Overcomplicating the Workflow: Lessons From Building a Hardware Synth Studio

One of the biggest challenges I ran into during my studio redesign was overcomplicating my workflow—largely due to a lack of experience with hardware and an unclear plan for how everything was actually supposed to work together.

What made this tricky is that none of it felt wrong at the time. In fact, it all felt exciting, logical, and inspiring. It was only later—while editing this video series and looking back with some distance—that I could clearly see where things went off the rails.

Where the Idea Started

The idea of building a hardware-based synth studio actually goes back to 2019. I was sick with a bad cold and wiped out for weeks. With very little energy, I spent most of that time watching YouTube videos of synth studios and setups.

Every video showed people surrounded by synths—knobs, faders, lights, patch cables—adjusting this control, tweaking that parameter. For some reason, it really clicked with me. It looked fun.

That’s when I started researching my first hardware synth: the Yamaha MODX7.

And this is where the first lie crept in.

I told myself the MODX7 would be my only hardware synth—while simultaneously binge-watching videos of people in massive studios filled with gear. That was never going to be true. I was already mentally committed to a hardware studio; I just didn’t admit it yet. I’ll blame the fever.

The First Misstep: Choosing the Wrong Kind of Gear

After the MODX7 came the Roland FA, then the AKAI Force, followed by the Maschine+, and later a collection of mono synths.

Looking back, there’s something obvious I didn’t see at the time.

Most of the YouTubers I was watching weren’t surrounded by multiple workstations. They were surrounded by:

• Mono synths
  
• Simple drum machines
  
• A large keyboard providing pads or arpeggios
  

What I did—unintentionally—was the opposite.

The MODX7, Roland FA, AKAI Force, and Maschine+ are all full production systems. Each one is capable of sequencing multiple tracks, running entire arrangements, and acting as the centerpiece of a studio.

I didn’t buy instruments to support a workflow—I bought several workflows at once.

That was my first real structural mistake.

The Second Misstep: Misunderstanding How the Gear Was Being Used

The next misunderstanding was more conceptual.

In my mind, because all this gear existed in the studio, everything had to be running at once. I became fixated on the idea that all 16 tracks of the MODX, all the tracks of the Roland FA, the AKAI Force, and the Maschine+ somehow needed to be synchronized and active together.

That’s not how music—or studios—actually work.

When composing orchestral music, you don’t have the entire orchestra playing all the time. You combine sections, textures, and individual voices. I understood that concept musically—but somehow failed to apply it to hardware.

Instead of thinking:

“I’ll use a pad from the Force and a bass line from the Maschine+”

I was thinking:

“How do I get these two machines to fully integrate and run everything together?”

That mindset alone cost me days of unnecessary complexity.

The Third Misstep: Designing a Workflow Before Learning the Tools

At the same time, I was still new to both the AKAI Force and Maschine+. Their clip-based workflows were unfamiliar, and while I had skimmed manuals and watched a few videos, I hadn’t spent enough hands-on time to truly understand them.

And yet—I was trying to design an elaborate, permanent workflow around them.

Reading manuals and watching tutorials doesn’t replace actual experience. I was trying to solve problems I didn’t fully understand yet, which led me to invent workflows so complex that finishing a track would have been nearly impossible.

The Final Misunderstanding: What Those Videos Really Were

The last realization came much later.

Most of the YouTubers I was watching weren’t producing full tracks. They were jamming.

They were exploring sound, experimenting, and having fun—not building finished arrangements. I don’t jam. That alone should have changed how I interpreted what I was seeing.

I mistook performance and exploration for production workflow.

Would I Change Any of It?

Surprisingly—no.

Yes, I wasted a lot of time.
Yes, I made things far more complicated than they needed to be.

But I also learned an enormous amount.

I eventually figured out simpler ways to connect and use my gear. I gained real-world understanding of hardware workflows. And most importantly, the exploration itself was fun—and useful.

This studio wasn’t built efficiently. It was built experimentally.

And in the end, that process shaped the studio I have now.

Sometimes the long way around is still time well spent.