Emerald Web - Sweet Prey in the Emerald Web

Out of the twilight fusion of synths and transverse flutes, Emerald Web was born in 1978, a duo formed by Americans Kat Epple and Bob Stohl (a musical couple as well as a couple in life), who released 12 albums between 1979 and '90, suspended in a limbo of bittersweet instrumental beauty. Space music, ambient and new age are the coordinates of a journey through the folds of dreaming, brutally interrupted by Stohl's death at just 35 years old. Champions of that analog language now consigned to history, Emerald Web put out works in which compositional solidity embraces an improvisation that flows like a mountain stream, becoming a cult phenomenon that nonetheless earned real artistic and commercial rewards, most notably a Grammy nomination in 1986 for "Catspaw".

A worthy heir to that distinguished tradition, Epple went on in the following decades to build a career studded with international collaborations and commissions, free of any nostalgic posturing and instead driven by an unstoppable appetite for the near future — a talented composer of solo works such as the highly recommended “Elemental Circuitry” (2015), an electroacoustic take on fourth-world music made together with Nathan Dyke.

Kat, what are you working on these days?

I'm working on “Aqua Regia” by Emerald Web, together with Barry Cleveland; the album will be reissued on vinyl by the label re:discovery. It's a record from '82 that will finally be available, for the first time, on download and streaming.

And on the solo front?

I'm recording an album in collaboration with a Canadian friend of mine, the legendary heavy metal guitarist Devin Townsend. I'm also busy writing my memoirs and a comedy screenplay based on personal experiences from when we drove around the United States in a van as a “traveling electronic music band,” back in the 70s. I recently finished the soundtrack for a documentary about Hurricane Ian, which struck our east coast in 2022. Then there's all the work related to Emerald Web, meaning archiving and digitizing photos, artwork and above all the analog tape masters — a huge amount of material that needs to be preserved. Finally, I'm looking for the right publisher to properly manage the copyrights of our catalog.

In what way is your music North American?

I incorporate many different geographic elements into my music; as a child I lived in the Appalachian region, where bluegrass, gospel, country and folk are traditionally played on back roads and tucked away in the hollows of the mountains. I was fascinated to see that those musicians had no formal musical training whatsoever; it was thrilling to watch them improvise for hours and hours, purely for the joy of it. I'd say my main influences are bluegrass, jazz and Native American music. These days I'm interested in the traditions of other cultures around the world; I've traveled far and wide collecting indigenous instruments, which I often work into my albums and into the soundtracks I'm commissioned to write.

In what way, specifically, is your space music North American?

That has far fewer geographic elements and is more rooted in science fiction. Maybe my approach to electronics is more cosmic than earthbound.

Can music be influenced by the place where it's composed?

Absolutely. One example: Emerald Web's second album, “Whispered Visions”, from 1980, was recorded on a 4-track in our home studio, a small wooden house overlooking a little lake in northern Connecticut. Mirroring the surrounding environment, the compositions took on a quality that was ethereal, brooding and serene all at once. We recorded late at night, once the summer heat had died down and the sounds of nature whispered through the window panes.

Am I wrong, or does a very young Jonn Serrie play guitar and synth on “Whispered Visions”?

We met Jonn in the late Seventies, also in Connecticut, where Bob and I lived and where most of our performances took place. He was a guitarist, singer and songwriter; shortly after meeting him we became friends and formed a trio that played around the area but also made it to a few venues in New York. He, Bob and I made a great combination!

Musically speaking, what did you admire most about Bob?

Artistically, nothing scared him. Then there was his extraordinary skill on the Lyricon, through which he recorded powerful, evocative melodies, drawing on the timbral possibilities of such a little-known instrument. For anyone who doesn't know it, the Lyricon Electronic Wind Instrument is an early synthesizer/wind instrument hybrid that uses additive synthesis and a bass clarinet mouthpiece. It was inspiring to have a partner who was caring but also objective in commenting on my music, since I knew I could make mistakes without feeling judged. He had a compositional style very different from mine, so it was exciting to combine our two different approaches and create an unexpected fusion of ideas.

Starting with "Sound Trek" your albums became entirely instrumental; yet on your debut "Dragon Wings And Wizard Tales" you had achieved flattering results using vocals.

In the early '80s there was still a mistaken stereotype floating around that girls weren't cut out for handling synthesizers. Reviewers of our albums would often credit Bob with running the synths and me with flute and vocals. But I wanted to be known as an electronic musician too, so I figured that if Emerald released an album with no vocals, the critics' perspective might change. It worked, and eventually I did become known for electronics too; later on I realized I should have just kept singing and not worried about what other people thought. I still sing on some of my more recent albums and in concert. I'd love to compare notes with Laurie Anderson about her experience as a woman dealing with synths and the music industry: I'm sure she ran into situations similar to mine. Luckily, nowadays a woman can be whatever she wants: composer, producer, electronic musician.

With "Valley Of The Birds" you found your own language: how was the work divided up in the studio?

Everything happened spontaneously, there was no competition between me and Bob, since we were both mainly interested in exploring. We used a Teac quarter-inch 4-track recorder; back then it was hard to sync sequencers on top of a previous track, so we'd record all the rhythm and sequencer parts onto the first stereo track. The other two tracks held melody, structures and chords. Often the second track was recorded in stereo, so that flutes and Lyricon ended up on two separate tracks; that means "Valley..." only has two stereo tracks in total. And since we played several instruments on each piece, we had to switch from one instrument to another live. When we made a mistake, we had to stop the tape, hit rewind and record the new take while the previous one got automatically erased.

Recording engineering was still in its infancy.

Recording engineering was one of the most important skills I ever learned. Even today I love picking up new tech skills through the music I record. I gained an ability that, over time, proved essential to my work as a composer and producer.

What was the gear on that little masterpiece?

We used an Arp 2600, a MiniMoog, an Oberheim DS-2 sequencer, a Roland RS-202 String Ensemble synth and an Electronic Music Labs SynKey.

You also collaborated with Steven Halpern on his album "Dawn".

Steven is a new age pioneer, as well as a great pianist. Bob and I loved playing with him. You know, he didn't give us any direction in the studio: it was a democratic collaboration where we played live while the engineer recorded. We're still friends, and just recently we talked about making new music together.

"Catspaw" seems to head down the road of commercialization.

Our change wasn't driven by commercial factors, but by the fact that at the time we were living in the San Francisco Bay Area, an absolutely thrilling place that had become the epicenter of space music and new age, but also of new wave; we were influenced by the new technologies of the period and by rock and new wave bands such as King Crimson, Roxy Music, Devo, Talking Heads, Blondie, and the electronics of Larry Fast, best known for the Synergy project.

New technologies, new compositional approaches, then.

We had just added samplers and polyphonic synthesizers to our "arsenal", things like the Roland SH-101, Roland JX3P, E-Mu Drumulator, Ensoniq Mirage, Oberheim Xpander and Synergy Synthesizer. In '86 we signed with Audion Records, the legendary progressive electronic label founded by Fast, who was active there as executive producer and head of the A&R division. More broadly, I can tell you that Bob and I constantly kept up with the cutting edge of music technology and pushed to collaborate with video artists, engineers, animators, scientists, electronic instrument designers, writers, filmmakers and even martial arts masters and spiritual leaders. All of that shaped our approach to music.

Of the soundtracks you've composed, which ones gave you the greatest satisfaction?

I've composed hundreds of pieces for film productions, television programs – from the BBC to CNN – and even for museums, as in the case of the Hong Kong Science Museum, but the greatest thrill came from working with one of my heroes: Carl Sagan.

What intrigued you about Sagan?

We were huge fans of his television series "Cosmos". He was not only an astronomer in planetariums, a university professor and an effective television personality, but also a pioneer in the search for extraterrestrial biology and a staunch advocate for the value of real science. He brought science into mainstream television, encouraging ordinary people to learn more.

What did the commission involve?

We worked with him and his team on a documentary for the "SETI" program (Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence), when the Voyager 2 space probe provided the first close look at Neptune, sending back to Earth images of what is the farthest planet in the Solar System.

Let's zoom out: essential names and albums for understanding new age.

It's hard to narrow it down to a few albums, especially since it spans such a wide variety of styles and genres. A typical new age festival bill might include a folk guitar duo, a percussion ensemble, a Tibetan bell player, a pianist, a belly dancer, and that duo pairing analog synths with flutes and Lyricon, called Emerald Web. I'd start with "Spectrum Suite" by Steven Halpern, then "Icarus" by the Paul Winter Consort, "Inter-Dimensional Music" by Iasos, "Heaven And Hell" by Vangelis, and I'd finish with two Japanese artists: "Snowflakes Are Dancing" by Isao Tomita and "A Bell Ringing In The Empty Sky" by shakuhachi flute player Gorō Yamaguchi.

One of your own titles?

Probably the one that best captures the genre in its electronic form is "Valley Of The Birds" from '81.

What remains today of that movement which championed a spiritual rebirth, a "new age", in the 1970s and 80s?

First of all, it should be understood that new age spirituality spread as a response to the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, and the unrest that gripped the world during the second half of the Seventies. Since then, more and more people have felt free to say they are spiritual but not religious; before, that distinction wasn't widespread. As a result, many new age concepts and practices have been absorbed into mainstream Western culture and its religious communities. Nowadays disciplines such as yoga, meditation, or massage therapy are accepted as therapeutic options thanks to their proven effectiveness.

No nonsense involved?

I'm afraid some of the less respectable new age concepts have grown to the point where they sometimes try to obscure or replace scientific knowledge.

What gives meaning to your existence?

My music springs from the bond I have with Nature and Spirit. In fact, all of Emerald's music was created as part of a shared spiritual journey. Even today I create by "dwelling" in that place of magic, wonder and inspiration. I've received so many emails from fans thanking me because my music pulled them out of a dark period. Listening to Emerald reminded them that the world is also populated by kindred spirits, and they realized they weren't alone. That's where I find meaning: in the fact that the impact we've had on people, even now while we're still here talking about it, well, that impact will continue even after our lives are over.

What kind of electronic music do you foresee in the near future?

Most of today's pop is, technically, electronic music, since it's created using digital sounds and very few acoustic instruments, aside from the voice. Electronic music, by its very nature, is constantly evolving, because it depends on the rapid technological changes that are always underway. The next revolutionary musical style could, if anything, be a backlash against artificial intelligence and technology, launching a strictly acoustic sound with minimal production.

What about the future of the music industry?

Another interesting revolution could be finding a better way to monetize music, so that musicians can be properly paid for their work. One of the most interesting aspects of new age was the possibility of selling cassette tapes directly to fans; that was one of the reasons behind the genre's flourishing, at a time when record labels decided which musicians got to be heard (and those companies, as a rule, weren't open to alternative sounds or styles); if you didn't fit their mold, it was practically impossible to get a record deal, and record stores only sold albums from "official" labels. We, like hip-hop artists, relied on selling tapes to self-finance.

A situation that fostered a certain sense of humanity between seller and buyer.

For a fan, it was very rewarding to hand over money for an album directly to the musician, knowing that money would go straight to the artist to support their music; and for the musician, it was a pleasant sense of validation to know that people liked their music enough to buy it. Now music is streamed rather than purchased, which brings in very little for the musician.

Any proposed solutions?

One possibility could be a new streaming service that adds a donation button on screen, so that every time a song plays, the listener can click and donate a few cents that would go directly to the musician. I think fans would like having that option. If a listener grows attached to a song, they want to support it. A step in the right direction is the online distribution platform Bandcamp, which allows you to stream, sell physical albums, and download music; whenever a track or album is purchased, the artist receives a notification email and is paid in short order.

There are many issues fueling debate about contemporary music, but little is said about financial support for artists as an integral part of the relationship between musician and listener.

All of us, in one way or another, listen to music, and musicians have the sacred right to live with dignity and be respected for the work they do. I worry especially about young up-and-comers, because it seems increasingly unlikely that one can build a career in our field. In my case, I've lived as a professional for over fifty years: it hasn't been easy, but it's been an exciting, fun, dramatic, yet also spiritually rewarding journey.

Is it possible to find advantageous ways of using A.I. without sacrificing the unpredictability of human creativity?

Whether we like it or not, I'm convinced that much of the music of the future will be composed and performed using artificial intelligence. A.I. is already used in a lot of the music we listen to today, such as in pop music production, in concert backing vocals, in film soundtracks, and by now it has spread to every musical genre. Producing this way will keep getting faster and cheaper compared to hiring an actual musician.

Any hope for performers and composers?

Good musicians can still use A.I. creatively, just as they use synthesizers or any other tool. But, that said, there will be fewer and fewer creative musicians. We'll end up with producers making music without creating anything new, as long as music keeps being treated like hamburger meat, ground up, mixed, and flattened out. Live performances will continue to be valued, and I believe appreciation will persist for those artists with a genuine vision, one that comes from our being human beings endowed with a brain, but also with emotions, with lived experience, with spirit. Still, the fact remains that a large part of music intended for quick consumption will be A.I.'s domain.

From a technical standpoint, why can't the digital option yet capture the texture of analog?

It's certainly more convenient to play electronic music live with an iPad than with an Arp 2600, but I've had fun doing both. Early synths had no presets or sound banks, and you had to tune and program them as you played. From a technological standpoint, analog instruments have a more immediate design and offer a sense of "hands-on contact" that gives them a real tactile quality. There's something gratifying about shaping your own analog sounds that way. On the other hand, I appreciate the huge sonic palette available through digital sampling and soft synths; digital definitely gives you far more options.

So…

So the preference for analog might come down to a bit of nostalgia and emotional bias. Many milestone records in the genre were made with analog synths simply because there was no alternative at the time, and so those early analog sounds set the template, became hugely influential, and lodged themselves in our collective listening memory. I like to say that analog is earthier, rawer, with a certain "dirtiness" built into it.

The worst choice of your musical career?

Giving up singing on my albums. And then, perhaps, leaving San Francisco was a hugely impactful decision, because it took us away from our circle of musician friends, our following, and the technologists and scientists we used to hang out with. Still, today I recognize a certain value in the peace of mind that comes with stepping out of the "fast lane."

Are there still record labels capable of guaranteeing artists real promotion?

Let's start with this: I don't know of any mainstream record label interested in promoting my kind of music. That said, there are plenty of small labels run by genuine music lovers, putting out reissues of worthy albums in relatively limited numbers. These labels help keep the music alive, encouraging artists like me to restore, digitize and remaster the master tapes of some of the albums we've talked about in this conversation.

Are you satisfied with the promotion they offer?

The labels I'm talking about can't really do much in the way of promotion, and reissues don't make much money for either the artists or the label. Still, their work helps introduce this music to potential new fans and keeps it objectively alive, before the master tapes crumble to dust.

Give me the names you have in mind.

In the United States, re:discovery records, Anodize and Sebastian Speaks. In the UK, Trading Places and Finders Keepers. In Germany, Long Hair. Stoned To Death in the Czech Republic is also doing good work.

What's the most extraordinary piece of music that comes to mind?

Gustav Holst's suite "The Planets" is perhaps the work that has most shaped the way I think about composition and orchestration.

The most unlikely venue Emerald Web ever played?

I've played for dolphins at the Dolphin Research Center in the Florida Keys, for an elephant at Oakland Zoo in California, and in caves in the Great Smoky Mountains. Also, as you might have gathered, our music was especially aimed at fellow science, technology and science-fiction enthusiasts, so we'd play places like the California Academy of Sciences, the Morrison Planetarium, the Exploratorium Science Museum or the Chabot Astronomical Observatory.

Science fiction audiences must be a particularly warm bunch.

Let me tell you. As you can imagine, in 1982 there was huge interest around TV phenomena like "Star Trek" and the "Star Wars" film saga, and their conventions were an absolute blast. We played one of these once, and I remember Bob and I setting up the gear behind the curtain while various members of the "Star Trek" cast were being interviewed one after another out front. At some point they finish interviewing the last actor and the host makes his announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, here are Emerald Web!"; the curtain goes up, the lights come on, and we start playing, unable to make out anyone in the audience. We finish the show and, finally, the house lights come up. And what do we see? Giving us a standing ovation were dozens of Klingons, Starfleet officers, wizards of every kind, a Horta, trolls, orcs, tribbles, a wookiee and a couple of Darth Vaders.

And then there was the art world.

The legendary painter Robert Rauschenberg was a dear friend of mine, and you wouldn't believe how many trips I took with him to play at his exhibition openings, both in the United States and in Europe. I can't tell you how thrilling it was. I performed in places like the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, at the United Nations, at the Guggenheim in Venice and in Bilbao...

This one's from John Keats: "Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a Soul?"

Unfortunately, at least in part, it's true. My hope is that human beings will evolve their sense of empathy to the point where they can learn from other people's pain without having to bring it upon themselves first. As I've gotten older, I feel I've become wiser, and I can see life from a different perspective: I try to live in the moment, to appreciate the wonderful things I have, to understand other people's pain and to help them when I can.

Even in your most upbeat tracks, your sound gives off an air of gentle melancholy.

Yes, what we created carried more moonlight than sunlight. It has elements of mystery, fantasy, psychedelia, spirituality, dreams, hope, but also darkness. That energy sometimes connects with the soul of a sensitive person, especially when they're going through a hard time.

If you could relive one moment of your life, which would it be?

Lying next to my husband, Bob, under a starry sky, on that beach on Captiva Island...

How did Bob's tragic accident happen?

He drowned in our pool while doing some laps, due to an aortic aneurysm.

What kind of person was he?

He had a great sense of humor. He was a mix of so many things: he was spiritual, optimistic, a scientist, he had a natural talent as a musician but also as a visual artist, and he had a truly open mind. He loved being out in nature and going hiking. We shared a passion for music and spiritual journeys. He had boundless energy and was always exploring new ideas, new technologies and fresh artistic solutions. We had a lot of fun together and shared our quest for Knowledge: he and I actively sought to deepen our understanding of our spiritual nature through learning and practice.

I almost forgot the most obvious question of all: where does your name come from?

Two things inspired "Emerald Web." First of all, we were admirers of King Crimson, and it seemed to us that emerald and crimson went well together. Secondly, in the '70s we experimented with laser effects to use as a light show for our concerts. Back then the helium-neon laser was mainly what was available, but it didn't produce those bright red beams people usually imagine. The ideal would have been an argon laser, though using one could be quite dangerous. Even the helium-neon laser required an operator with a special license authorizing its public use. When we thought about our shows, we fantasized about having an argon laser producing powerful beams of green light.

Did that fantasy become reality?

A few years later we managed to get access to that technology, during a live show in the starry dome of the Morrison Planetarium in San Francisco: I still remember the swirling planets, the movement of the stars across the sky, the smooth passage of comets, the meteors in free fall, and the orbiting of so many other celestial objects; on stage, just inches from our heads, those argon lasers we had so longed for finally flickered to life, weaving that striking emerald-green web.

What's the most extraordinary aspect of being an artist?

Coming from the artist's spirit, music has the ability to touch another person's spirit, bypassing the limits of language but also of culture and thought. My intention is to transport the listener to another place, another emotion, another dimension. Music can do that. It can create a peaceful state of mind, support healing and inspire, or it can be angry, harsh and painful. It's an effective medium for letting the listener experience the great emotions and great themes of life. However hard we try, for instance, we will never be able to put a devastating emotion into words with the same intensity as music can. A quality song can throw your heart wide open and nourish your soul, as well as free you from identifying with what is merely of this planet and push you to reach the next level. That's a superpower!

(March 23, 2025)

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