In this month’s article, The Chap takes us on an epic quest to Synth East in Norwich, where he unearths lots of wonderful (expensive) treasures – and attempts not to bring any of it home with him. If you love synths, then this is the event for you…
You’ve had a hearty lunch and an espresso. In your knapsack, you have nothing but your phone, massive headphones and a headphone jack. And so, with a confident stride, you step into the medieval caverns of Norwich Arts Centre. Welcome to Synth East!
You are a song lover, sonic adventurer and sometime musician. In 2024, you attended Synth East and discovered a hidden world of middle-aged men and their synthesisers, from the bizarre to the beautiful.
Today is February 22nd 2025 and your mission is to once again explore this hallowed church and the clandestine sect of synthesiser nerds who have gathered to celebrate their love of everything synth: from row upon row of synths to try, to live patch battles and assorted paraphernalia.
The event includes major keyboard brands, boutique Eurorack modular manufacturers and software developers, and attendees have the opportunity to try (and purchase) just about everything on display.
Key to your mission is to fight the urge to purchase a synthesiser and risk invoking the wrath of your wife to whom you have sworn an oath of fealty (read: not blowing £499 on a polyphonic synth that you will never play… mainly because you can’t). This may be a challenge because there are so many amazing machines to see at Synth East and temptation assails you from the moment you enter.
Legendary synth manufacturer Korg is set up in the hallway, with a dozen synths of various shapes and sizes. You approach a Minilogue XD and place the headphones on your head. You play a note, you don’t know which. Your head is filled with exquisite noise. An electronic arpeggio that sounds like a cross between 2 Unlimited and Jon Hopkins pulses into your ears. Add 1 strength point. You stare at the knobs and dials and wonder what does what. From your limited training, you recognise the key controls: attack, decay, sustain and release. But you’re looking for the treasure. The filter and the resonance. There!
You begin to tweak the cut-off in time to the music and the ravey noise twists and turns with acid intensity and you wonder if Josh Wink felt like this when he created Higher State of Consciousness. You pinch two faders, which appear to control some other aspect of the sound. You don’t know what it is but it sounds awesome – shaping the sound so its techno bite grabs you on the off beat.
You find a sweet spot, leave the faders and glance at the other controllers. You see that there are other LFOs to introduce and manipulate. You choose to do so and fade up a harmonic sawtooth, which feels like your proto track might take off into space. You return to the filter and pump it in time to the music. It whirrs and blisters and burns and you imagine a thousand heads bobbing to your acid trance anthem in some Berlin basement in 1992.
Suddenly, an attack!
Your friend taps you on the shoulder and you are awakened from your reverie. “I’m just going into the main room,” he says, and you wish him well.
You look at your watch. You’ve been here seven minutes.
You glance around the hallway and spy some Korg modular synths. You see the Korg Bassline that defeated you last time. Determined to master this 303 emulator, you see a wise wizard and determine to ask his advice. The wizard – Nigel – is dressed strangely, in a black Korg polo shirt. You tell him of your quest and explain that while you know the basics of sound manipulation, you don’t understand how to sequence a loop. The kindly wizard explains and you spend many minutes programming a cool acid line into the machine. Add 1 luck point.
Once again brought back to the real world, you finally head into the main hall.
At the threshold, you are greeted by the thrum of one hundred men (and three women) discussing their machines – backed by a cacophony of whirring, bleeping, scraping and chiming. Here in the heart of Synth East are the more niche synths, the modular and rack synths – those with no keyboard. Here, it feels less about cool electronic dance music and more about science – the arcane and mysterious alchemy of sound design. Where new interfaces meet ancient wisdom, just as older middle-aged men meet slightly younger middle-aged men. And a few females punctuate the otherwise homogenous crowd.
A crackle over the PA inauspiciously announces the coming of a live performance – a patch-off. You look to the stage and see a woman in leopard-print trousers and a leather jacket approach a table crammed with machines and wires. From the other end of the stage, a man approaches. But this is no mere mortal, this is legendary snooker player Steve Davis – who has more recently his talented hands to synthesisers. The pair spend ten minutes twiddling nobs and treating the assembled crowd to an electronic ambient jam – replete with theramin.
And so the day goes on. You engage strange creatures in discussions about sinewaves and polyphony and a traveller from distant lands (Nottingham) who represents his lord and master (Yamaha). He gives you a demo of the SEQTrak, which leaves you somewhat baffled. Deduct 1 strength point.
Soon, Organiser Robin Vincent and Pauli take to the stage for another patch-off. This one has more of a driving beat than the previous performance and waves of lush pads. Pauli plays arpeggios and tweaks them into the stratosphere. It’s not entirely clear what Robin’s doing. You have yet to learn the code.
All synths are available for trying and their owners/creators are on hand to show you the interface and mechanics – many have odd and counterintuitive layouts – though it must be said that you are somewhat of a novice. You smile politely, ask questions and smile politely at the answers – many of which make no sense to you. It is a strange language indeed.
In the back room are some very strange machines – including a synth that looks like a massive 1970s calculator.
Before you know it, the sun is waning and the sect is packing up its wares. You have succeeded!
You have indulged in several hours of synth nerdery, played inside the mouths of beasts and managed to avoid the sweet siren song of the synths. You even managed to fight the temptation of buying a KingKORG Neo, with its retro ‘80s white shell and analogue controllers. Together, you made such sweet noises, such as might see the gods take to their feet and dance (assuming they liked Jon Talabot or Sven Vath).
As you leave, you discuss the many wonders you have experienced on your adventure with your friend: from the Novation Peak to the Oberheim TEO-5 and the PWM Mantis. You and your fellow quester leave SythEast 2025 sated and happy – knowing that next year might be the year that you return home with some treasure.
