Dreaming During 2026 NAMM Season

I’m writing this post at about the same time NAMM 2026 is happening, which means the floodgates are open. One new gear video after another starts appearing across synth YouTube channels, each one promising the next big thing.

I’d love to tell you that I’m completely immune to it—that nothing catches my eye and I’m perfectly content. At times I wonder if that’s even possible. Do you ever truly stop looking at new synths and gear, or does something always manage to grab your attention, even just a little?

For example, the MPC XL just launched. I already have an Akai Force and I’ve never owned an MPC. From everything I understand, MPCs have a long and well-earned reputation. The XL is primarily a clip- and pad-based production workstation. Would I be any good on it? Absolutely not. I have no talent for making music that way.

Do I still want one?
Yes. Absolutely.

Then there’s the ASM Leviasynth, a keyboard that looks phenomenal. I have no place to put it. I realistically can’t afford it. And yet—do I want one? Again, yes.

So even though I’d like to say I’m done, my eyes still wander from time to time.

Looking vs. Buying

That got me thinking: when something new catches your attention, what kind of interest is it?

Is it the kind where you know you’re just dreaming—enjoying the idea of it from a distance?
Or is it the kind where you’re already reaching for your car keys and heading to the music store?

If you’re one of the lucky people who are truly content with what they have, that’s fantastic. But I suspect many people aren’t—hence why NAMM videos and “what’s new” coverage are so popular every year.

To be clear, this isn’t about dissatisfaction. I am genuinely happy with my studio as it exists today. I’m not going anywhere to buy new gear that wasn’t on my list from last year, and I’m not chasing anything at the moment.

But dreaming? Dreaming is still fun.

What Is a “Dream Studio,” Really?

This led me to think about what a dream studio actually means—and I think there are at least two very different definitions.

The first is the one I talk about most often:
A realistic dream studio.

For me, that means a studio that’s affordable, thoughtfully built, comfortable, visually pleasing, and filled with gear I can reasonably own and enjoy. A space where I feel at home, relaxed, and genuinely excited to work and create.

That’s the dream I’m actively building right now.

The second definition is probably the more common one:
The fantasy dream studio.

This is the version with massive mixing consoles, endless outboard gear, walls lined with five-figure instruments, professionally designed acoustics, and a look so polished it feels like Sony Music should be calling to buy it.

And honestly? There’s nothing wrong with either version.

You can dream about creating something perfect and attainable for you, just as easily as you can dream about the studio that lives far beyond your current reach.

Both dreams have their place.

So while NAMM rolls on and the gear videos keep coming, maybe it’s okay to look, admire, and imagine—without feeling the need to act on any of it.

Either way, pleasant dreams.