Hainbach Digs Into the Sennheiser VSM201’s Secret Schemes

Hainbach kicks off with a wee introduction from Sennheiser’s factory, where the rare, mystical Sennheiser VSM201 vocoder resides. This beast was a darling of legends like Kraftwerk and Jean-Michel Jarre. Released in 1977 and produced in a limited quantity, this vocoder was more of a unicorn than a common workhorse. Not cheap either – which explains why you won’t find it in every Tom, Dick, or Harry’s studio. According to Hainbach, the unit on display was more of a prototype than a complete artifact, as parts were scavenged from it to fix another. This isn’t your standard off-the-shelf gizmo; it’s more like a relic with a story.

Diving into the technicalities, Hainbach eloquently explains the mechanics of the vocoder. It’s all about merging signals – where one sound’s character actually talks through the frequencies of another. This 16-band wonder modulates the size of your sound, carving it into something beautifully bizarre. Typically, such gear is tampered with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, but here, Hainbach brings his experimental signature by simply marvelling at the vocoder’s ability to produce intelligible sounds even with odd words. The vocoder itself may appear like a radar from the Cold War era, and the technicians struggle to shield its persistent hum, claiming that its unhoused state is the culprit. But as Hainbach assures, the rawness is part of its charm.

In a twist laden with espionage undertones, the history of the vocoder veers into the realm of encrypted military communication. The VSM201 is more than just an instrument; it’s a descendant of technologies used during shadowy wartime strategies. Hushed whispers of encrypted communications technology used for secure phone lines dot this tale. Hainbach takes us back to a time when tills of technological advancements paved the way for newfangled vocoders. The spectre of classified documents hovers over this piece of kit like a cryptic guardian, and even today, the full picture remains pixelated under layers of secrecy.

Never one to shy away from a deep dive, Hainbach dissects the VSM201 with the enthusiasm of a child handed the keys to a candy store. He details the functions of this thrumming machine, from its mic input troubles to its internal signal routes. The vocoder, festooned with a manual’s worth of knobs and settings, lets you mix and modulate till the cows come home. Such elaborate playthings include an internal modulator, a means to control unvoiced partials, and even a missing pink filter that drives Hainbach to inventive routing solutions. The absence of certain components only adds to the allure – it’s like being handed blueprints without a teardown manual. It’s no wonder he wrestles with the continuous hum, a sound that only adds a layer of authenticity to this legendary device.