Clank Modular, the Italian instrument company founded by luthier-turned-designer Andrea Guasti and longtime collaborator Emanuele Ravalli, has quietly become one of the most forward-thinking voices in contemporary electronic instrument design. What began with tolex-wrapped Eurorack cases and minimalist utility modules has evolved into an ambitious, highly personal design language—rooted in craftsmanship, ergonomics, the West Coast synthesis frameworks of Don Buchla and Serge Tcherepnin, and a commitment to “innovation through simplicity.”
Their latest invention, the Uranograph, marks a pivotal moment in the duo’s work: a standalone, performance-oriented synthesizer that distills years of modular research into a self-contained and vividly expressive machine. More than just another synth, Uranograph reads as a holistic rethinking of what an electronic musical instrument can be—one that foregrounds physicality, gesture, microtonality, and a deeply considered interface that challenges conventional expectations of digital synthesis. Without further delay, let’s dive into the story behind the Uranograph and the team that created it.
The Origins Of Clank
Eldar Tagi: Hi Andrea. Thank you for chatting with us. Let’s start with your origin story—how did you get involved with electronic instruments, and how did Clank Modular come to life?
Andrea Guasti: Hi Eldar, the pleasure is mine. Speaking of origins — before I started building electronic musical instruments, I had already been running a business in the music sector for several years, combining my passion for woodworking with my love for music. In 2010, at a young age, I founded Hope Custom Lab, a company through which I built mainly bass and guitar speaker cabinets, and later also electric guitars and basses. Materials, shapes, ergonomics… many of these aspects of Clank come from that more "analog" period.
Even back then, those productions gave me great satisfaction — perhaps more personal than financial: many of the most well-known underground Italian rock bands were using my cabinets. With Emanuele, the other "Clank guy," I was already collaborating at that time on the creation of some instrument pedals and tube amplifiers: all handmade, one-off pieces or very limited runs.

Apart from a few early approaches with MFOS synths, my first real love for synthesizers came in 2016, when — while searching for new musical and professional directions — I discovered the Buchla Music Easel. I was fascinated by that instrument and West Coast synthesis approach in general, though it was too expensive for me at the time, and like many others, I entered the modular world through a Make Noise 0-Coast.
Needless to say, within a few months, it became an addiction: the more I learned about modular synths, the more I wanted to try and study new ones. Meanwhile, since I was already working with wood every day, I decided to start making some Eurorack cases to sell on Etsy.
The cases were built exactly like I used to make my speaker cabinets: birch plywood, covered with tolex. Within a year, Eurorack case production gradually overtook that of speaker cabinets and guitars. Thus, in 2017, Clank was born.

ET: Was there a formative moment, project, or idea that crystallized the Clank identity?
AG: The first COVID pandemic in 2020 was definitely the turning point for Clank — but to talk about it, I need to start a bit earlier. The previous year, 2019, had been a strange and transitional time. Emanuele and I have always shared a common belief: "Never copy anyone," and my old company, Hope Custom Lab, was struggling in the guitar industry, which, for most, still strictly adheres to dominant 1970s paradigms and old designs.
Meanwhile, luckily, Clank was keeping everything alive thanks to the custom Eurorack cases. Step by step, it started becoming something serious. I began to realize that Eurorack was the field where we could truly express ourselves — we were full of ideas and constantly sketching new hypothetical modules in CAD. There was only one problem: we had absolutely no idea how to make them!
The technical gap was huge. I was, for all intents and purposes, a luthier, and over the years I had developed a strong hands-on knowledge — working with wood, tolex, plexiglass, aluminum, and so on. Emanuele, who had just graduated in architecture, had always cultivated a passion for electronics applied to the guitar world: fuzzes, transistors, tubes… about as far as you can get from the hi-tech modular world made of processors, microscopic components, and serial production.

I decided to dust off an old teenage passion: programming. For several years, I worked by day and studied C++ at night — online and through American university textbooks. So, between one Eurorack case and another, we started to "play" with Arduino and a few breadboards. At the same time, we had to learn how to produce our ideas, and from that process came SUM and XPSU.
SUM was our first module — a small stereo audio mixer. A straightforward project, but one that allowed us to define the visual style of Clank modules: black aluminum panels with minimal laser-engraved graphics. But not only that — we also established an internal design vocabulary on which all future modules would be based: minimum jack spacing, consistent iconography for each function, and so on.
XPSU, which is still our power supply system, helped us understand modern electronics, where "bigger is better" has been replaced by "smaller and more efficient." Transitioning from the large transformers of tube amps to a refined switching power system was a huge challenge!
Then, the need to produce many units forced us to learn about the electronics supply chain — where to print PCBs, how to have them assembled, etc. Today, I would call those two projects preparatory exercises.
Meanwhile, we had already envisioned what would become our first real modular release: Chaos. The idea of a "next-generation random module" had been in our minds for a while, but we still lacked the skills — and, well, the time — to make it real. With the amount of Clank orders coming in, it was practically impossible to dedicate the time needed for such an ambitious project.

In its first iterations, Chaos was called Voltage Recorder, and it was slightly different — but its most distinctive feature, the interface, was already there: no menu diving, no tiny screens to read text from — just an LED bar and a series of simple, intuitive gestures to control a vast number of parameters in the smallest possible space.
Then came COVID, which in Italy kept us locked at home for almost three months, and having such an ambitious idea turned out to be our salvation! I was coding day and night, while Emanuele was designing in CAD and soldering prototypes on the kitchen table.
For quite a while, to catch up on progress, we would meet at the supermarket near the workshop and secretly exchange prototypes while pretending to do our groceries. It was an exciting time — and somehow, I felt that this madness would change our lives forever. And indeed, Chaos is still our most famous product today. As a first real project, for a luthier-turned-programmer and an architect-turned-electronics-engineer, it was definitely ambitious — but we did it, and we came out of COVID with our first working digital module prototype!
Design Philosophy

ET: If you had to distill your design philosophy into a few core principles, what drives the way Clank approaches the conception and development of instruments?
AG: Innovation and simplicity. We've always felt the need to find a balance between these two souls.
Speaking about innovation, no one here wants or pretends to re-invent the wheel, obviously. We're huge fans of Buchla and Serge's work; however, in our "homage" to them, we prefer to use their innovations as a foundation while expressing ourselves with unique design rather than creating clones.
We live in a world of infinite possibilities, and even in musical instruments — with the rise of digital technology — it has become possible to condense an almost unlimited number of functions into tiny objects (just think about what you can do with a few apps on your phone). However, too many possibilities, when seen all at once, often end up clouding and confusing things. That's why, as amateur musicians (with a rather punk and rough musical background), we've always prioritized immediacy and simplicity in designing our instruments.
That might sound strange, especially when we think about Eurorack. For us, a musical instrument can have its own learning curve, but it must always inspire the musician from the very first moment.
It's essential to conceive everything according to well-defined concentric layers. Like a system of nested boxes, a good electronic instrument should be usable within a few minutes. In this initial stage, it should be the instrument itself guiding you through its logic and sound — allowing the musician to be inspired and to generate ideas. Beneath this first surface layer, the deeper levels of complexity can then be explored.
That's why, for example, if we take Chaos or Uranograph, we've dedicated so much time to the interface design. Everything must follow its own natural flow of use. We believe this is also a good way to give character to instruments that would otherwise be somewhat "cold."
Introducing Uranograph
ET: Until recently, Clank was primarily known for Eurorack modules. What motivated the shift toward a standalone instrument like Uranograph? What did you want to achieve with Uranograph that felt beyond the scope of modular?
AG: In reality, it was more of an expressive necessity than an actual decision — the idea had always been there.
From a design perspective, Eurorack is incredibly fascinating: it allows you to focus deeply and for long periods on individual parts of a synthesizer. So, for example, you might spend a whole year studying VCA, developing an exact idea of what you like, how to achieve it, and so on. Once you've mastered all those little building blocks, it becomes almost natural to want to express yourself by combining them all together. I believe modular systems are a very powerful musical tool, but even more than that, they're a great way — for both makers and users — to study synthesis in greater depth.
As time went on, I felt the need to design my own instrument as a whole — with clear boundaries, defined purposes, and a specific way it should be played. Coming from the world of acoustic instruments, what I increasingly missed in the Eurorack environment was physicality and finiteness.

ET: Can you walk us through Uranograph from a design standpoint? What do you consider to be its most definitive features—either technically or experientially?
AG: Rather than focusing on a single specific feature, I believe what makes the Uranograph truly unique is that it was conceived as an instrument that contains within itself an entire ecosystem — something to be performed, with its own physical presence, sound, and way of being played. The Uranograph was essentially designed to be used on its own, which is quite rare in the world of synthesizers — an instrument to be approached much like one would approach a classical guitar.
ET: The name of the instrument is quite enigmatic. What is the story behind it, and how does it relate to the instrument’s sonic or conceptual scope?
AG: Not living in an English-speaking country, we only realized later that the name and its pronunciation were somewhat ambiguous!
In reality, the name comes from Uranographia, a celestial atlas published in 1801 by J.E. Bode, which graphically depicted the sky through drawings and maps. There's actually an extensive series of such atlases from that period — though, to be honest, I know very little about them.
The thing is, one evening I sketched this standalone instrument in a notebook — the layout of the knobs looked like a constellation, and its functioning was essentially based on two keyboard/matrix sections, where you could make physical connections to create different configurations. The name felt quite perfect, and even when Uranograph later evolved in a different direction, the name stayed the same.
The Shape Of Synth To Come

ET: Upon first encounter, the visual design of Uranograph immediately draws attention. Can you talk about the process behind the instrument’s graphic and physical interface, and how those aesthetics serve its function?
AG: Absolutely — ergonomics was one of the most crucial aspects of the Uranograph's design process. Every single component — from the knobs and faders to the touch keys — was positioned with extreme care to create a sense of flow and physical logic. From the beginning, we didn't want the instrument to look like a traditional synthesizer panel. We wanted it to feel more like a performance surface, something that naturally guides your hands where they need to go. The layout of each section was tested and refined many times to ensure that gestures felt comfortable and fluid. All these were tuned to minimize strain and maximize tactile connection.
Since Uranograph is monophonic, the keyboard doesn't need to be played with two hands. So, we designed a two-keyboard mechanism: one hand inputs the notes, and the other hand refines their details through musical articulation, almost like the hands on an acoustic instrument. Their position and alignment were designed so that each hand naturally finds its place, without the performer needing to look down. The goal was to let the performer stay in a continuous dialogue with the instrument, both visually and physically.
In short, the design of Uranograph is the result of an ergonomic study — every shape, distance, and angle has a reason behind it. The aesthetics emerge from this functionality: the idea that beauty is a byproduct of balance, usability, and motion.
ET: The synthesis engine supports multiple methods, including additive synthesis and phase distortion. What kinds of sonic territories do you feel Uranograph is best suited to explore, and was there anything that surprised you about its tonal behavior during development?
AG: Like many of our instruments, the Uranograph's synthesis engine was initially conceived from a technical point of view rather than a specific sonic goal. At the beginning, the concept was to digitally reproduce a dual complex oscillator like Buchla 259 as the tonal core of the Uranograph. However, as development progressed, the section dedicated to harmonic symmetry and order gradually evolved into a phase distortion architecture. This shift completely changed the instrument's identity. From the moment we started testing it, the results felt exciting — the phase distortion added an organic, living quality that precisely embodied what we had in mind. When combined with the subharmonic oscillator and the modulation oscillator, the sound could travel from the purity of a sine wave to incredibly complex, vibrant, and evolving spectra.
One of the things that surprised me most about this design is its malleability and versatility — you can move extremely quickly between very different sound territories, yet it always maintains a strong, distinct character. Considering its loopers and onboard effects, I think the Uranograph naturally lends itself to ambient, textural, and experimental music, but I wouldn't rule out its use in a wide variety of other genres as well.
Expanding Performative Language
ET: Performativity seems central to Uranograph—the capacitive touch interface feels gestural, expressive, and quite immediate. What were the main challenges in making that interface responsive enough for nuanced performance?
AG: Behind the pressure of every single key lies a surprisingly complex series of calculations. Since the keys themselves are physically static, our priority was to find a way to still convey a natural curve of expressivity through pressure.
The raw data coming from the capacitive sensors wasn’t very encouraging at first — very much in line with the bad reputation capacitive keyboards tend to have. It took a lot of time and experimentation to make the pressure response curve feel organic and musical.
Another major challenge was human variation — every player has a different touch. To address this, we added a dedicated sensitivity control, not a simple threshold, but one that simultaneously adjusts multiple parameters to normalize the playing experience across different hands and playing styles.
Beyond the technical side, a huge part of the work was about developing a language of articulation — finding ways to make the instrument as expressive and nuanced as possible. In doing so, we drew a lot of inspiration from the mechanics and phrasing of string instruments, especially the guitar.

ET: The inclusion of microtonal capability suggests a commitment to expanding familiar musical language with the instrument. Why was it important for you to open this aspect up?
AG: The introduction of microtonality wasn't really a driving concept, but rather a natural evolution of the Uranograph's keyboard design. I've always been fascinated by unconventional and programmable keyboards — for years, I've used the Serge TKB, Buchla 216, Buchla 223, Sensel Morph, and so on.
With the Uranograph's keyboard, I wanted to maintain that core idea while trying to make it more user-friendly. Creating a different keyboard layout and saving it directly inside the Uranograph is a very immediate process.
The idea of microtonality came naturally — since we don't have white or black keys, why limit ourselves to the chromatic scale? Also, I'd really love, and truly hope, for the Uranograph to expand into the East, where it could be played alongside traditional instruments.
Navigating The Depths
ET: There’s a lot going on under the hood, yet Uranograph remains approachable. Was it difficult to strike that balance between depth and immediacy—and how would you suggest new users begin to explore it?
AG: Yes, finding that balance between depth and immediacy was one of the biggest design challenges — but also one of the most important goals from the very start. We wanted the Uranograph to be immediately playable and inspiring, even for someone encountering it for the first time, while still offering enough depth to reward long-term exploration.
To achieve that, we designed the interface around the idea of concentric layers of interaction. The first layer is all about intuition and gesture — you touch, you hear a response, you start shaping sound instantly. You don't need to read a manual to have a meaningful experience. Then, as you become more familiar, the deeper layers gradually reveal themselves: modulation routing, harmonic structures, the looper, microtonal layouts, and so on. Each layer is accessible, but never intrusive. We asked ourselves, "Can you still make music with it if you don't know what a single parameter does?" The answer had to be "yes."
For new users, I'd recommend starting from touch and sound, not from the menu or parameters. Just explore — play with pressure, turn knobs, and listen to how the sound changes. Once you feel comfortable, start adding modulation or recording loops. The beauty of Uranograph is that it teaches you through interaction: it reveals its logic as you play, and that process of discovery is part of its musicality.
ET: Finally, what’s next for Clank? Does Uranograph mark the beginning of a new direction, or a one-of-a-kind project within a broader vision?
AG: For now, we're taking a moment to catch our breath — creating the Uranograph was an incredibly intense and rewarding adventure that pushed every part of what Clank can do. Looking ahead, we're considering bringing parts of the Uranograph into Eurorack or even a pedal version, translating some of its concepts into more focused tools.
In the longer term, we'd love to develop a percussive synthesizer to accompany it — something that extends the same expressive, performative spirit into rhythm and impact. So while the Uranograph marks a major milestone for us, it also points toward a new creative direction for sure.















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