When Experimentation Becomes the Biggest Growing Pain

Looking back, the desire to experiment was probably the single biggest growing pain I experienced during my studio redesign. It all started when I decided to build a synth-focused studio and went down what I can only describe as a very deep rabbit hole.

I became absorbed in watching videos where musicians were surrounded by keyboards, sound modules, drum machines, and groove boxes—everything running standalone, no computer in sight. The more of these videos I watched, the more exciting the whole process looked. This wasn’t how I had ever made music before, but it looked tactile, immediate, and fun in a way that was completely new to me.

And that’s where things started to get complicated.

Chasing a Workflow That Wasn’t Mine

For much of this video series, I struggled with my studio setup because I was trying to work in a way that was fundamentally different from my background.

My roots are in orchestral music. I’m used to working on a linear timeline, building pieces step by step. I had never worked with clip-based music production before, yet for some reason I became fixated on it. The idea of dawless, standalone music creation pulled me in—even though I didn’t fully understand it.

At the time, the AKAI Force and Maschine+ were still relatively new to me. I hadn’t spent nearly enough time learning them, yet I started designing my entire studio around the idea of running everything in standalone mode.

The Grand (and Unrealistic) Plan

At one point, I had convinced myself that the AKAI Force would become the central brain of the entire studio. The idea was to connect every synth to it and have it control everything.

Technically speaking, the Force is powerful enough that this isn’t completely impossible—but realistically, it’s not how most people use it. MIDI multi-channel setups were likely designed with one or two external devices in mind, not an entire studio full of gear spread across multiple walls.

That didn’t stop me.

My goal became enormous:

• Control all 16 channels of the Yamaha MODX
  
• Control all 16 channels of the Roland FA
  
• Sync Maschine+
  
• Integrate the DeepMind 12, Korg Minilogue, SP-404MKII, MiniBrute, DrumBrute, Volcas—essentially anything with a MIDI port
  

It was exciting. It was ambitious. And it consumed a huge amount of my time.

Ignoring My Own Instincts

Deep down, I knew better.

My gut was telling me to keep things simple: connect everything to the computer, use Logic Pro as the central controller, and work the way I was most comfortable—on a linear timeline.

But I ignored that instinct.

I lost track of an important detail: most of the videos I was watching weren’t about producing finished tracks. They were about dawless jamming—spontaneous, exploratory sessions rather than fully realized productions. While I’m sure some people complete tracks that way, that level of fluency is far beyond where I was at the time, and still am today.

I didn’t stop to analyze those setups. I didn’t ask whether people were finishing songs, how their routing actually worked, or whether those studios were designed for performance rather than production. I didn’t really understand the dawless concept—I just started buying gear and placing it on shelves. It seemed like to much fun to ignore.

Fun First, Clarity Later

Despite the lack of a clear plan, the process was genuinely fun. And strangely enough, that misstep led to something really positive.

Over time—and through a lot of trial and error—I ended up with a studio that gives me the best of both worlds. In a later post, I’ll talk about how everything is now integrated and how the gear works together in a way that finally makes sense for me.

Even now, in 2026, parts of my MIDI setup are still being refined. The difference is that the heavy lifting is done, and the system now supports how I actually work—not how I thought I should work.

Plan or Explore? I’m Still Not Sure

Here’s the funny part: if someone asked me for advice on setting up a home studio, my instinct would be to say, “Have a plan before you start.”

And that’s probably good advice.

But I also know that I didn’t follow it myself. And while my redesign process wasn’t efficient, the lack of a rigid plan led me to discoveries I never would have made otherwise.

Some days, I strongly believe a clear plan would have saved me years of experimentation. Other days, I recognize that the excitement, confusion, and exploration are what shaped my studio into something that truly feels like mine.

So on this topic, I remain undecided.

What I do know is that this period of experimentation—however chaotic—was a crucial part of developing a creative space that actually works for me.