Are We Speaking in “DAW-lish”?

The Blind Spot in the DAW Production Environment

The DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) has, before we knew it, become an indispensable part of our music production. To many creators, it may seem like a magic box that promises vast freedom and holds infinite possibilities. However, I feel there is a “blind spot” in this common perception that is somehow being overlooked.

The DAW environment does not grant us absolute freedom. Rather, if we trace its evolutionary path from the dawn of sequencers to the present day, we can see it as the embodiment of a “process of liberation from unfreedom”—a constant struggle with constraints and a day-by-day attempt to improve upon them.

And in this process of relentless improvement, the DAW has cloaked itself in “subtle constraints” with their own unique tendencies, evolving and transforming into a production space that harbors characteristics that could, in a sense, be called unmusical.

If that is the case, then a communication language separate from music must exist within this DAW production space—something we might call “DAW-lish.”

What I mean here by “DAW-lish” is a metaphor for the DAW’s unique system of editing operations as its “words” and “grammar.” I suspect that this, acting as a kind of “linguistic accent” that unknowingly directs our musical thinking, is unconsciously influencing our music production.

So, can we truly say that we are “mastering” the DAW? Or have we, without realizing it, fallen into a state of “being used” by the DAW?

In this article, I will consider the question of whether it is possible for us, as creators, to notice the unconscious constraints that the DAW as a medium (a “mediation” that influences thought and perception) imposes on us like an irresistible gravity, and then, to turn them to our advantage and “play” with them.

The Grammar and Accent of “DAW-lish”: The Concrete Form of Invisible Constraints

The grammar of the “DAW-lish” that DAWs possess seems to have deeply penetrated the very depths of our musical thinking. For example, the default settings we see when we open a DAW—4/4 time, 120 tempo, and grid divisions. It is as if the DAW is speaking to us, saying, “Compose your music in this rhythm, in this meter.”

The backdrop of a perfectly precise tempo and grid comes with the loss of that organic musical time which is freely stretched and contracted by live performers. As a result of early sequencers forcing strict timing and the subsequent birth of the Quantize function to improve upon that unfreedom, we end up confining our music within a homogenized time unless we consciously introduce “fluctuations.”

Furthermore, the “strong incentive toward repetition” brought about by editing functions like cut & paste can also be said to be a prominent feature of “DAW-lish.”

The copy-pasting of the same phrase (repetitive use), or the heavy use of loop materials, while strengthening the style of certain music genres like minimal, techno, or hip-hop—has it not, I wonder, nipped in the bud “the many other musics that might have been”? I feel this is a very subtle constraint hidden on the flip side of the “freedom” that DAWs provide.

Visual interfaces such as the piano roll, various MIDI editors, waveform editors, and the track window also seem to reinforce a way of thinking that arranges sound “visually” and “mathematically,” sometimes dulling our auditory intuition.

Numerous concrete examples of these “invisible, subtle constraints” could be listed.

In our music production, could it be that the grammar and accent of this “DAW-lish” are unknowingly guiding our music in a specific direction? It might be worth taking a moment to stop and think.

The Illusion of a “Transparent Medium” and the Self-Censorship of the “Inner Voice”

The evolution of the DAW gives us the illusion that it has granted us “freedom.” The DAW is a medium between the creator and the music, and it is accepted as a self-evident presence that brings creative freedom. But perhaps this very illusion that “the DAW is a transparent medium” is the most subtle trap of all.

The more accustomed we become to operating a DAW, the more we may unconsciously self-censor our “inner voice”—those intuitive, freer ideas that do not fit neatly into grids or the temptations of repetition—which is far removed from “DAW-lish.”

This manifests as a psychological trap, a kind of self-deception, where we dismiss our own ideas as if the “DAW-lish” spoken by the DAW is the absolute standard, thinking, for example, “This is too tedious to do in a DAW,” or “This idea isn’t worth dedicating DAW resources to.”

By succumbing to the illusion that the DAW is a “transparent medium,” this suppression of the inner voice often goes unnoticed.

We may have fallen into a rather ironic dilemma: believing that setting up the best production environment with digital technology is the path to rich musical creation, and even making that an end in itself, we end up unconsciously following the “DAW-lish” emitted by the DAW medium, thereby becoming unable to hear our own inner voice.

Are there not musical ideas sleeping in our hearts that we gave up on, prioritizing the “convenience” of the DAW? And was that “inner voice” truly “not worth dedicating resources to”?

Liberation from “DAW-lish,” or Utilizing the “Accent”: A Spirit of “Play” to Turn Constraints into a Game

So, are we “being used” by the DAW, or are we “using” the DAW?

The first step to finding the answer to this question is none other than to become aware of the existence of “DAW-lish.” By deeply understanding its “subtle constraints” and turning them to our advantage, might our creativity not deepen into a richer dimension?

Attempting to “deviate from the grid” or “introduce intentional imperfection” in the DAW, for example, in order to recover the “organic musical time” and “music that might have been” that were likely lost, could become an act of unexpected significance.

Furthermore, consciously grasping the temptation of “the DAW’s editing functions,” including repetition, and sometimes overcoming or deflecting it to pursue contingency and nonlinearity will also lead to opening new horizons of expression.

To escape the trap of self-censoring the “inner voice,” it may be necessary to have the courage to deeply recognize the DAW’s characteristics as a “language” and to consciously “break” its “accent” and “grammar.” I believe this is a spirit of “play” where the creator reclaims the initiative from “being used” to “using” in their dialogue with the DAW, and it can be an act of recapturing the “premonition of a musical idea.”

To consciously nurture a “receptivity” within the perfectly整備された (seibisareta – well-equipped) production environment of the DAW that allows for contingency and unpredictable elements. And, by not falling into the mental trap of thinking of the DAW environment as the “absolute center,” but by sometimes incorporating materials and experiences from outside the environment into the production process, it can lead to gaining new perspectives and inspiration.

Might not the importance of this—the “resonance” that arises from multiple creative perspectives—be the key to creating our own unique “accent”?

By becoming aware of the existence of the invisible medium, the “gravity” of the DAW, and by adjusting or turning it to our advantage, I believe our music can “fly” more freely than ever before.

Toward a New Relationship with the DAW

To be aware of the existence of “DAW-lish” and to deeply understand its characteristics. This will surely be a reliable key to guide us toward rich creativity. By consciously perceiving the DAW not just as a “tool” but as a “language” with its own characteristics, and by engaging in a dialogue with it, I believe the door to deeper, more individual musical expression will be opened.

In the first place, a tool is never just a neutral medium. The ideology of the humans who created it and the mode of thinking prescribed by its operation deeply affect the expression of the user.

This is a concept known as “the ideology of a tool,” and as Heidegger discussed in “The Question Concerning Technology,” it is the perspective that technology is more than just a means; it possesses the power to “bring forth” the world in a particular way. In surveying one’s own music production, understanding this “ideology of the tool” is a crucial element.

By recognizing the “gravity” of the DAW as a medium and then re-examining the true meaning of “mastering” it, might not the possibilities of our music production be further expanded?