert Moog’s birthday. I wanted to take a brief break from my regularly scheduled posting to pay tribute to him.

We actually had a synthesizer back when I was pretty young, but I’m sure it was not a Moog. (We always had a lot of musical instruments around for people who don’t really play much.) My first real connection to him happened a few years later, when I read a blurb about him finally getting his degree, because initially his thesis was rejected because the committee did not understand it, and then years later they caught up.

I cannot find any documentation of this now, but I remember it having a big impact on me than, and I even wrote a poem inspired by it that appeared in Day by Day, my high school’s literary magazine, my sophomore year.

The poem was not horrible for a sophomore. It was a little pretentious, but I submitted several pieces and it was only the two pretentious ones that got in (that was really all the editor could relate to; I remember quite clearly). Anyway, it was well-received, and at least one person “joked” that he was sure it was inspired by him. Since he was not Robert Moog, he was wrong.

To create (for the first time) a digital record of the poem, I will include it at the end of the post, but first let us pause to remember Dr. Moog (rhymes with “vogue”): theremin expert, author, engineer, and inventor. He was a pioneer of electronic music, a research professor, and without him there would surely be no such thing as a line of effects pedals named “Moogerfooger”. He was a real genius.

Real Genius, by Gina Harris

I look back
Through the myriad of time
(Or whatever they call it)
At the men who had
Genius
Galileo, Leonardo, Van Gogh
Sure, we say genius now
But when they were alive the word was lunatic
Heretic, maybe, or just idealistic fool
If a genius is ahead of his time, by definition
Does that mean he can’t be accepted in his time?
And has to wait until he dies and time progresses?
I guess so.
And I wonder, vaguely,
Am I a genius?
But it doesn’t really matter
Because even if I am,
Until it’s far too late,
No one will ever know.